“See? It’s fate. Or destiny. Whatever you want to call it. We’re meant to be together. Wow, I’m starting to sound like a total pussy!”
She laughed, but the problem was, she was beginning to feel the same way. Cole just . . . fit. There wasn’t anything she didn’t like about him, even when he was annoying the shit out of her.
It was fun to bicker and snipe with him. He gave as good as he got but he never carried a grudge. Never took it too seriously. And he didn’t let his ego get in the way of things. She’d saved his ass plenty of times and he never resented her for it.
Her KGI team was everything her first team wasn’t. Loyal. They respected her. They stood by her even when it meant putting their jobs on the line.
The sudden thought occurred to her that she was a flaming hypocrite. It was like being blindsided by a right hook. Her thoughts must have been reflected on her face, because Cole’s brow wrinkled in concern and he sat forward.
“What’s up, P.J.? You okay?”
She let out a disgusted sigh and rubbed her forehead in agitation. “I was sitting here comparing S.W.A.T. with KGI and I was being all smug and self-righteous thinking that my team here is everything my old team wasn’t. I’ve been so pissed at them for so long, but it occurred to me that I’m a huge fucking hypocrite.”
He reared back in surprise. “Why the hell would you think something like that?”
“I turned my lover in for being dirty. I was so self-righteous and so ‘must do the right thing’ and I was so black-and-white back then. There were no reasons, no explanations. No excuses. You were either right or wrong. No in between. And yet here I am, having murdered three men in cold blood and casually plotting the death of a fourth. My hands are so stained with blood that I’ll never wash them clean. At least Derek wasn’t hurting anyone. He didn’t kill anyone. He stole money from losers and drug dealers.”
Cole scowled, his face darkening as he stared back at her. “You aren’t comparing yourself to that asshole.”
She made a sound of impatience. “Look at it objectively, Cole. I turn him in for being on the take. I get hung out to dry and I’m bitter because everyone turned on me. Shit happens here, I go off on my own and kill three men. Who’s the bigger criminal? You guys have every reason to wash your hands of me.”
“Now you’re just pissing me off. It’s not like you to be all martyr-like. Shut the fuck up and give yourself a break. You can’t compare your situation to the dumb fuck you used to sleep with.”
She blinked for a minute and then burst out laughing. Oh God. This was what she loved so much about Cole. He didn’t let her get away with stupid shit and he always gave it to her straight.
Cole still looked disgruntled. “Those bastards needed killing. Even if they hadn’t done what they did to you. What they’ve done to countless women and children is enough to take them out. You did the world a favor, and I’m not going to let you get down on yourself because you don’t regret killing them. Does it make it better if you lament and feel guilty over killing them? If you’re looking to me for judgment, you’re shit out of luck. I’m not much of a black-and-white kind of guy. I spend too much time in those gray areas.”
He got up and busied himself flipping the steaks. The sizzle was loud and the wind carried the scent of charcoal and cooking meat to her nostrils. She sniffed appreciatively and her stomach rumbled in response.
When he finished, he walked past her. “I’m going to turn the outside light on and get some bug spray so the mosquitoes don’t carry you off. I’ll be right back.”
The door opened and closed and she was left alone counting the fireflies and reflecting on the conversation they were having.
Was she nothing more than a hypocritical, self-righteous prig? She’d always felt holier than thou about the fact that Derek was involved in shady dealings while on the job. It had affronted her and pricked her sense of honor. She’d been utterly disappointed that he hadn’t upheld her lofty ideals. In her mind he’d failed not only himself and his team, but he’d failed her, and maybe that was why she’d never been able to forgive him.
But no matter what Cole said, she was no better than Derek. Her reasons may have been different for crossing that line, but the end result was the same. She’d crossed a line, and she could never go back.
Worse, she had no desire to go back. She felt no guilt, only savage satisfaction that she’d taken out three of the four men that she’d vowed revenge on.
It wasn’t pretty. It certainly wasn’t righteous. But she wasn’t ducking the issue. She knew what she was. A cold-blooded killer.
What was Derek’s sin when compared to hers?
She felt some of that old animosity ease and was able to let go of some of the resentment she’d harbored for so long. She’d sold Derek out, whether it was the right thing to do or not. For so long, she’d felt betrayed by him, but in essence it could be said that she was the one who betrayed him.
Hell of a time to have an epiphany and discover shit about yourself.
The light flashed on and then the door opened. Cole came back out carrying a glass of tea in each hand and a can of bug spray under his arm. He set one of the glasses in front of her and then leaned down to spray the insect repellent over her legs. She reached to cover her tea so he could spray her arms. When he was finished, he returned to his seat.
He leaned back in his chair and eyed her curiously. “So tell me what P.J. stands for.”
She blinked and then stared at him, perplexed for a moment by the shift in conversation. She hadn’t considered that the rest of the team didn’t know what the initials stood for. Steele certainly knew because he’d barged through her background, leaving no stone unturned before he hired her on. She was sure Sam, Garrett and Donovan had done the same.
No one called her by her real name. Never had. A fact she was grateful for. She’d always wondered what she’d done to piss her mother off that she’d stick P.J. with such a hokey name.
“Come on, P.J. Give. I’ve never slept with a woman whose name I didn’t know. Until you. It’s kind of making me feel like a man whore.”
She burst out laughing. “I ought to not tell you now so you can wallow in your man-whore-ness a little longer.”
“You mock my pain. I have standards, you know.”
She snickered again and then pinned him with a glare. “I’ll only tell you if you swear to, first, never tell another soul, and second, never ever call me by my full name in public.”
He held up his hand. “I swear.”
“Penelope Jane,” she mumbled.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Penelope Jane!” she said louder.
His nose wrinkled up. “Seriously?”
She sighed. “Yeah, seriously. Now maybe you see why I just go by my initials.”
“You don’t look like a Penelope Jane.”