Page 59 of Every Last Breath

Castle scooted his chair back, rested his elbows on his knees, popping his knuckles. He’d broken that hand once—either on a SEAL mission or, more likely, a drunken fight. “We’re going to find him and shut him down.”

“Get your after-action reports done,” Sanborn said. “Then get some rest.”

Almost everyone got up, gathering their things to leave. Reece and Gideon exchanged a prolonged look. “I’ll talk to her,” Gideon said. Reece nodded and left.

Gideon gestured to the hall, and Maddox followed him.

“What’s up?”

He cleared his throat. “The background check Cole ran.” His gaze shifted away from her. “Dug up Privé. Clinic in Canada.”

Her breath locked, but her mind spun.

“The Agency never found it,” he said, still not looking at her. “The Gray Box never found it.”

Thanks to her father pulling strings to have it buried. Although apparently not deep enough.

“It’s your business. Changes nothing. Yeah?” He put a hand on her shoulder, meeting her eyes.

Ice-cold. As usual. Thank God, there wasn’t a flicker of pity.

She nodded.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze, planted a peck on her cheek, and headed toward the black ops section.

She stood frozen for a moment, humbled.

They’d fought and bled together, would die to protect one another, partied hard to release the pressure from work, and got each other through real-world crap. Right after his wife died, Gideon had crashed on her sofa for a month. Maddox had helped him pack up his wife’s things, been there to listen, even at three in the morning. And Reece’s divorce had wrecked him in a profound way. He’d sold most of his stuff, and what he couldn’t sell, he’d burned. He’d moved into a camper at an RV park and shut down some part of himself she still hoped to reach. They picked up the pieces together, made the toughest times bearable.

But for Gideon and Reece not to report knowledge of something that could result in the revocation of her security clearance and, at worst, theirs too for withholding such information went so much deeper than her battle brothers looking out for her. They were violating an oath they’d taken, for her sake.

Maddox ducked into the conference room. Cole lingered, looking at her. She sat and forced herself not to get drawn in by the electric intensity he radiated. Or the magnetic appeal of those dark eyes and the jagged scar that didn’t make him less beautiful but more.

“We wouldn’t have gotten into the auction without you.” She kept her tone formal. “You went above and beyond.”

That was framing things lightly. She’d endangered his life twice, in asking him to see his brother and again at the auction. The biggest threat to him was her. She couldn’t let anything happen to him because of this operation.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done. You deserve a medal. Really.”

So much more needed to be said, so many questions begged for answers. What had he been doing for nine years? How could he be so cruel to let her think he was dead?

But it’d all have to wait.

“Maddox.” Cole grasped her hands, held her captive with those eyes. “We need to talk.”

“This isn’t the time or the place.” Her tongue was thick and heavy. She freed her fingers and balled her hands in her lap, fighting a shiver at the loss of heat from his palms.

“You need to rest. Even your boss ordered you to sleep. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He put a hand on her leg, and her thighs clenched. The hot gleam in his eyes was a warning. To be fully vested in the mission, she had to be divested of him. For a little while. He was a distraction, dulling her edge. His presence was a constant reminder that she was a woman, who’d once fallen. Madly. Deeply. Completely.

Loving him, wanting him, her anger over being abandoned by him tinted every thought and emotion in his presence. Like beet juice on fingers, clothes, teeth. Leaving a troublesome stain.

And that had almost gotten them killed today. Trying for a do-over with him while tackling this mission was suicide at best. Worst case, a species-threatening event.

She’d been greedy once, and everything had ended in disaster. She couldn’t have it all. Not then. Not now. This time, she had to make the sacrifice. “Do you remember the video of the guy who died slowly, painfully?”

His gaze fell. “Of course.”