"Pack tonight. I'll coordinate with Finn. Tomorrow morning, we let Briggs think we're cooperating, then we move on our own timeline. Rhys will run counter-surveillance to make sure nobody follows us to Finn's place."
I end the call and return to the exam room. Eli's standing by the door, positioned where he can see both Traci and the hallway. He reads my expression before I say anything, and when he moves closer to hear what I have to say, I catch the scent of woodsmoke and cold air clinging to his jacket.
Too close. He's standing too close and my body registers it before my brain catches up.
"What happened?"
His voice is low, pitched just for me. The intimacy of it sends heat up the back of my neck.
"She saw the Marshal. The guy they know runs this thing." I tell him quietly. "Can identify him."
Something dangerous shifts behind his eyes—not fear, but something colder and sharper. My breath catches.
"She saw the guy running this thing?” I nod. “Then they won't stop until she's dead or they are."
"Zeke has a plan. The feds will want to move her to an Anchorage safe house. We're going to let them think that's happening." I meet his gaze and immediately regret it. Those eyes are too direct, too intense. Like he can see past every defense I've ever built. "But we're actually taking her to Finn Ashworth's compound. Off-grid. Completely outside federal systems. I'm coming with you. She needs consistency."
His jaw tightens. A muscle jumps beneath the stubble he hasn't bothered shaving. For a moment neither of us moves, standing close enough that I can see the faint scar along his left cheekbone, the way his pulse beats in the hollow of his throat.
"You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do. I'm her doctor. Where she goes, I go." I hold his stare even though everything in me wants to look away. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't do anything stupid trying to protect her."
The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Almost. The suggestion of it makes my pulse stutter. "Too late for that."
We're still standing close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. I should step back. Should put distance between us. Should stop noticing the way his shoulders fill out that jacket or how his presence seems to take up more space than his actual size.
I don't move. Neither does he.
The moment stretches, charged with awareness and everything we're not saying. Then Traci shifts in her chair and the spell breaks.
He moves to collect Traci, every step deliberate. "What time?"
"Zeke will call with logistics. Pack tonight. Be ready to move fast if the timeline changes."
"Understood." He pauses at the door. "The network contractor's been mapping the town for days. If they figure out we're moving her, they'll try to hit us during transport."
"You think they're watching now?"
"I'd be watching if I were them." His eyes scan the parking lot through the window. "Which means we assume they are."
Eli collects Traci and they head for his truck. I watch from the window as he runs his usual counter-surveillance—checking mirrors, scanning rooflines, tracking every vehicle on the street.But there's something different now. More focused. He's not just protecting her anymore. He's hunting for threats.
He opens the passenger door for Traci, waits while she climbs in with her backpack clutched to her chest. Says something I can't hear through the glass. Whatever it is makes Traci's shoulders drop slightly. Not much, but enough to notice. He's reassuring her. Keeping her calm despite what she just revealed.
The way he positions himself between the truck and potential sight lines while she settles into the seat is so automatic it's nearly invisible. But I see it. The protective instinct so bone-deep it doesn't require conscious thought.
The operative who spent years hiding in the wilderness remembers exactly how dangerous he used to be.
And God help me, watching him shift into that mode does things to me it absolutely shouldn't.
I turn away from the window before I can analyze that thought too closely.
Back at my desk, patient files blur in front of me. The next days won't be routine, no matter how much I pretend otherwise. And I just volunteered to spend hours in a vehicle with a man who makes my carefully ordered life feel suddenly insufficient.
One moment keeps replaying. The way our eyes met and held. The awareness that passed between us like current through water.
I'm Traci's doctor. He's her guardian. That's the relationship that matters right now.
