There was an ache in her heart when Dakota lifted her onto the wheelchair, knowing he would fly on. But physically, Rylee was fine. Her foot had regained sensation; she could walk. “Dakota, you’re hovering.”
“Get used to it,” he said.
Rylee bent to kiss Tank goodbye. “All the steaks when I get home. All of them. I’ll cook for you and Fifi.”
With her hand on Tank’s head, she tipped back and accepted a kiss from Dakota that, if Rylee read about it in herfantasy novels, would have been described as a kiss that claimed her as his.
And she hoped that Dakota felt that same sentiment from her.
Cemented.
That was what happened in desperate situations.
But this kind of cemented relationship was a world apart from the other connections she’d made in her life.
The sun had circled the Earth.
And here it was, Friday.
She was sitting in the hotel lobby, waiting until it was time to ask the doorman to hail her a cab.
She hadn’t heard from Dakota since Heathrow. Of course, he’d been flying, then had to deal with McLeod’s arrest.
It was after midnight in the States.
And with that thought, her phone rang. Rylee snatched it up with anticipation and found Neesa’s name on her screen.
“Dressed and ready?” Neesa’s voice was bright.
“Just wondering what’s happening with Quebec.”
“Yeah, I heard from Mandy that you were involved in an event,” Neesa said. “The team is fine. Morale is high. They’re on task.”
“Good to know, but that’s how Mandy categorized my last night in Turkey? An event?”
“Why? How would you describe it?” Neesa’s voice edged with worry.
Rylee took a minute to bring Neesa up to speed.
“I bet it felt like it went on for hours, but we got a readout from Iniquus Logistics and the whole thing, start to finish, was less than twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, it felt longer,” Rylee said.
“So I have good news. Team Mike and the equipment have arrived, and Quebec is taking a rest day unless they getcalled to a compression injury. But Egypt is there, and last report, they were busy setting up their field hospital.”
“Perfect,” Rylee said.
“Jasper already told me about Shithead McLeod’s arrest. That’s his prison name. He’s not in prison, but jail. The Secret Service convinced the judge that he’s a flight risk. If he could print his own money, there was no reason not to flee. Nothing to hold him back.”
“I hope he rots there,” Rylee said.
“Okay,” Neesa said. “Catch me up on you. You arrived on Wednesday as instructed.”
“Can you believe it?”
“What did you do to relax yesterday?” Neesa asked. “I couldn’t get you on the phone.”
“I turned my phone off while I indulged in the hotel spa. I picked the full-day package. And after I was rubbed and buffed, I just wasn’t in the mood for words. I went to bed.”
