But not last night.

  Last night he stretched behind me, holding me close and offering me his strong arm as a pillow. He would stroke my hip and, every once in a while, kiss the back of my head. But otherwise, we got lost in the movie, and it couldn’t have been any more perfect. I needed some semblance of normalcy, and I needed his comfort by way of his strong arms around me.

  After Thor, we put on Dozer’s favorite, Independence Day. The last thing I remember was Will Smith walking out of his house and looking up into the sky to see the alien spacecraft, and then I was sound asleep.

  I have a vague recollection of Dozer lifting me from the couch and carrying me into the bedroom. I was groggy as he helped me out of my clothes and let me slip under the covers. I think my last dim memory of the evening was of him sliding in behind me and pulling me close as I fell back asleep.

  I didn’t dream.

  No nightmares of my worst fears coming to fruition. I slept soundly and deeply until Dozer woke me early with his fingers between my legs and his mouth on my neck. He made love to me ever so slowly, causing me to soar high with him, and then we fell down to earth again, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  And then… he was gone.

  To Miami.

  To get kidnapped. Possibly tortured. Maybe killed.

  I curse in frustration as I continue pacing, periodically chewing on one of my nails, a habit I fall into when stressed.

  Dozer promised me frequent updates. He said he would call as often as he’d be able to. Both Kynan and Griff also promised they would keep me in the loop and that I would be aware of every situation as it unfolded.

  It wasn’t good enough for me when they offered those assurances.

  An hour after they’ve gone, it’s still not good enough.

  In fact, I’m feeling distinctly left out, which is silly, of course. I can’t help them. I would only be in the way if I was in Miami. Dozer said I would be a distraction, but I took that as a compliment of sorts, and I don’t want to be a hindrance.

  Still… I can’t let go of the fact that I’m in the wrong place right now.

  I can’t stop thinking that I should be more proactive.

  Without any real thought, I leave the apartment and trot down the floating staircase to the second floor. A few of the Jameson agents look at me curiously from their desks as I make my way to the elevator that will take me down to the R&D lab where I know Bebe is working.

  I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the elevator. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish—just running on instinct here.

  At the sub-basement level, I exit the elevator and walk to the glass door where I can see Bebe at her desk. I knock sharply, and she turns to glance at me over her shoulder. A second later, the door unlocks and I’m walking in.

  “You look like hell,” Bebe says as she gives me a once-over.

  “I feel like hell,” I admit. “My nerves are a mess, my stomach feels like it’s going to turn inside out, and it would not take much for me to start crying right now.”

  Bebe gasps dramatically. “Please don’t cry. I am ill-equipped to handle tears.”

  I smile grimly. “I can’t stay here.”

  She settles into her chair and points at the empty one where Dozer normally sits. I take it and bounce my knee from sheer nervousness. “I have to go to Miami. No, not have to. I’m going to Miami.”

  Bebe shakes her head. “You most certainly are not.”

  “You could come with me.” I look at her expectantly. I know she doesn’t want to be here any more than I do, but Kynan insisted she stay. He felt that her close bond with Dozer would be a hindrance, that her head would be cooler and her heart more detached if she assisted the mission remotely. “Dozer needs us.”

  Something flickers in her eyes, even though her jaw remains stubbornly set. “Dozer would kill me if I took you to Miami. Kynan would fire me.”

  “I’ll go with or without you,” I threaten.

  “I’ll tie you to that chair,” she counters.

  “I bet I could kick your ass,” I say because I’ve got her by a few inches. “You’re scrawny.”

  I get nothing but an eye roll. “I’m not afraid of you. But again, Dozer would kill me.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “Dozer would not kill you because I wouldn’t let him kill you. And Kynan is not about to fire his most brilliant, valued, and cherished employee. You’re the heartbeat of this company, and Kynan would be foolish if he—”

  “Stop trying to flatter me,” Bebe grouses. “Not saying I don’t like it, but it’s really not needed.”

  “So, you’ll help me?” I ask hopefully.

  “Putting everything aside, all the valid reasons you want to go,” Bebe says gently, “I don’t think it would be good for you to be there. I think the stress on you would be too much. You’re going to be sequestered in a hotel room without the ability to be near any of us because we’ll be set up at the FBI field office. Not to mention, going to Miami could put you in grave danger. We don’t know the Russians’ capabilities, and they may have people at the airports looking for you.”

  “I don’t care. And I could stay with Dozer’s father. His compound is impenetrable.”

  Bebe sighs and rubs her fingers along the bridge of her nose, a clear indication that I’ve given her a headache.

  “Bebe,” I say. When she focuses on me, I give it to her as real as I can. “I didn’t get to say what I needed to say to Dozer last night. I didn’t say it again this morning.”

  She frowns and tips her head. “You haven’t told him that you love him?”

  “Of course, I told him I love him,” I grumble irritably. “That’s a given.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “I didn’t tell Dozer that I want a future with him. That I want to be his wife and I want to have babies. I didn’t get a chance to tell him that I would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what he wanted. He left here, possibly to lay his life down for me, and he doesn’t even know how deeply my love goes. He needs to know exactly what he’s fighting for.”

