Chapter 23
Aden, Yemen
Over the course of a day, Cove felt her strength return rapidly. It surprised her how quickly a body could recover from surgery, and even more—that she had run for miles with a bullet in her back.
“The running is probably what aggravated your injury,” said the woman who had been tending her. “Your spleen was pretty bruised and chewed up, but we did what we could.”
Cove eyed her. “You helped…did my surgery.”
“I assisted Mr. Wadi,” the woman confirmed. “Tariq has his doctoral degree and I’m a combat medic working on my doctoral as well.” She extended a slender hand. “Nora Glace.”
Cove shook her hand. “Cove Galtieri.”
“Oh, I know you. I followed your modeling career,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “One has to make up for being in tactical boots and kit somehow.”
Surprised yet again by this attractive woman, Cove could only gape.
“You could give any model I know a run for her money. To be a medic on top of it…” Beyond the small room where more cots were set up, she saw several men in black pants and shirts moving around.
Dillon was in there too. “So, you are a part of this…Omen?”
“Oh, not them,” Nora said softly as she switched out an empty IV fluid bag. She looked into the room. “The man in the tan-and-black tactical shirt is Tyson Chapel, and I’m on his team. We were in a nearby country for training, so Pike asked for our help.”
Unable to miss that Dillon sat, arms folded and positioned so he had a line of sight on her, Cove felt the fear of losing him stealing over her. He belonged with these people, these military types. She did not. This was not her world.
What is my world?
“Have you known him long?”
She eyed Nora. “I’m sorry?”
“Jacobs.”
“Who?”
“Dillon Jacobs—have you known him long?”
I did not even know his last name. The daunting realization made her sad, wonder if their different worlds were too different.
Only when Nora glanced down at her did Cove understand she had not yet answered.
“N–no, we…uh, we met”—somehow, saying she met him when he broke into her papà’s office felt like a betrayal because she could sense that tinge of annoyance in Nora regarding Dillon—“about a week ago.”
Had it really only been a week? It felt like months!
“Then you don’t know much about him,” Nora said, as if she had just proven a point.
It might be true that her knowledge of him was little, but she wanted to know more. Wanted to know everything. And it scared her to think that their paths might part. That he would leave her.
“I know what I need to know,” Cove said quietly, letting that still the brewing storm in her heart.
It sounded like Nora harrumphed.
“You do not like him.”
“I don’t like that he had no awareness of your injury, that you almost died because he drove you on and on…”
“I am pretty sure the shooters did that,” Cove said. “And how could he know?”
“He should know the signs—he’s an operator.”
“But he’s not an operator, not officially. And should I not know the signs? It is my body.” Her heart pounded, anger stirring at this woman’s accusations. “You may think I do not know him much, but you do not know him at all. He wanted me to stay behind so I would be safe. I refused.”
Nora crouched at her bedside and set her hand over Cove’s. “I am sorry. Clearly there are strong feelings involved. I have…seen many bad things done to women by ruthless men.”
“He may be ruthless toward the enemy, but he has never been ruthless to me.”
A flicker of relief seemed to wash the apprehension from Nora’s pale features. “I am glad to hear that. I really wanted to hurt him when we got you in and saw how close you were to death.”
Cove started. “I was?”
“Any longer and it might have been too late. That’s why I was so upset with him.” She managed a smile. “You ready for another walk around the room?”
With a nod, Cove drew her legs to the side of the bed, feeling the pinch of the bandage taped to her side. As Nora hovered before her, she came to her feet. Waited as dizziness washed in, then out.
“You good?”
“Yes.” Cove slowly made her circuit around the room, glad that her body was managing this time much better than last.
From the front room came heated, angry words. She stilled, breath backing into her throat. “That is Dillon…”
A second later, he entered the room, his dark eyes roiling with some heavy storm that seemed to vanish when he saw her. “You’re walking again.”
Unsure what that dark look had been about, she smiled. Loved how his expression so noticeably changed because of her. “I am, though I would probably classify this as staggering.”
“You’re vertical and trying—that’s what counts.”
Nora waved him over. “Stay with her. I need to do something.”
Eyebrows lifting in surprise, Dillon did not wait long. He joined her, and once Nora was gone, he muttered, “I didn’t think she liked me.”
“She said I was near death.”
He winced. “Yeah…”
She eyed him, noting the stress lines around his eyes and lips. “I am okay, Dillon.”
