Sarah deliberately lowered her hand from where it had been unconsciously adjusting her frames. "I didn't realize I was that obvious."
"It's okay to be scared. What we're walking into..." He shrugged. "My team's the best, but there are no guarantees in this business."
Sarah turned in her seat to face him, needing him to understand. "I'm not scared about what might happen to me."
His eyebrows drew together. "Then what?"
"I'm scared about what might happen to all of you. Because of me." The words tumbled out in a rush. "This whole thing started because I couldn't leave well enough alone. I kept digging when I should have stopped. And nowyour entire team is converging on Charleston because I couldn't mind my own business. And I don’t have your skills. That makes me a liability."
Griff pulled into a rest stop overlooking a valley painted in spring green. For a moment, they sat in silence, windows down, listening to birds and distant traffic.
"Sarah." His voice was gentler than she'd ever heard it. "Look at me."
She turned to meet his eyes, those gray-blue depths that seemed to see straight through her carefully constructed defenses.
His hand covered hers on the console, warm and steady. "You didn't cause this, Sarah. You exposed it. There's a difference."
"Your team though?—"
"My team has been hunting these same people for months. The difference is now we actually have a chance to stop them. Because of you. I haven’t told you this, but you were my last shot at finding the rest of Tank’s killers. I got a hit one time when you dove into some Stillwater data. That’s why I was watching you." His thumb brushed across her knuckles, sending electricity up her arm. "You gave us hope. Gave me hope."
Lord,she prayed silently,help him find his way back to You. Help him see that he's not just a weapon or a tool for justice.
And if it's Your will,she added, her heart racing at her own boldness,maybe help him see that some of us think he's worth fighting for too.
In the coming days, they'd face a conspiracy that reached the highest levels of government. But today, they were two people sharing snacks and stories on a sunny afternoon, discovering that sometimes love had a way of blooming in the most unlikely soil.
Even if neither of them was quite ready to admit it yet.
As Charleston's skyline appeared on the horizon hours later, Sarah found herself praying—not just for their safety or the mission's success, but for the man beside her. For his healing, his faith, his ability to see himself the way she was beginning to see him.
25
The next morning,Griff stood at the window of the safehouse, watching dawn paint Charleston's skyline gold. His palms were slick with sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs. In less than an hour, his team would be here. In person this time.
The video call yesterday had been awkward enough. But facing them in the flesh after months of silence? A whole different animal.
His stomach churned. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, trying to calm his breathing. He wished he had a relationship with the Lord like Sarah did. Or the rest of his team, for that matter. For a longtime now, his relationship with faith had been more wrestling match than comfort zone.
Which was entirely on him. He meant to change that. Wanted to. But he had no idea where to begin. Thoughts for another time.
Behind him, Sarah slept curled on the leather couch, her laptop still open beside her, code scrolling endlessly across the screen. She'd finally crashed around four AM, mid-sentence about encryption patterns. Even in sleep, she lookedready to spring into action—a habit she'd probably developed after their first encounter.
His hands trembled slightly as he checked his watch. They'd be here any minute. What would he even say? "Sorry I ghosted you all?" "Thanks for coming even though I'm a terrible friend?"
The familiar sound of motorcycles broke the morning quiet. Two bikes, approaching from different directions but arriving simultaneously. Had to be Axel and Izzy—still coordinating like they shared a brain even after all this time.
Griff's chest tightened painfully. His pulse spiked.
The garage door opener activated—of course they'd already gotten the code. The bikes' engines echoed in the enclosed space below before cutting off. Footsteps on the internal stairs—Izzy's determined stride, Axel's heavier tread.
Griff met them at the top of the stairs, hand shaking as he gripped the rail.
Izzy punched him. Hard. Luckily not in his injured shoulder.
"Jerk," she said, then pulled him into a fierce hug that nearly cracked his ribs, despite the fact that he outweighed her by a good seventy pounds. "Love you."
Over her shoulder, Griff met Axel's eyes. Their teammate looked tired but relieved.
