Page 9 of Rescuing Aria
“Not quite like old times.” Jenny nudges him with her elbow. “I give the orders now, remember?”
“As if I could forget.” CJ laughs. “You remind me every chance you get.”
“Someone has to keep your ego in check.” Mac reaches for another beer. “Remember Bogotá? When you decided we should infiltrate that compound without backup?”
CJ winces. “That was?—”
“The worst call you ever made,” Jenny finishes. “We were pinned down for six hours.”
“And yet,” CJ raises his bottle, “we all made it out. With the intel. And the hostage.”
“Because I had a backup plan,” Jenny says smugly.
“You always do.” CJ’s voice carries genuine respect. “Why do you think I recommended you for Delta-One?”
Brett leans forward. “You never told us that part.”
“Some things are meant to stay between team leads,” CJ says, his eyes meeting Jenny’s in silent communication that speaks to years of partnership. “But tonight’s a night for truths, isn’t it?”
“Remember the extraction in Caracas?” Mac leans forward, elbows on his knees. “When CJ had to pose as a flamenco dancer?”
CJ groans. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”
“Some things are too good to stay buried.” Jenny’s eyes dance with mischief. “Especially the part where an arms dealer tried to seduce you.”
“Someone failed to mention in the intel briefing,” CJ says drily.
“Not my department.” Mac raises his hands in mock surrender. “Besides, you improvised beautifully.”
“That was the night I knew you’d be taking my job someday,” CJ tells Jenny, something like pride in his voice. “The way you stepped in when everything went sideways.”
“Only because you’d taught me how to think on my feet.” Jenny’s tone softens. “Delta team has always been more than just a tactical unit.”
“Family,” Blaze says simply, his arm draped around Ember’s shoulders.
“Speaking of family,” CJ turns to Aria, his expression warming. “It’s good to see you fitting in so well with this bunch of misfits. Not everyone can handle the Delta dynamic.”
“It’s—different,” Aria admits. “But in the best way.”
“We grow on you,” Mac says. “Like a fungus.”
“A highly trained, lethal fungus,” Brett adds.
Blaze keeps glancing at Ember with an intensity that makes my neck prickle with awareness. Something’s coming. During a lull in conversation, Blaze clears his throat, rising from his seat beside Ember. The sudden quiet draws everyone’s attention.
“I, uh—” Blaze rubs the back of his neck, uncharacteristically nervous. “Had something planned. A speech. But I’m just going to?—”
He drops to one knee in front of Ember, whose eyes widen. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“Ember,” Blaze says, his voice steady despite the emotion plain on his face. “You walked into my life, and somehow became the best part of it.”
From his pocket, he draws a small velvet box. The deck falls silent except for the crash of waves below and the soft catch of Ember’s breath.
“I had this made,” he continues, opening the box to reveal a ring that catches the candlelight. Golden veins run through the metal like Ryn’s kintsugi work—beauty created from broken pieces. “Because that’s what you did for me. Found the broken pieces and made them something beautiful.”
“Blaze—” Ember’s eyes shimmer with tears.
“I want to spend my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?”
