"That's not exactly reassuring."
I almost smiled. "Go. Sleep. I'll be right here if you need anything."
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Whatever he saw in my face seemed to satisfy him, because he finally nodded and turned toward the bedroom.
He paused at the door. "Vance?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything."
My throat tightened. "Get some rest."
The bedroom door closed softly.
I stood in my kitchen, holding a cup of terrible coffee, and wondered how I had ended up here.
The couch was as uncomfortable as he'd predicted.
I shifted for the fourth time, trying to find a position that didn't involve the exposed spring digging into my hip. The throw blanket was too short and smelled faintly of dust. The pillow was too flat.
None of it mattered. I wasn't sleeping anyway.
I stared at the ceiling and listened to the silence. The building was quiet at this hour—no traffic noise, no neighbors arguing through thin walls. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of someone breathing in my bedroom.
What are you doing?
I'd smuggled a billionaire's son out of a hotel during an active search. My career was probably over. If the Langfords found out where their son was hiding, they'd bury me.
And yet, when I closed my eyes, I kept seeing him crouched in that corridor. Shaking. Desperate.
Please. Please don't make me go back.
I'd seen that look before. In soldiers pushed past their limits, in men who'd given up on themselves.
Walking away hadn't been an option.
I'd deal with the consequences later. For now, I had done what needed to be done.
Morning came at 0530, as it always did.
My body didn't care that I'd been up past midnight. Fifteen years of military discipline had hardwired me to wake before dawn, and no amount of sleep deprivation could override it.
I lay still for a moment, listening. The apartment was quiet. Tobias was still asleep in my bedroom—I could hear nothing from that direction, which probably meant he was out cold.
Good. He needed the rest.
I got up and changed into running clothes as quietly as I could—
A crash came from the bedroom.
I was through the door in two seconds, calculating threats, reaching for the weapon I kept in the nightstand—
Tobias was on the floor.
Tangled in the sheets, one leg caught on the bed frame, hair sticking up in every direction. He was holding a lamp like a weapon, eyes wild with panic.
"What—who—" He squinted at me in the dim light. "Vance?"
