Page 50 of Steel Vengeance

“The woman told me your unit used this place as a safe house when you were operating across the border.” She saw his face shut down, his eyes hardening, lips pressed into a tight line. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“You get that look whenever you don’t want to talk,” she said. “It’s like you shut off everything.”

Frown lines appeared on his forehead. “You reading me again?”

She smiled a little. “It’s not that hard.”

There was a pause.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk,” he finally growled. “I just can’t.”

“Too painful?” she asked gently.

“Too classified,” he corrected, his frosty eyes burning into her.

Ignoring his warning, she said, “She mentioned patching you up more than once.”

“She shouldn’t be telling you that,” he muttered. “I’ll talk to her.”

“I asked,” Sloane said quickly, not wanting to get the woman in trouble. “What do you expect? You never tell me anything.”

He rubbed his temples, as if trying to smooth out the stress lines. “Okay. You deserve to know a little.”

Her voice shook. “Especially since you’re the only person I can trust.”

It was true. Without him, she was as good as dead. Without his help, she’d never make it home.

Another, longer pause.

“We used this place as a safe house,” he said, finally. “A place to lay low if we were injured or needed time to recover. It was safer here in Pakistan than over the border.”

“Didn’t that put her at risk?” She thought of the woman, probably playing host to a bunch of huge, intimidating operators.

“It was a managed risk. Besides, we made sure to take care of her.” He grinned, a flash of mischief.

Her heart stumbled over itself as his eyes crinkled, playful for once. Where had this side of him been hiding?

As she caught her breath, he added, “Mrs. B’s a big fan of anything American. Her daughter lives in New York.”

“I know, she told me.” She studied him. “She also told me your team often used to stay here after missions across the border.”

He hesitated, not meeting her gaze.

“You’re not a marine, are you? It’s more than that.” Her gaze dropped to his tattoo, the way he’d dashed across the road when the biker had appeared out of nowhere, his decisive actions, his ability to breach her room without her hearing him. “Navy SEAL?”

He sniffed. “You’re good.”

“I won’t tell,” she whispered, a shiver coursing through her. Navy SEAL operators were different. She’d read about them. They went into enemy territory, took on impossible missions, and hunted down terrorists. They blew stuff up, and yeah, they killed people with their bare hands.

He was one of them.

She should have seen it earlier. The controlled strength, the way he read situations instantly, how he’d charged the gunman on the motorcycle like he had zero fear. She hadn’t even noticed the guy coming down the road.

She’d never known anyone like Stitch. Matthew was the closest thing to a government agent she’d known, and he pushed paper behind a desk.

Stitch raked a hand through his hair. “Anyway, all that was a long time ago. I’ve been out for over a year.”

She didn’t miss the flash of despair on his face. “Why’d you leave?”