"Hard to say. Could be days. Could be hours. But they're not giving up."
"Copy that. Keep me posted."
"Will do. And Ghost?"
"Yeah?"
"Keep her close."
"Plan on it."
He ended the call and looked at Rachel. She could see the tension in his shoulders now, the concern in his eyes that he was trying to hide.
"They're not going to find you," he said. "Not here."
Rachel nodded. But her hands were cold and her chest felt tight. The fear was back, different from this morning's anger. This was colder. More visceral. They were close. Getting closer.
Ghost stood and came around the table. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. "Hey. Look at me."
She met his eyes.
"We're going to end this. Two more days and the team's back. We run the op. We get the proof we need. And then we bury these bastards." His hand cupped her face, fingers threading through her hair. "You just have to trust me a little longer."
"I do trust you."
"Good." He kissed her forehead, lingering there. "Because I'm not letting anything happen to you."
She pressed her face against his chest, breathing him in. He smelled like the body wash from earlier and something that was just him. His arms came around her, solid and warm, and she let herself believe him. Let herself feel safe despite the fear trying to claw its way up her throat.
***
Later that night, they ended up on the couch. Rachel was curled against Ghost's side, her head on his chest, his arm around her. Some action movie played on the TV, explosions and car chases and dialogue they weren't really following. The volume was low enough that she could still hear his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Outside, the night had turned cool. She could hear the ocean through the open window, waves hitting the shore in a steady rhythm. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked twice and went quiet.
"Can I ask you something?" Rachel said after a while.
"Yeah."
"How do you do it? Go into danger over and over. Knowing you might not come back."
Ghost was quiet for a moment. His hand kept moving in slow circles against her back. "It's what I'm trained for. What I'm good at."
"But doesn't it scare you?"
"Sometimes." His hand moved up to her hair, fingers threading through the strands. "But the fear means you're still human. It keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive."
Rachel tilted her head to look up at him. His face was cast in the blue light from the TV, shadows emphasizing the strong line of his jaw. "Have you ever thought about doing something else? After?"
"After what?"
"After the Navy. After all this."
He considered that, his eyes on the TV but clearly not seeing it. "Sometimes. But I don't know what else I'd do. This is all I've ever been."
"That's not true."
He looked down at her. "What do you mean?"
