Let Me In. Donna Kauffman
say I didn’t understand it, the need for it, or even approve of the need for it. I said I don’t miss it. Here in the world I’m in now, no one cares what I’m thinking about, or what my next move might be. I’m not on anyone’s radar. Ever. Claiming that kind of absolute independence and freedom is a heady thing, Derek. Giving up even a shred of it grates. Deeply.”
“Understandably.”
“Then you’ll forgive me if I don’t allow you insight into my every thought.”
“I’m not being nosy. I need to know my partner.” His lips quirked again when she scowled. “Recalcitrant though she may be.” He turned serious again. “It’s been three years. I need to know you, what you’re thinking, the conclusions you are drawing. It could be the difference between success or failure.” He didn’t have to add that that usually equaled life or death. With her, he didn’t have to.
“You’ll have to settle for knowing what I see fit to tell you. As I said before, I don’t work for you any longer. You don’t own me, or have rights to anything I don’t care to give you access to.”
“We’re partners, not team leader and agent. You’re stuck with me now, like it or not.” He lifted a hand, briefly, off the bed. “No need to clarify which side of that you stand on.”
“Derek—”
“I may not have any rights where you’re concerned, but we’re in this regardless of whether or not it’s right, fair, or anything else. We both know that life is often none of those things. I can continue to apologize for dragging you into this, or we can accept that this is the lot we’ve been handed and get to work on solving it.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“Okay. Then when I ask you a question, I need you to answer me. I’ll do the same for you. Partners, Tate. You know better than anyone what it takes to make a successful partnership. You and CJ were the best team I ever had.”
Now it was her turn to quirk her lips, only there was absolutely no humor in her eyes. “And yet, look where it’s gotten me. The irony, eh?” She stood and shoved her chair back.
“We just started,” he said. “We still have an enormous amount to cover and time is something we can’t waste any more of than we already have.”
“We?” she asked, arching a brow.
“Tate.”
“You need to rest. And I need to…regroup.”
“Tate—”
She picked up the food tray from the dresser. “Neither of us is going anywhere right this second, Derek. I’ll be back later.” She paused in the doorway. “As your partner, I’d advise you to get as much rehabilitative rest as possible. We have no idea what the next few days will bring, but I think it’s a safe bet to assume that the stronger you are, the better chance we’ll have of getting through them.” She didn’t wait for his reply.
But when she turned to leave, she caught the tray on the edge of the doorframe. She corrected the movement immediately, before anything could topple to the floor, but the sudden action revealed two things to Derek: her reflexes were still sharp as ever. But her body was not. It would have taken someone with his dedication to detail to notice, but there’d been a slight, yet definite hitch in her step when she’d readjusted her trajectory and that of the tray. She’d healed from her injuries in a far more superior way than even he’d have ever projected, even knowing her for the bulldog she was.
But while she might give the impression of being one hundred percent, or damn near it, she wasn’t. He knew she’d undergone multiple surgeries to repair the damage done to her limbs, all four of them. You wouldn’t know it to look at her today that she’d ever been as broken as she was. Until that brief, but telling moment.
She’d been out in the rain, hiking the hills. Then she’d come in here and sat in that chair for the past half hour. And now she was paying the price. A price she’d never want him to see. Pride was a luxury people in his line of work often couldn’t afford. She, on the other hand, had every right to it now.
Which was why he didn’t ask, didn’t probe. Now, anyway. He needed to know her limits, both mental and physical. But, for the moment, he’d content himself with whatever knowledge he could gain from keen observation, and past knowledge of his partner.
It was frustrating as hell, but then he doubted he had the corner on that emotion at the moment.
Surprisingly, he must have dozed off shortly after her exit, because the next thing he was aware of was opening his eyes, only to find it had grown fully dark outside. The storm continued to rage on. In fact, as thunder rattled the walls and roof once again, he realized that that was what had awoken him. At least he hadn’t tried to dive off the bed this time.
His eyes adjusted relatively quickly to the darkness which was a relief on more than one level. He was still fatigued, but not groggy. The headache lingered, but was milder now. It felt like the last vestiges of the drugs had finally left his system.
He looked around the room, but even in the darkness, he could see he was alone. Nature was calling somewhat insistently now, and he knew he was going to have to tackle that little adventure shortly, but for the moment he lay still and listened. Once he sorted out the sounds being made by the rain pounding on the roof and slashing at the windows, he could focus on the sounds of the house itself. There were none. No music, no television, no voices. No sounds of domesticity coming from the kitchen.
The latter thought made him smile, imagining Tate’s reaction to that notion. Which led to wondering where she was, and what she was doing. She’d closed his door at some point, but there was a yellow glow seeping through the cracks, so lights were on somewhere. His thoughts gave pause at the idea of her watching him while he slept. On the one hand, he didn’t like the vulnerability implied in the very act, and yet there was something undeniable…comforting, about the idea that anyone absent of nefarious plans would want to watch over him.
He wasn’t sure how late it was. She could be asleep on the couch. The idea of flipping the favor and watching over her in return was oddly far more arousing than it was soothing. Which brought him right back around to the necessary trip he had to make. As he mentally prepared himself to manage the pain he was about to endure in order to get himself upright, his thoughts strayed back to Tate. He should logically be concerning himself with locating her immediately, and making certain all was still well and secure. But his instincts weren’t clamoring. And despite the manner in which he himself had been recently subdued, he doubted the same would happen within the walls of this cabin without rousing him from his sleep.
Which left him to decide between being smart and pinpointing the location of his partner, and updating himself on the time and whatever else might have happened while he slept—but that meant risking her immediate presence, and worse, her help, with his pending adventure—or he could take care of that chore first, then track her down. First, he decided to get himself upright, or as upright as he could, so no matter what happened beyond that, she couldn’t negate his trip altogether and suggest any other solution.
His shoulder screamed in protest as he worked at shifting his weight toward his good side—or better side, anyway—but he’d dealt with his shoulder dislocating before and knew how to manage that pain. It was the other combined radiant points of torture that had him catching his breath, then grunting as he levered himself carefully to a sitting position.
His ribs were seriously not happy with this venture, but careful probing before had already told him they weren’t broken. It wasn’t the first time they’d been banged up, so he knew the difference, but this time the external damage had been to the front, side, and back of his torso, all of which were protesting. Loudly. He knew from his attempts at eating the soup that his left hand was a mess of purple and blue, but Tate had realigned and taped three of his fingers before, leaving him his forefinger and thumb for navigation when needed. At the moment, he had that hand tucked into the sling supporting his shoulder, so, though essentially out of