  “He knows,” Bebe asserts.

  “He doesn’t,” I exclaim. “Because we lapsed into old habits after our initial admission of our feelings. We’re both afraid to truly express ourselves. This is so new and fragile, we’re treating it too carefully. We don’t have time to do that, and now I’ve let him leave without giving him the hope of something to come back to.”

  Bebe grinds her teeth. “Goddamn it,” she mutters. “Why did you have to tell me that?”

  “So you understand how important it is I get to Miami.”

  I see her resolve thinning, and yet she still attempts to dissuade me. “Pick up the phone and call him. You can reach him on the private plane.”

  I glare in frustration at her. “I certainly don’t know what you feel for Griff or how your relationship is, but one doesn’t commit their entire life and allegiance and loyalty until death do us part over the phone.” By the time I utter those last words, I’m almost yelling at her.

  To my surprise and annoyance, Bebe starts laughing. “Girl, I’m going to go ahead and award you this year’s Oscar for Best Dramatic Performance.”

  “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being real.”

  Bebe waves a hand, still chuckling. “I know you’re being real. And it makes me adore you even more. Dozer is a lucky man.”

  My heart sinks because she’s not giving me what I want. “Does that mean you’re not going to help me?”

  It’s a question but also a statement because I pretty much know the answer.

  Bebe leans over and logs out of her computer. When she turns back to me, she says, “I’m absolutely going to help you. I really want to go, too, and you’re just what my conscience needs to break the rules. Let’s go.”

  ♦

  It takes me all of five minutes to pack. Bebe has what she calls a “go bag,” something every agent keeps at headquarters in case they’re called out on a mission on a moment’s notice.

  It’s no easy feat to get past the handful of agents on the second floor. If any one of them sees me or Bebe heading out with bags to the freight elevator that leads to the garage, we’ll be stopped.

  Bebe is not only intelligent but devious. She emailed those agents, telling them that urgent information just came in from the FBI field office and that everybody needed to get into the conference room for a debriefing.

  The minute the conference room door closes and those poor men and women are inside waiting for Bebe to give them an update, we haul ass to the freight elevator. My heart pounds the entire time until we make it to the garage.

  “We don’t have time to dawdle. Regardless of who comes in or out of the doors, an alert goes to all smartphones. They’ll be coming after us now.”

  “Shit,” I exclaim, my heart now ready to explode. I didn’t think we’d be pursued yet, and a wave of panic paralyzes me.

  But Bebe grabs my wrist, and we jog through the lot to her car, a slick BMW sedan. She aims her fob at the vehicle and the trunk rises.

  “Get in,” she says, nodding.

  “What?” I exclaim, still terrified agents will be on us imminently.

  “We don’t know if Russians are in Pittsburgh. They could be watching this building. I drive out of here, it’s going to be me alone, in case they’re watching.”

  “I can lie down in the back seat,” I suggest.

  “Trunk,” she asserts. “It’s the safest. I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

  “Fine,” I exclaim, tossing in my bag and climbing in after it. Bebe winks before she locks me into darkness.

  It’s not long before Bebe pulls over and lets me out of the trunk. I quickly get into the passenger seat, and we’re zooming toward the airport.

  “If the agents come after us—”

  “Not if. They are.”

  I feel trapped, and I can’t handle this level of suspense. “How are we going to get on a flight?”

  “We’re not flying commercial,” Bebe says and looks over at me with a grim smile. “I called Jackson’s girlfriend, Camille.”

  “She’s the princess,” I say. Dozer told me about her.

  “I told her a bald-faced lie.” Bebe looks genuinely distressed about that as she switches lanes to pass some cars. “Told her I wanted a girls’ getaway with some friends because of high stress and asked if I could borrow her plane.”

  “And she let you?” I ask in awe.

  “Yup. She’s incredibly generous, although once she realizes I’ve lied to her, I’m guessing our friendship will tank.”

  “Maybe she’ll understand,” I say softly.

  “Maybe,” she mutters, giving the car some gas. “We just have to hope she doesn’t talk to Jackson in the next hour before we get in the air because he’ll pull the plug.”

  Hopelessness rises within me. “This isn’t going to work. We’re going to get stopped.”

  “Fuck that,” Bebe grits out, and I look at her, shocked. “If we can’t get there by plane, we’ll just drive.”

  “Really?” I ask, my faith once again renewed.

  Bebe shrugs. “I’ve already done all I need to do to piss off Kynan and Griff. Might as well go all the way.”

  “I could kiss you right now.”

  Bebe looks at me, a warning expression in place.

  I blow her a kiss instead.

  We make it to the private hangar without any trouble. Once inside, we’re greeted by a concierge of sorts who leads us immediately onto the tarmac. Apparently, royalty gets priority treatment, although I’m sure after Bebe’s call, they were working on filing the flight plan and readying the pilot for us.

  Twenty more minutes, we’re in the air, and I’m finally able to relax slightly.

  Only ten minutes after that, both my and Bebe’s phones start buzzing. We don’t have to turn them off on a private flight, although when I see it’s Dozer who’s calling, I have the sudden urge to power down. I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t want to hear him tell me to turn around and go back to Pittsburgh.

