She froze in disbelief. “Yes,” she managed. “That’s him.”
“What a hero. Betrayed and set up, spending two incredible years in captivity, only to escape just in the nick of time. They were going to execute him as a spy,” Joseph told her eagerly. “It was a very daring rescue raid. Mercenaries performed it, but the Danes participated.”
Ohmygod They had rewritten history.Goose bumps covered every inch of Alex’s body.
“But that rescue was nothing compared to the rescue Blackwell led two weeks later.”
Alex squeaked, “He led a rescue himself?”
Joseph nodded, his silvery eyes intent. “During Preble’s first assault. There was an American woman being held in captivity inside of the palace, it seemed. No one knows much about her; it’s a shame. Not even her name. But Blackwell must have met her during his own years spent in Tripoli, and he led a small group of commandos in and brought her out while the city was under attack. It was a dangerous and daring operation.” Joseph stared. “She must have been an incredible woman for him to have risked his own life like that.”
Alex was faint. She leaned against the stacks for support. “I see.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. What … whatever happened to Blackwell?”
“The usual. He went home, got a few decorations, had a few kids. Blackwell Shipping still exists, you know. It’s one of the largest shipping companies in the world. Oil, mostly. I believe his great-great-great-grandson runs the company, which, by the way, finally went public a few years ago.”
Alex laid a hand on her heart. He’d gone home to his wife, had children. Joy changed suddenly, abruptly, to grief. She closed her eyes. Wanting desperately to be happy for him.
Because it had become so clear. Her destiny hadn’t been to find Xavier Blackwell and share a lifetime with him. Her destiny had been to intervene in history gone askew, to prevent a terrible injustice, to rescue him from a wrongful execution, so he could take his rightful place in history as the hero he truly was.
“Did I say something to upset you?” Joseph asked.
Alex forced the tears down. She gulped a lungful of air. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look well, you’re green,” he said, sliding his hand under her elbow.
Alex turned to gaze at him. How many times had Murad supported her just the same way?
Their gazes locked.
Silence fell between them.
He wet his lips. “Hey.” He managed a smile. “I know you’re going to think I’m way off base here, I know we only just met, but could we get together for coffee sometime? I …” He hesitated. “I don’t want to lose you, Alex.”
Alex nodded, then stiffened. She had never introduced herself.
He smiled, sliding his arm around her. It was the most casual gesture—and the most familiar. “Great.” He dropped his arm. “Do you want this?” he asked. “I don’t need it.”
Alex nodded, taking the book and clutching it to her breast.
He pulled a pen out of the breast pocket of his denim shirt and scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here’s my phone number. I’m in town for the month. I’m staying with friends.”
Alex took his phone number, still in shock, and gave him hers.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, very concerned.
“I’m fine. I’m just jet-lagged.”
It was clear that he didn’t believe her. “Want me to walk you somewhere?”
“No. Give me a call later,” Alex said.
Joseph nodded, his gaze riveted on her face. “Okay. I’ll call you this evening.”
“That would be nice,” Alex said very hoarsely.
