“Yeah, me too.” He leaned close. “But I think, if we put our heads together, we can figure it out. Come up with a plan.”
“A tactical assessment.”
“I’ll probably need more information.” He met her eyes.
Then he kissed her. Softly, careful of her IV, her bandages, her bruises. But underneath the gentleness, he tasted truth. Hope.
A happy ending.
When they finally pulled apart, she was smiling, her beautiful whiskey eyes shining.
Then her expression shifted. “Did you get Alan Martin?”
Dakota’s jaw tightened. “No.”
She was already trying to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at her stitches. “I need to get out of this bed.”
“Have you lost your mind?” He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, easing her back. “You’re not going anywhere. You just had surgery. Your spleen is in a medical waste bin somewhere.”
“Martin is?—”
“Gone. For now. And you’re staying right here until the doctors say otherwise.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a smile underneath. “Oh, really? Are you the boss of me now?”
“Yep.” He settled back in his chair, crossing his arms, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. “Doctor’s orders. My orders. Same thing.”
“They’re really not.”
“They are today.” His voice softened. “Get some rest. Heal. We’ll figure out Martin together. But not until you’re ready.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then something in her relaxed—the tension draining out of her shoulders, the fight easing from her expression.
“I’m going to be a terrible patient,” she warned.
“I know.” He reached out, tucked a strand of tangled hair behind her ear. “This’ll be fun.”
A soft knock came at the door. And then it opened.
Ham.
When he stepped inside, his eyes went to their intertwined hands, and a small smile crossed his face.
“Good to see you awake,” he said to Jayden.
“Good to be awake.” She didn’t let go of Dakota’s hand. “What’s the situation?”
“London’s handling the diplomatic fallout. Secret Service is doing their own investigation. They’re not happy about how close Martin got, but they’re grateful for the assist.” Ham moved to stand at the foot of her bed. “We’re clear to leave Australia whenever you’re stable enough to travel.”
“What’s next?” Dakota asked.
“I need to get back to Minnesota. Regroup. Figure out Martin’s next move before he makes it.” Ham ran a hand through his hair—a rare sign of exhaustion. “Whatever he’s planning, it’s not over. President White is still in his crosshairs.”
Movement in the doorway. West appeared, looking cleaner than the rest of them—he’d had time to change, to wash off the operational grime.
“And,” West said, “we have a wedding to be at in a month.”
Dakota looked at Jayden. “One of our teammates is getting married,” he said. “Key West.”
