Echo chuckled. “Alright, lover boy, but seriously… where are we heading?”
The shift was instant. Laughter faded. Mission instincts returned. “We can’t go back to base.”
Torch nodded, face tightening. “Yeah. If this goes up the chain… if any of ours are in on it…”
Echo finished it. “We’d be walking right into a setup.”
“My place,” Ghost said.
Torch blinked, then looked at him in the mirror. “Your place? The super secret Ghost hide-away?”
“It’s a secure location and backs up to the bay. Nobody gets close without a warning.”
Echo was already on his phone. “I’ll ping the team. Get them moving.”
Rachel straightened, watching them work in unison, fast and wordless. “Your team—”
“They’re family,” Ghost said simply. “If something’s going down, they need to know. And if I trust anyone to watch our six, it’s them.”
Rachel understood what he wasn't saying. He was bringing her into his world, his safe place with the people he trusted most.
His hand squeezed hers, thumb moving slowly across her knuckles. She squeezed back.
Torch shook his head as he took the onramp toward Coronado. "Damn. She's really got you."
Ghost settled back against the seat. "Keep talking and you're swimming to the island."
Torch laughed and accelerated.
Rachel leaned into Ghost's side, letting exhaustion finally catch up with her. The engine hummed. His presence was solid and warm beside her. For the first time in days, she felt safe. Really safe.
Ghost glanced down at her, feeling the way she'd stopped fighting to stay alert. Letting him handle it. He'd carry this weight as long as she needed him to. Longer, if she'd let him.
33
The Jeep rolled to a stop, tires crunching over gravel. Ocean breeze poured through the open window, carrying salt spray and the sharp-sweet smell of eucalyptus from the landscaping. Rachel didn't move right away. She just stared through the windshield at the house beyond the gate.
If you could call it a house.
The Mediterranean estate sat tucked behind a wall of greenery like something out of Architectural Digest. Terracotta roof tiles caught the late afternoon sun and glowed amber. White stucco walls, tall palms swaying in the breeze, arched windows throwing back golden light. It looked nothing like a place Ghost would live. It looked peaceful. Beautiful.
Like the last twenty-four hours hadn't happened.
Torch cut the engine and stretched, his shoulder popping audibly. "Damn. I always forget how nice this place is."
Echo twisted in his seat, eyebrow raised. "Wait, Torch has been here before and I haven't? What the hell? And since when do you live in a Spanish villa with an ocean view, Ghost?"
Ghost pushed open his door without answering, but Rachel caught the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile.
She climbed out slowly, her legs still shaky from the adrenaline crash. This was where he lived. Where he came when missions ended and the world went quiet. It felt surreal standing here in the gravel driveway after running for her life through downtown San Diego hours ago.
Ghost came around the Jeep and his hand found the small of her back. The pressure of his palm anchored her. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get you inside."
Behind them, Torch and Echo were already pulling gear from the back, duffel bags, comms equipment, black rifle cases, giving them space without making it obvious.
Ghost led Rachel through the wrought-iron gate and up the path. Gravel crunched under her feet. The smell of saltwater was everywhere, mixing with jasmine from the bushes lining the walkway. He opened the front door and gestured her inside.
The space opened up around her.
