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With a whisk, Lunchbox began to whip the eggs.

“The way I see it, we go after Reznik now. He’s one of the big bidders, a lynchpin. We pull him and we strike loud. We send the others scrambling for cover.” That was definitely one way to handle it. “Not like we don’t owe Reznik some pain. Or… we ghost now and get Grace back stateside and to base. Let things chill here.”

She would never agree to the second, he had to know that.

“We can’t do both,” Lunchbox pressed on. “She’s not bulletproof.”

All facts. He wasn’t wrong. Going after them with her would risk her. Securing her meant letting them go for now. She wanted to be used as a weapon. “If we pull her,” I reasoned. “We could lose him. We might not get a second chance.”

That was one risk.

“If we stay, and use her, she might not make it out.” Real concern edged that fear.

That was another risk. That fear would push them to take the hit for her and it wouldn’t be Grace we lost—or not her only.

“It’s your call.”

I didn’t snort, because after all that, it was still my call. Whether they agreed with me or not, they would follow my lead. That curbed some of the irritation and the anger souring my gut.

Another choice.

We had friends.

We had Doc.

“We get her out.” I didn’t like it. I didn’t like trusting her safety to someone else, but putting distance between us might bethe best thing. “We get her safe. Then we burn Reznik and the rest of those bastards to the ground. Quiet. Smart. Permanent.”

“She’s not going to like it.” As if I didn’t already know that.

“She doesn’t have to.” The simple fact was as long as she was secure, we could focus on the mission. Destroy this whole arm of it. Then we could work on finding her sister. “She just has to live through it.”

“And when she finds out we made the call without her?”

“She’ll forgive us.” I shrugged. She could forgive them. She had at almost every other step.

The skepticism in Lunchbox’s expression was almost laughable. “You think so?”

“No,” I told him, taking another long drink of my coffee. “But I’ll take that hit if it keeps her breathing.”

The creak of the door saved me from the sympathy in Lunchbox’s eyes. The light shuffle of steps was Grace.

She was perfect, and composed. Except for her eyes.

They were on fire.

Chapter

Twenty-One

GRACE

When I woke up it was still dark. Though I was alone, the spot where he’d slept was still warm. Stretching, I’d tried to ease the soreness between my legs and threading throughout the rest of me. I really did ache but in the very best of ways.

I lost track of how many hoursLegendand I spent in bed. Even when we took breaks or he went for food, he had me stay there. Asked me, really. At one point, he’d even encouraged me to take a bath and when he’d come back he had wine and a charcuterie board.

Delight had curved through me at the board with its bits of cheese, fruit, and jams. There were little crackers and hard bread. The wine was sweet, the cheese sharp, the fruit rich, and Legend sitting on the floor and feeding it to me while I bathed was heavenly.

“Just tonight,” he said. “You need a break from everything.” While that might not have convinced me, his long sigh of, “Fuck knows I need it,” had. So, we hid away in this room and after thebath, he took me back to bed. We’d nap, fuck, cuddle, fuck, and basically, just savor this little bubble of escape.

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