He knelt, slipped off her shoe, and pressed a tracker no bigger than a nickel inside. “This tracker pings every thirty seconds. If it stops, we move in.”
He stood and held out his hand, palm up. “Clip this inside the waistband of your uniform. If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you press it. Even if you’re yelling for help, hit it too. No hesitation.”
She took the dime-sized panic button, fingers brushing his skin. “I won’t hesitate.”
He studied her. Tired eyes. Steady jaw. Quiet fear but unshakeable resolve. His girl had brass balls, and no matter how insane he found this, he was damn proud of her.
“Do you know how much I hate this?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, the rasp of his voice betraying his apprehension. “You should be in class right now, mastering that pastry-wrapped beef thing with the nasty capers.”
“Beef Wellington,” she said, a shaky laugh escaping. “That was almost ten years ago. You remembered.”
“How could I forget? You made me taste it and traumatized me.”
Her smile faded, but her eyes stayed warm. “I wish things were different.”
“So do I.”
Her hands came up, framing his face, her thumbs brushing the stubble along his jaw. “Please understand that I need to do this. For us. For the girls still out there. For Dad and Ethan—so their sacrifice isn’t for nothing.”
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.
“Be smart. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“I won’t.”
“You’re our eyes and ears inside, nothing more.”
“I know.”
“If you get hurt, I’ll never forgive Dev and Leland.”
She licked her lips, hope audible when she asked, “Does that mean you’ll forgive me?”
“Only if you come back to me.” He kissed her—soft, slow, aching. A promise and a plea.
The door creaked open.
A throat cleared. “Pardon the interruption,” Rhys said. “Emily needs to go now, or she’ll be late.”
Emily pulled away, breath shaky but her eyes steady. She hopped down from the table. Her arms surrounded him and squeezed tight before slipping past him and heading for the door.
Alec watched her go, every instinct screaming for him to stop her.
But he didn’t.
Not this time.
Chapter 15
The retirement banquet was textbook—white linens, shrimp skewers, a jazz trio playing just loud enough to be annoying. Emily moved through it all, drawing from her years of experience to stay composed, but her nerves were frayed. Every brush of a shoulder made her flinch. Every dropped tray or clatter of plates sent her heart racing.
Regina caught her near the dessert station, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You’re jumpy, Peterson. Did someone swap your decaf with a triple espresso?”
Emily forced a smile. “It’s been a long day.”
