Page 31 of Scar Tissue

He trails off, clearly not wanting to say whatever he has to. “But?” I push.

“But, they want it to be one of us. Something about others, evenwell-trained, fucking it up somehow. Fletcherwon’tdo it and while I could do it, there’s a likelihood I’ll be recognized by the man himself because I haven’t aged a ton since the car accident. It doesn’t help that I could be recognized due to the disguise I typically wear when infiltrating rings. And Claire definitely can’t go in for obvious reasons.”

What’s left unsaid is louder than if he’d said the words. “You want me to do it.” A statement. Not a question.

“I really don’t. But I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important. If I could think of anyone else I trust to be as capable as I believe you are. Like I said though, if there’s even a hint of?—”

“I’ll do it.”

“W-what?” he stutters.

“Just tell me what I need to do.”

He stares at me in disbelief. “Are you sure? You don’t even know what it entails. There’s a chance you could be recognized, too.”

“It’s a gala, right? I’m assuming that means the general public will be there amongst the shitbags. That means they can’t afford to misstep, especially if he wants to remain in the public’s good graces.” I’m not worried about being recognized. While the years haven't changed Nathan’s appearance much, it’s done wonders for me. I’m no longer a skinny teenage girl who has barely grown into her own skin.

“Yes, but?—”

I put my hand up to stop him. “This is about taking the fucker down who helped cover up Miles’ death. I want in, whatever it is.”

Resignation crosses his face with a mix of what looks like…relief. “Okay. But, Thea, there’s still a chance you could get hurt if something goes wrong. You’ll be acting as a volunteer which means there will be moments that you’ll have to be by yourself with these men. Sure, they’ll have security but they’re likely bought. And we do have a backup plan. We will have men and women right outside, myself included. I just…want you to be sure before you jump into this.”

“I’m sure, Nathan.”

He dips his chin once. “Then I need to contact Dyer so we can make a plan.”

If you wereto ask me why I agreed, the obvious answer would be to avenge Miles’ death. But on a deeper level, it’s because I’m tired of having my choices made for me. I’ve spent so long following the script others have written for me. Sure, I have no experience in this field and I definitely could screw it up as much as actual professionals. Worse, even, I could blow the entire operation and not just screw up my life but everybody else’s that are involved. Countless employees of the FBI and kids that we have the potential to save. However, after we got off the phone with Dyer earlier, they didn’t seem to have the same impression of myself as I do laying here now, staring up at my bedroom ceiling.What the hell did Nathan tell them to make them so confident in me?

I’m not stupid, though. I’m an easy target to wash their hands clean of, if they need to. Not memorable. Not that I believe Nathan would ever allow that to happen. Besides, this is for a good cause. At least that’s what I’m telling myself to avoid backing out. I know it’s dangerous, and if it’s one of the last things I ever do, at least I can go out knowing I attempted to make a difference. It’s more than I’ve ever done for myself. I can live with that. Gone is the girl who played things safe and lived inside her picket fence bubble. Starting tomorrow, I’m reinventing myself.

Chapter

Twenty

NATHAN

Ican still feel the ghost of her lips across my own as I sit down in one of the chairs, remaining outside once Thea retired for the night. Releasing a heavy sigh, I lay my head in my hands. I don’t like anything about our current situation. I hate that I can’t have her fully. I hate that she agreed to help with the gala. I hate that I asked her to. I hate that it’s taken me so many years to get my head out of my ass and face our past. If I had done things differently…where would we be now? Maybe it would’ve changed the course of our future and the trauma we’ve both been through. Maybe we would’ve healed faster from losing Miles. Fuck. My head is spinning and I wasn’t even the one drinking tonight.

“You look like someone pissed in your cereal,” a gruff voice sounds from around the side of my house.

I release a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well I feel like I ate it, too.”

Fletcher takes a seat next to me, pulling a flask from his pocket and handing it to me.

This is his way of having a heart to heart without feeling emasculated by it. I’ve only ever seen him soften with one person andshe’s the same person who warms his bed at night. Taking it, I open the top and take a swig of the whiskey, which burns a pleasant path down my throat before settling with a warmth inside of my stomach. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Your girl called Dylan, asked her to come over.”

My girl.How I wish that was true. “She isn’t my girl. But naturally, you couldn’t let her go anywhere by herself, so here you are.”

One side of his mouth tilts up. “Here I am. And she’s definitely your girl, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Being possessive may be your MO, and Dylan might get off on it, but some of us actually thrive on being normal.” I take another drink as I roll my eyes, and he chuckles.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. But I’m actually not here to talk about them…” Raising my eyebrow I wait for him to continue. “This job, does it have anything to do with that girl sitting in the living room?”

I nod. “Her name is Claire. Had you come with me when we first got the call, you would’ve met her.”