  Bebe flips her phone toward me—it’s Griff. She’s not a coward like me and answers, putting it on speaker so I can hear.

  “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing, Bebe?” Griff snarls. “You basically hijacked Camille’s plane—”

  “She gave us permission,” Bebe says primly.

  “You lied to her about where you were going, so I’m going to call it a hijacking. You went against Kynan’s authority, and you are willfully bringing Jess to Miami where she could be in serious danger.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Bebe says, and my eyes flare at her audacity to taunt him when he’s so angry.

  “I’m going to put you over my knee when I see you,” he rumbles in a low voice that has me terrified for her.

  Bebe laughs, her voice husky. “That’s a promise I will hold you to.”

  My cheeks heat at the implication, and I wonder what that would feel like if Dozer were to do that to me.

  Bebe stares as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, and my face feels like an inferno.

  “Griff,” Bebe says, her tone now serious, “we’re on our way. Don’t try to stop us. And I’ll love you forever if you smooth things over with Kynan and Dozer before we arrive.”

  “What time might that be?” he asks sharply.

  “A couple more hours.”

  “You stay at the private hangar. I’ll come pick you up. We’ll need to get Jess into a hotel and some police posted.”

  I shake my head, and Bebe nods. “She wants to stay with Dozer’s dad. He has a guarded compound. We’ll just need to get her there secretly.”

  “That will be Dozer’s call, not hers,” Griff snaps, and I know he’s mad at me too.

  “Understood,” Bebe says in a placating tone. “And thank you. You’re the—”

  The line goes dead.

  Bebe stares at her phone, jaw dropping slightly. “He hung up on me.” Her gaze rises to mine. “I can’t believe the jerk did that.”

  “He has reason to be mad,” I say, feeling the need to defend his actions somewhat. Bebe and I have made ourselves official pains in the ass.

  Dozer isn’t going to be happy with me, but oh well. He’ll just have to get over it because I’m not leaving until this is finished.

  CHAPTER 17

  Dozer

  Not sure I could ever be angrier with Jess than I am right now, but hopefully we’ll have a long life ahead of us for me to find out.

  I’m not mad over her desire to come to Miami—it’s the foolishness of her actions, which do nothing but put her life in danger. Luckily, Griff arranged for an FBI transport to the private hangar in Miami where Camille’s plane landed, and we’re able to pull right up to the aircraft. It’s impossible for any civilians to see us, so there’s almost no danger of recognition for the short rush down the plane stairs and into the back of the Suburban where we’re adequately hidden by pitch-black tinted windows.

  The door opens and Jess slides in, looking at me with a well-founded wariness. Bebe slides in right behind her as Griff puts their luggage in the back.

  “Dozer,” Jess whispers, apology heavy in her tone.

  I hold up a hand. “Don’t speak to me right now. I don’t feel like having our first major fight in front of other people.”

  Her mouth shuts, and I turn my attention to look out the window. If I dare look at her again, I’ll probably kiss her rather than throttle her, and I can’t do that until I have my chance to vent my anger. From the corner of my eye, I see Bebe reach over and pat Jess on the leg.

  Bebe’s going to get a piece of my mind, too, but for now, I’ll let her fiancé handle her.

  Griff gets in the front passenger seat, and the FBI agent behind the wheel takes off. They both scan the area as we pull out from the private area behind the hangar, through the parking lot and onto the roadway. A constant check of the rearview mirrors and me craning my neck to look behind us for several minutes, and we’re confident we’re not being followed.

  Bebe leans forward, puts her hand on Griff’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Are we taking Jess to a hotel?”

  He doesn’t acknowledge her touch. He’s pissed, but he answers. “To Dozer’s dad’s house.”

  Yeah… I called my dad and asked for a favor. He would never say no to taking Jess in and using his muscle to protect her, but he had to agree to let FBI agents inside the grounds on the perimeter as added security. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate at all, but I’m sure there’s been a mad scramble to make sure anything illegal at his compound is removed before our arrival.

  Bebe settles back in the seat and asks, “How did the press conference go?”

  It was supposed to be at noon today. I was going to stand up there with the special agent in charge as he gave an update on the manhunt for Ivan Borovsky. I was going to be introduced by my real name, the camera focused in on me closely, and I was going to appeal to the public for any leads for the capture of Borovsky. I was also going to taunt him, carefully crafted words we came up with to ensure the message would get to him. We’re hoping his ego is sufficiently intact after prison that he’ll send men after me.

  But that didn’t happen because Jess decided to come without invitation and that messed up our well-laid plans.

  I’m not ready to talk to Jess yet, but I answer Bebe’s question. “It got postponed so we could come to the airport and get you two.”

  The harsh tone in my voice causes Jess to shrink away from me, and I feel like shit for scaring her so bad.

  But goddamn it… I’m not only pissed but now I’m also terrified for her safety. A jumble of fucking nerves and emotions, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing, so I turn my attention back out the window.

  It’s a quiet, tense drive to my dad’s. The agent driving doesn’t take a direct route but rather a series of circuitous turns meant to reveal if anyone is following us.

  By the time we arrive at the iron gate, he’s confident there is no tail.