He grinned, that same easy grin that had always gotten under her skin. “Still looking damn good.”
She didn’t roll her eyes. She kissed him again.
Brenna barely had time to savor the second kiss before she heard footsteps behind them. Beck and Harlan crossed the lot, both looking worse for wear. Beck had a fresh line of stitches along his temple, red and clean, standing out against the dirt still on his face.
He gave them a crooked smile. “For the record, I’m not a fan of getting stitched up.”
Brenna raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
Colt chuckled, still close beside her. “Bet it builds character.”
Harlan grinned. “Might even improve your bedside manner. You know, give you some empathy when you’re digging bullets out ofourflesh.”
Beck shook his head without hesitation. “Nope. Not a chance.”
Brenna laughed, and it felt real. Not just relief or leftover adrenaline, but something lighter. Warmer.
Alive.
Harlan clapped Beck on the shoulder, careful of the stitches. “It was worth a try.”
Brenna leaned back against the bumper again, her arms crossed, eyes on Beck.
He nodded toward her, the hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Gotta say, Brenna, hell of a shot. Right through Gary’s knee. Clean.”
She shrugged. “Wasn’t exactly aiming for clean.”
Beck chuckled. “Still. Impressive under pressure. Remind me never to piss off someone with your skill set when they’re holding a weapon.”
Brenna smiled, the tension in her chest easing another inch. “You were the one tied to a bomb and still yelling at us to leave you behind.”
Beck shrugged, wincing a little. “I’m dramatic like that.”
They laughed, and for a brief moment, there was no blood, no pain, no Gary, no ghosts. Just them. Together.
Still breathing.
Noah made his way over, his sleeves rolled up, dirt on his boots, but his usual calm in place. He stopped in front of them, hands on his hips, and gave a small nod.
“Congrats on a good op,” he said. His eyes scanned the group, then landed on Brenna. “All of you. And that includes you.”
Brenna blinked, caught off guard by the direct praise.
“It’s nice to have a different outcome this time,” Noah added, voice quieter now.
It was.
She didn’t say anything. Because she wasn’t sure she could have survived another Timberline massacre.
Beck clapped Noah on the shoulder, then turned to Colt and Brenna. “Noah arranged to have some rides delivered so we can get the heck out of here. I’m gonna go find something greasy and terrible to eat. Or sleep for a week. Haven’t decided yet.”
Harlan smiled. “Do both. In that order.”
They exchanged quick goodbyes, then headed off together toward one of the five Crossfire Ops SUVs that arrived about a half hour earlier.
Noah stayed, and he looked at Brenna. “You know,” he said, “if you want back in, we could use someone like you.”
Her heart skipped.
