“Hey.” His tone soft, almost breaking on the word. He leaned forward and adjusted the blanket that had slipped from her shoulder. “You’re okay. Took a few hits, but the doc says you’ll live.”
She tried to smile, but it faltered. “You say that like you were planning my funeral.”
He let out a rough sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Wasn’t planning it, no. Just... wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have to.”
Something fragile cracked open in his expression. He’d always been the steady one, composed even when everything else fell apart. No jokes passed his lips, only honest words. Seeing the rawness in his eyes—unshielded, human—unnerved her more than the pain.
“What happened?” she asked, though part of her already knew. “The SUV?”
He nodded, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Gone by the time I made it out. I followed the tracks until they hit asphalt, then nothing. Whoever it was knew how to cover their trail.”
She swallowed hard. “The casing. It’s gone too.”
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “They took it.”
Silence filled the room, heavy with the unspoken truth—they’d both been baited. She turned her head toward the window, where the early morning blurred outside. “So Laurel Tide’s on to us.”
“Looks that way. They even disabled our ride, so I had to bring you in Dan’s borrowed car.” He hesitated, then leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Viv, this is on me.”
Her gaze snapped to him. “What?”
“This.” His hand cut through the air, trembling just enough that she noticed. His hands never shook. He gestured toward the bandage on her temple, the IV snaking from her wrist, themonitors tracing out the fragile rhythm of her heart. His voice broke low. “You being here. Getting hurt. It’s my fault.”
The words hit harder than the fall. Vivian’s heartbeat skittered, the steady beep of the monitor quickening. Her fingers curled in the blanket, the rough weave digging into her palms as she tried to ground herself. Pain flared under her ribs when she drew a breath too sharp, but she didn’t care. “That’s ridiculous,” she managed, though her throat ached.
Blake’s jaw flexed. The muscle there ticked once, twice. He stared at the floor, his hand still hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for her or keep his distance. When he finally looked up, something raw bled through his eyes—guilt, exhaustion, and that stubborn streak of self-reproach that had always made him impossible to reason with. But this was different; he didn’t cover it with his sexy smile or quick wit.
“Is it?” His voice came out quiet but iron-edged, like it cost him something to say. He exhaled hard through his nose, shoulders sagging as he dragged a hand down his face. “I pushed. Like I always do.”
Vivian felt it then—the shift in the room. The air heavy with unspoken things, with the weight of everything he hadn’t said over the years. His eyes, normally so sharp and assessing, looked unguarded for once. Defeated.
Her stomach twisted. She’d seen him angry, relentless, even reckless—but never like this. Never so human. The sight hollowed something inside her chest and replaced it with an ache that throbbed deeper than the bruises along her ribs.
She stared at him, seeing past the gruff edge, past the years of controlled detachment he wore like armor. “You’re blaming yourself for someone else’s ambush? An ambush you warned me about. If this is on anyone, it’s me.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
She shook her head, bewilderment creeping in, adding to her dizziness.
“I’m blaming myself for forgetting what matters.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’ve spent so long chasing leads and ghosts that I stopped thinking about who gets caught in the crossfire. I swore after the O’Malley case I’d never make that mistake again.”
Vivan’s chest tightened. She remembered O’Malley—an informant Blake had vouched for, who’d ended up dead because their leak gave away his safehouse location. It had gutted Blake, though he’d never said as much. Until now.
She reached for his hand without thinking. “You’re not the reason this happened.”
He didn’t pull away, but his fingers curled, as if he wasn’t used to being touched. “Lucky was right. I’ll do anything to get my man.”
“Lucky? That criminal back at the Christmas Cove op? Don’t listen to him.”
“Then I should’ve listened to your warnings. And I’m not upset about losing an informant. Well, I am, but that’s part of the job. But risking you. That’s… somehow… different.”
Her throat tightened. She’d waited years to hear him say something like that—to be more than the mission, more than the job. “Blake…”
He shook his head, squeezing her hand once before letting go. “I mean, losing a partner is the same as failing the job.”
The way he shifted away from her, that wall building like armor sliding over his face along with that wicked wink of his told her he’d gotten too close for his comfort, and she’d fallen for it. Bitterness broke through her own defenses. “Because you feel that losing a partner looks bad on you.”
He didn’t deny it. He only ran a hand through his hair and did that casual swagger thing he did around her bed. “Listen.You’re going to tell Maddox I sent you back. That we had a disagreement about the lead, you demanded I follow procedure, and I refused. That’ll keep my cover clean with them, and I’ll tell Dan at the docks that you left because of the boat, and the fact that I bought it without your input broke our marriage before we ever got started. He can think I’m still working the docks while you file the report.”
