The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (top 5 books to read .TXT) 📗

fly it!” His voice was petulant with a bit of whining thrown in, and I realized I would need to step in before things got anywhere remotely near heated. Not that I was worried about Violet—she was watching Thomas with a bemused expression. No, Thomas was more prone to missing social cues, so better to help convince him than let him feel like he was being left out.

“Actually, that might be a good idea,” I interjected. Thomas gave me an appalled look, his eyes wide. “Thomas, we’re going to need your tactical mind focused on the bigger picture,” I added before his ego could get too crushed. “Besides, you can’t pilot and hack their computers—if they have any—at once. Not to mention, you’re one of our best strategists. We need you overseeing the entire operation with Ms. Dale.”

Thomas considered my words and then nodded, mollified. “You’re right, and I’m sure Violet is feeling useless, so that will be helpful for her. I’ll go get one ready for her to practice on.”

He stood up and walked out, and I looked over at Violet. She blinked, as if clearing her head from a strong left hook. “He’s not wrong,” she said dryly. “I would like to not feel useless.”

I smiled at her, shaking my head. “You’re not useless, baby. Besides, even if you weren’t injured, having a remote operative without the risk is really a good idea. I think I might go a bit crazy with just Thomas and Ms. Dale in my ears.”

She chuckled, her gray eyes sparkling. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she chided. “And this time… I am totally okay with that.”

“Well, maybe a little bit,” I admitted. “But honestly, it is a good idea for many reasons, the main one being that I trust you and your judgment. I like Thomas, but he’s often a little too clinical for my comfort. Ms. Dale is mission-oriented, which is a bonus, but sometimes she overlooks the emotional aspect of things in the name of the mission. I trust you to be their counterpoint.”

She gave me a doubtful look. “I think you might be building me up a bit there, but since you’re not arguing with me, I’m going to take it.”

“Look, I think this is a perfect solution—you won’t be in the field, but you also won’t be sitting around worrying about me. You’ll be involved. I want you to be involved.”

As I spoke, her doubtful look melted. “Now, that was better, but seriously, you don’t have to keep convincing me you’re okay with it. I believe you.”

I blew out a breath. “Sorry, am I going overboard? I just… I can’t fully imagine what you’re going through.”

She frowned and stirred her spoon through her soup a few times. Then she set it down on the table with a click and pushed the bowl away. “I’m worried half the time, frustrated the other half, and so much of my body is still sore all the time. If I’m being honest, our walk took more out of me than I care to admit, and I just… I don’t like feeling helpless.” She met my gaze with a small smile. “I guess what I’m saying is, thanks for not fighting me on this. Even when you don’t fully understand what I’m going through, you’re still able to give me exactly what I need.”

I reached out and took her left hand, rubbing the tips of her fingers with my own, then kissing them. We stared at each other, and I felt a surge of love for her that seemed to flood out of my chest and into every part of me, making me feel stronger, calmer, more whole. Even after everything that had happened, we were still standing, still together, and—best of all—still partners. It was reassuring that even when we were at our weakest, we each had the other to back us up.

“I love you,” I told her, a surge of male pride running through me as her eyes lit up and her lips curled into a full-bodied smile.

“I love you, too,” she said back, running her thumb over my own. I stared at her, a smile on my own lips, and for a moment, the world and all our problems dropped away, leaving only us, together, in that moment, rooted to each other like two trees in a forest.

Sighing at the knowledge there wasn’t enough time to just be with each other, I released Violet’s hand and stood up, moving to a small table by the couch that was stacked with papers and notes. I pushed through the various files, picking up the one with the photos of the worker camp the scouts had come back with. I held them up as I walked back, and dropped into my seat.

“Here,” I said, placing the file in front of her. “These are the pictures we got from the scouts. They did the best they could under the circumstances, but it doesn’t show much other than the structures and some of the configuration.”

She nodded, flipping open the folder and looking at the grainy, faraway pictures. I had already studied them this morning. The camp was set in a large meadow, bordered on one side by forest, leading to another empty meadow on the other. A mountain range loomed in the background, near enough to block out almost all the sky. To all appearances, it was out in the middle of nowhere; the rutted tracks that led to it seemed to have been made specifically for coming to this camp, since there was still brush and weeds growing in between the tire tracks. The structure itself was a tall barbed-wire fence with rows and rows of tents inside surrounding four rectangular structures that resembled the massive trailers I’d often seen used to haul food. They had windows, but the scouts hadn’t been able to risk getting closer, and at the distance from which the photos were taken, they only appeared as