Page 115 of Beyond Protection
He didn't pull away. Just settled into the contact, the fingers of one hand weaving together with mine.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. This is okay."
Minutes passed. His breathing slowed.
"You should sleep," I said quietly.
"Can't."
"You're already halfway there."
"What if something happens—"
"Then I'll wake you. Promise."
He relaxed fully against me. His hand in mine, his head on my shoulder, and his breathing evening out into something that sounded like peace.
I stayed still. Kept watch. Not only the windows and doors. Mac, too. His breathing. How his face looked younger in sleep.
The Christmas tree kept blinking. Red. Green. Counting down.
December fourteenth. Two days until the raid. Four until December eighteenth.
I tightened my arm around Mac's shoulders. He made a slight sound—not quite waking—and settled deeper against me.
Whatever tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.
For now—his hand in mine, his breath evening out, his weight against my side—it was enough.
More than enough.
It was everything.
Chapter fifteen
Mac
Clairmont's office smelled like burnt coffee. The metal desk had scars at the corners where handcuffs had scraped over the years. I'd been sitting in a plastic chair for twenty minutes while Eamon stood behind me, radiating tension.
"Walk me through it again," I said.
Clairmont leaned back. Her chair groaned. "Pike Place Market, midday today. You shop, stay visible. We wire you, position plainclothes officers throughout, wait for contact."
"Bait," Eamon said. Voice flat.
"Controlled exposure." Clairmont pulled out surveillance photos—me at the Reserve Roastery, the ferry terminal, Ma's house. "She's been documenting his routine, building a narrative where she's the savior. If we give her an opening—"
"You're gambling with his life."
"I'm gambling we end this before December eighteenth. The raid team goes in tomorrow night at twenty-one hundred. But if we can draw her out earlier—"
"Then you have two chances," I said. "Market and cabin."
"Exactly."
Eamon moved beside my chair. "And if she sees through it?"
