around that time?” Sitting forward, Ian rocked the table with his elbows. “Didn’t your parents divorce?”
Günter snorted. “I wasn’t ten, if you remember. It’s not like the demise of their relationship damaged my emotional growth.”
“But—”
A floorboard creaked outside the kitchen door.
Günter and Ian both tensed. Training had them unsnapping holsters without a second thought. Günter drew his weapon and aimed it underneath the table while Ian silently skirted the perimeter of the kitchen and crouched low. Signaling his intent he kicked the door open and rolled out of the way.
Jenny screamed and Ian swore as he bounded to a standing position.
“Listening at doors is liable to get you killed ’round here.” Günter tried to sound bored, but didn’t know if he’d pulled it off with all the adrenaline zipping through his system. He holstered his weapon and motioned her in the door. “Come in. Sit down.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t there long.” Jenny clutched the lapels of her pink terry robe and entered haltingly, eyes darting from Günter to Ian. “It’s just I wanted something to drink and I wasn’t sure whether to come in.”
Ian sat down heavily. “Well, you’re in. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Tea?” Günter asked, needing something to do. Something else to think about.
“Sure.” Jenny played with the frayed edge of the plastic tablecloth. “Thanks.”
He snagged the kettle.
“So, what did you hear?” Ian asked.
With his back to the room, Günter turned on the tap and tried not to appear too interested in the conversation behind him. His humiliating display of emotion on the way to the safe house had been one of the many incidents gnawing at his already battered sense of self-respect. The possibility Jenny might reveal any disgust or fear of him because of what she’d witnessed made his midsection go funny until he had to remember to breathe normally. Turning in the tight space, he placed the kettle on the hob and chanced a peek at her.
Jenny glanced at him, meeting his gaze. Eyes soft with the last vestiges of sleep, she shook her head. Reluctant.
“I don’t—” she began.
“It’s all right.” Günter interrupted, scrambling to regain whatever lost ground he could. “You can answer.”
For several moments she worried her lips between her teeth, marring the soft flesh, as she stared almost unseeingly at the table. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she blew out a breath.
“From what I’ve pieced together today and tonight, Günter had a wife—Alona.” She darted a glance at him.
He kept his expression dispassionate, but nodded.
“Alona died in Dublin during a raid of some sort. You didn’t know she was a…” Jenny eyed Ian’s swollen face.
Shame nearly dropped him. Did she really think he’d do something like that to her?
“I’m not going to hit anyone,” Günter said quietly, wishing he could dissolve into nothingness.
“No.” Jenny stood and grabbed his hands.
A warm contentment stole through his midsection.
“That’s not it,” she continued, with a squeeze. “I just didn’t want to hurt you again.”
Her simple statement, so tender and honest, broke and remade him with a speed that took his breath away. At a loss for words, not trusting his voice to contain his emotion, he could only say, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She continued her narration without withdrawing the comfort of her hand. “The last thing I heard was you saying you thought you’d killed her and your child.”
“She was pregnant,” Günter clarified. Throat constricting with emotion, he looked away.
Ian stood to remove the whistling kettle.
“Do you know that for certain?” he asked, lifting the lid from a brown betty.
Günter sat, pulling Jenny with him to the table. Reluctant to relinquish the reassuring warmth, he kept hold of her hand. He frowned, trying to remember the moment Alona’d told him.
He’d come home early and walked in on
Günter snorted. “I wasn’t ten, if you remember. It’s not like the demise of their relationship damaged my emotional growth.”
“But—”
A floorboard creaked outside the kitchen door.
Günter and Ian both tensed. Training had them unsnapping holsters without a second thought. Günter drew his weapon and aimed it underneath the table while Ian silently skirted the perimeter of the kitchen and crouched low. Signaling his intent he kicked the door open and rolled out of the way.
Jenny screamed and Ian swore as he bounded to a standing position.
“Listening at doors is liable to get you killed ’round here.” Günter tried to sound bored, but didn’t know if he’d pulled it off with all the adrenaline zipping through his system. He holstered his weapon and motioned her in the door. “Come in. Sit down.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t there long.” Jenny clutched the lapels of her pink terry robe and entered haltingly, eyes darting from Günter to Ian. “It’s just I wanted something to drink and I wasn’t sure whether to come in.”
Ian sat down heavily. “Well, you’re in. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Tea?” Günter asked, needing something to do. Something else to think about.
“Sure.” Jenny played with the frayed edge of the plastic tablecloth. “Thanks.”
He snagged the kettle.
“So, what did you hear?” Ian asked.
With his back to the room, Günter turned on the tap and tried not to appear too interested in the conversation behind him. His humiliating display of emotion on the way to the safe house had been one of the many incidents gnawing at his already battered sense of self-respect. The possibility Jenny might reveal any disgust or fear of him because of what she’d witnessed made his midsection go funny until he had to remember to breathe normally. Turning in the tight space, he placed the kettle on the hob and chanced a peek at her.
Jenny glanced at him, meeting his gaze. Eyes soft with the last vestiges of sleep, she shook her head. Reluctant.
“I don’t—” she began.
“It’s all right.” Günter interrupted, scrambling to regain whatever lost ground he could. “You can answer.”
For several moments she worried her lips between her teeth, marring the soft flesh, as she stared almost unseeingly at the table. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she blew out a breath.
“From what I’ve pieced together today and tonight, Günter had a wife—Alona.” She darted a glance at him.
He kept his expression dispassionate, but nodded.
“Alona died in Dublin during a raid of some sort. You didn’t know she was a…” Jenny eyed Ian’s swollen face.
Shame nearly dropped him. Did she really think he’d do something like that to her?
“I’m not going to hit anyone,” Günter said quietly, wishing he could dissolve into nothingness.
“No.” Jenny stood and grabbed his hands.
A warm contentment stole through his midsection.
“That’s not it,” she continued, with a squeeze. “I just didn’t want to hurt you again.”
Her simple statement, so tender and honest, broke and remade him with a speed that took his breath away. At a loss for words, not trusting his voice to contain his emotion, he could only say, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She continued her narration without withdrawing the comfort of her hand. “The last thing I heard was you saying you thought you’d killed her and your child.”
“She was pregnant,” Günter clarified. Throat constricting with emotion, he looked away.
Ian stood to remove the whistling kettle.
“Do you know that for certain?” he asked, lifting the lid from a brown betty.
Günter sat, pulling Jenny with him to the table. Reluctant to relinquish the reassuring warmth, he kept hold of her hand. He frowned, trying to remember the moment Alona’d told him.
He’d come home early and walked in on
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