“No thanks to me,” he muttered, tilting his head to indicate for her to keep moving.
“Hey.” She turned and caught his arm. “I see in those beautiful, dark eyes the blame you put on yourself, but please—do not. Even I did not know what happened. I thought my back ached from Greece, when I crashed into the wall. And that abaya was so hot while I was running, I thought I was sweating. I had no idea it was blood.”
“I should’ve seen the signs. It’s—”
“Stop.” Cove pressed a finger to his lips. “Please.” Aware of the audience they had, she lowered her hand. “I am going to be okay.”
“I nearly lost you…”
Touched at the very real, visceral pain in his words, she smiled. “They do not call me Lupina for nothing.”
Torment wrung his brows and gaze. “What can I do? How can I make this up to you?”
She sagged beneath his self-condemnation. “This is not your fault. I have never and will never hold this against you. We had a deal, Dillon—to find our fathers. That is all I want.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “Me too.” He turned and slid a hand to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cove. I hate that you got hurt. That you—”
“New deal.” She shrugged to trap his hand between her jaw and shoulder. “You cannot mention this anymore as we finish this search for our papàs. Yes?”
“I’m not sure I could ever tell you ‘no’ again.”
“Mm, I think I like the sound of that.” Giddy at his words, at his weighted expression, Cove felt her belly squirming beneath his prowling gaze that took her in.
The intensity of it proved powerful, drawing her in like some forceful vortex.
She gave him a coy smile, not sure what the roiling potency of his gaze meant.
Why he seemed so…attentive. Was he still feeling guilty for her getting shot?
That had been all over his handsome face earlier, but this seemed… different.
Her legs trembled. Or was that her heart? “I think I need to sit.”
He guided her to a chair and helped her ease into it, mindful of the bandages.
Dillon perched on the edge of her medical bed. Held her hands. “I…I’m not sure I can forgive myself—”
“Nope.” She touched his face, feeling the prickle of his stubble beneath her palm. “You can’t talk about that, remember?”
Looking miserable, he peered up at her. “I…I don’t know what…” He hung his head.
She wanted to hug him. Go into his arms, but they had many witnesses and she was too weak to move again.
So she set her hands on his shorn head. This time, it was her turn to cup his face.
“You saved me, Dillon.” When he started to object, she gave him a warning look.
“I have never felt as alive or as…right as I have since you stormed into my life.”
His dark brown eyes flicked over her face. Uncertainty wreaked havoc on his expression and the words she desperately wanted to speak.
She had nothing to lose—she had, after all, nearly died. She couldn’t risk that happening without saying this. “I cannot imagine my life without you.”
His brows knotted and he seemed tormented. “Cove…”
With an airy laugh, she set her forehead to his. “I know…” It was crazy, wonderful, magical, being this near to him. “We’ve only known each other a week.”
“Six days, thirteen hours, forty-five minutes.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Give or take five.”
Surprised that he knew the exact count, she started to say something, but then closed her mouth.
“And if you count Paris, add five months, twenty-eight days to that.”
Her eyebrows lifted on their own. Heady realization swam through her chest, thickening her arteries, making it harder for her heart to pump. He counted the days… Knew them. Then had…he felt the same?
“I don’t know what comes after this…”
Still dumbstruck, Cove couldn’t think, thrilled that he knew the number of days. That could only be possible because he liked her. She recalled him telling her in Mykonos that he wanted to come back for her. What did—
He shifted closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I’m falling for you, Gelato.”
Breath snatched, she glanced at his lips. No, no, this wasn’t the time for a kiss.
“Correction,” he said, angling to catch her mouth. “Already fell.” He teased her lips with a kiss. “Just…” Another light, taunting kiss. “Don’t hate me. Remember this. Okay?” He let the next kiss linger. “My promise.”
A throat cleared behind them.
Having trouble shifting her brain back to reality, Cove felt this weird twinge. A…warning. “I would never hate you,” she breathed.
“Good.” Dillon smirked at her, drawing back. He tilted his head toward the intruder, but didn’t look there. “Dante, meet Cove. Cove, Dante.”
The tall, athletic man shifted closer. “Pike wants you.”
Dillon eased up and stole another kiss. “Keep her company. Anyone hurts her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“That include you?”
“Not cool, Dante.” Dillon strode past him.