Page 126 of Mission Shift

But my body was screaming for rest. And honestly? This wasn’t my fight.

I sighed, shaking my head, then took the medicine from him. “Fine.”

Braxton nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing as he opened the door and motioned for me to move. He followed me down the hallway, steadying me again when the boat swung to the side.

He stopped at my door, pushed it open, and waited. I stepped inside, glancing back just long enough to catch a small smile playing across his lips.

There were a thousand comebacks I could’ve made, but exhaustion pressed down hard on me, and I couldn’t bring myself to say any of them. Even the shower I’d been craving would have to wait.

Braxton pulled the door shut behind me.

I stood in the dimly lit cabin, unsure what to do with everything that had just happened.

Chapter thirty-seven

Iwoke up to silence. No alarms, no gunfire, no shouting. Just the deep, steady hum of theValkyriecutting through the water. For a moment, my mind refused to believe it. My body was too warm, too relaxed, too…at peace.

That was unsettling.

A glance at a clock told me I had been out for nearly twelve hours. Jesus—what time zone was I even in? My mind and body must have shut down the second I hit the bed. What pain meds had Braxton given me? I chuckled at the thought of the Boy Scout doing something so nefarious as sending me off into a drug-induced sleep for my own good. I stretched, every muscle groaning in protest, then rolled out of the sheets and headed for the shower.

Steam filled the small bathroom as I stepped under the water. It sluiced off the salt and sweat, carrying away the grime that had accumulated over the last twenty-four hours. My skin still bore faint marks from the last time Malinov’s men put their hands on me, but the worst of it had already faded. My body healed fast. The rest would take longer.

After drying off, I tugged on some clothes. I found a charcoal-gray fitted cashmere boatneck sweater that hugged my frame. I paired it with some matte-black, high-waisted leggings. They were sleek, with side pockets and just the right amount of compression to make my butt look perky. My outfit was built for movement but still stylish enough to pass for casual wear on this luxury yacht. I quickly blow-dried my hair and styled it with my fingers. Finishing off my outfit, I laced up a pair of black sneakers and headed out the door.

Ready to face whatever came next, I made my way upstairs to find the guys. The second I stepped into the main dining area, Nikolai’s voice hit me like a slap.

“Ah, the princess finally emerges.” He leaned back against the bar, arms crossed, exhaustion carved into his face. “You slept through all the fun.”

Braxton sat at the bar beside him, one hand wrapped around a coffee cup, the other draped lazily over the back of the barstool. He looked about as wrecked as Nikolai. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d been in last night. He lifted his gaze to me, scanning me, but said nothing.

I grabbed an apple from a tray on the bar, ignoring Nikolai’s smirk. “So you guys had fun?”

Nikolai gestured around broadly in a theatrical move. “Oh, you know. Just a casual game ofdodge the Russian patrol boatsin the middle of the Gulf of Finland. Then we got to playavoid Finnish radarwhile figuring out if the Swedes were feelinghospitable or wanted to overtake us.” He shook his head. “Hell of a time, really. I have no idea how you slept through it.”

I took a bite of the apple, chewing as I took a look at the screens, which were displaying all manner of maps and messages. Plates of food covered the bar—cold cuts, fresh bread, cheese, and fruit. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I’d not eaten breakfast and almost missed lunch. Braxton must have caught the way I eyed the food because he nodded toward it.

“You should eat,” he said. “You look…” He hesitated. His expression changed, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he blurted, “God, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

The words landed like a grenade in the space between us. His brows pulled together almost immediately, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “I mean—” He grimaced, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You just…look different. Well rested. I’ve only seen you in high-stress situations and running for your life. You know…”

He stopped speaking before making the situation any more awkward. I had no idea what to say in response, so I busied myself filling a plate with food and pouring a glass of juice. Compliments weren’t exactly a thing in my life, and Braxton, for all his quiet intensity, wasn’t the type to throw words around without meaning them. Heat crept up my neck, a foreign and unwelcome sensation. After a few moments of silence, I turned toward Braxton and blinked. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”

Nikolai laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, this is priceless.”

Braxton and I snapped at the same time, “Shut up, Nik.”

Nikolai grinned but didn’t push it further. Instead, he straightened and rolled his shoulders. “All right, let’s get down to business.” He motioned toward the navigation map on one of the large monitors. “Since you missed the first leg of our daring escape, here’s the recap.”

He moved to sit at his war table. “Thirty minutes after you passed out, we were threading the needle between Russian patrol routes, cutting south to blend in with civilian maritime traffic. I spoofed our signal to make it appear as if we were a Finnish research vessel.”

“Which almost worked,” Braxton muttered, sipping his coffee, “until a patrol boat got curious.”

Nikolai smirked. “Nothing a little fast maneuvering and electronic warfare couldn’t handle.” He tapped the screen in front of him. “I set a few well-placed ghost signals that sent them on a wild goose chase while we slipped through. We crossed most of the gulf under cover of night, drifted for a bit to keep our radar signature minimal, and then pushed into the Baltic at dawn. Had to convince some curious Swedish military planes that we were just a wealthy family on a much-needed vacation, but nothing too dramatic.”

I nodded, swallowing a bite of strawberry and finding a stool a few seats down from Braxton at the bar. “And now?”

“This is an exclusive private yachting port in Norway.” Nikolai pointed to a waypoint on the map. “We’ll reach this refueling stop in about forty hours. After that, it’s on to the North Sea, then the Atlantic. If all goes well, we should hit Manhattan by the first of October.”

---