Chapter Nineteen #2
“I’m heading to the hospital to check on Sheriff Chase,” Noah said through the comms. “You all finish cleanup and head in for debrief. We’ll regroup once I know more.”
The rotors of his helicopter built into a low roar overhead, the wind whipping through the scene as he lifted off and veered toward town. Rena watched until the sound thinned to nothing but the hum of engines from the remaining cruisers.
Deputies were securing the last of the prisoners, loading them into transports under Team Two’s supervision. The road was a wreck of dust and scorched gravel, but for the first time that night, the air didn’t feel like it might split open.
“Load up,” Cal called out to them, and Garrett, Gage, and she all headed to the van. She was glad to get out of there. Glad to get started on the wrap-up.
When Cal finally steered their van back toward headquarters, the silence inside said everything words couldn’t.
They were exhausted. Alive. Barely running on adrenaline and grit.
Isla sat with her laptop balanced on her knees, fingers still moving even though her eyes were glassy from hours of strain.
Garrett stared out the window, and Rena could tell he was counting every second until they reached home base.
Crossfire Ops loomed into view like a dark fortress against the moonlight. Once they parked, everyone automatically fell into motion, back through the corridors, boots echoing on the polished floors, heading toward the briefing room to file their reports and face whatever came next.
Gage stopped just short of the door, and Rena barely had time to turn before his hand closed around her arm, pulling her into him. His vest brushed hers, and she felt the warmth of his body even through all the gear.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “You?”
“Getting there.” He hesitated, then let out a quiet breath, his gaze steady on hers. “You know, we make a damn good team.”
Rena arched an eyebrow. “You mean lucky?”
He shook his head, a small, certain smile tugging at his mouth. “Not lucky. Good. We see things coming, we move in sync, we kick the kind of ass that needs kicking. And we walk out breathing when the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.”
Her chest tightened at the truth of it. He wasn’t bragging, just stating it plain, like he was acknowledging the bond they’d built through blood, fire, and grit.
“Guess we do make a good team,” she admitted.
His smile deepened. “Yeah. And I don’t plan on letting that go anytime soon.”
Then he reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers—steady, sure—and for the first time that night, Rena felt the tight knot of adrenaline in her chest start to ease.
“For the record, I like having you in my bed,” he went on. His mouth curved. “Or your bed. Location’s flexible.”
Rena blinked, caught between laughter and surprise. “That supposed to be your version of romantic?”
He grinned, the corner of his mouth lifting in that half-smile that always undid her. “It’s my version of honest. I don’t want to walk away from this, Rena. Not after everything.”
Her chest tightened. Not fear, just the strange ache of something real taking shape in the middle of all the chaos. “We’ve never even been on a date,” she pointed out softly.
“Then I’ll fix that,” he said, without missing a beat.
And before she could respond, he kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.
It was warmth and exhaustion and promise all tangled together, the taste of dust and adrenaline fading into something steadier.
His hand cupped the back of her neck, and for the first time in days, she let herself stop thinking.
When he finally pulled back, their foreheads touched, breath mingling. The world outside the briefing room was still chaos waiting to be sorted. But here, in this narrow hallway, with the faint hum of Crossfire Ops all around them, everything felt solid again.
Rena’s heart was still thudding from that kiss when Gage’s smile curved again, less heat now, more warmth. Something that went straight through her defenses.
“So,” he said, brushing his thumb over her jaw, “how about a date?”
Her lips tilted. “You mean a real one? Not involving surveillance vans, explosions, or near-death experiences?”
“Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth kicking higher. “A real one. Dinner, maybe a movie.”
She couldn’t stop her smile. “Okay. One date.”
“One?” He shook his head. “Not nearly enough. I’m asking for seven. The first one to prove I can behave in public. The next six because I don’t want to wait that long between seeing you.”
Her laughter came quietly, the sound easing something deep inside her. “Seven dates, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said. His tone softened, the teasing fading into something steadier. “And after that—maybe a month or two, maybe less—I’m going to tell you I’m in love with you. How do you feel about that?”
Rena’s breath caught. For a second, the hallway, the lights, the hum of the base—all of it blurred. Only him, standing there with the dirt still on his boots, the faint bruising at his temple, and that look in his eyes that told her he meant every word.
“Why wait?” she asked.
He blinked. “What?”
“Why wait?” she repeated, stepping closer until their chests brushed. “Because I already know. I’m head over heels in love with you, Gage. And it’s not the pain or the stitches talking.”
For a beat, neither of them moved. Then his grin came slow, reverent, as if he’d been holding his breath for this. He framed her face in his hands and kissed her again, deeper, steadier, sealing it between them.
When he finally drew back, his voice was rough, barely a whisper. “Good. Because I love you too.”
Rena smiled, heart pounding as she looked up at him.
And when he kissed her again, the chaos, the war, the darkness outside, all of it fell away, leaving only the two of them and the quiet thrum of something fierce and right.
Yes, Rena thought as his arms closed around her. This—him, them—was the one fight she’d never walk away from.