Chapter 31
Hawk leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and jaw tight. Gunnar matches his demeanor at the table with his planted elbows and steepled fingers. I know an argument—or a lecture—is coming before it even starts, leaving me suddenly very jealous of Damon’s post outside Zahra’s hospital room.
“Something about her demand doesn’t sit right with me,” Hawk shares flatly. “Her request to meet with Maryam’s brother face-to-face… That’s the move of someone who knows they have leverage.”
“She has been bleeding herself dry, trying to protect this woman,” I snap back.
Gunnar exhales slowly through his nose. “Or it’s an innocent-looking doctor who has motives we aren’t aware of.”
I round on him, my shoulders squared and my chest puffing out. “You don’t fucking know her.”
“Neither do you,” Gunnar retorts calmly. “I know people. And I know that when someone’s positioning themselves between two dangerous forces, it’s rarely without motive.”
“Bullshit,” I fire back as heat floods my chest and burns up the back of my neck. “She’s not playing chess. She’s trying to keep people alive.”
Hawk’s gaze sharpens. “You’re too close to this.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah? No fucking shit.”
“This isn’t about you trusting her,” Hawk continues. “It’s about risk. The risk she is putting us all in. She wants to speak to the husband. Alone, if she could. That’s not normal.”
“She’s a surgeon,” I snarl. “She stares down death for a living. You think a weak-ass man who beats on women is going to scare her? She cares about this woman. Deeply.”
Gunnar twists in his chair. “Caring doesn’t preclude betrayal.”
I step forward before I realize I’m moving, my hands balling into fists at my sides, readying to place one on his jaw. “Careful, old man.”
Gunnar meets my stare without flinching. “You’re defending her like she’s fucking family.”
“Because she is,” I admit without hesitation. Or she’s going to be.
Hawk’s brow lifts slightly as Gunnar studies me, reassessing not just this situation but me. Gunnar’s tone is steadier when he speaks again. “You met her weeks ago.”
“And?” I shrug. “My dad proposed to my mom on their second date. They were married for twenty-seven years until she died. Time isn’t the measure. And just because you haven’t met anyone you’d instantly change your whole world for, doesn’t mean this isn’t real.”
Gunnar’s mouth twitches. “Low fucking blow.”
“You started it,” I grumble.
Hawk sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jagger, no one is saying she’s malicious. We’re saying we don’t know what her endgame is.”
“That doesn’t make her a threat.”
“No. It makes her unpredictable.”
Gunnar pushes to his feet. “You’re staking operational security for a woman who won’t tell us where the asset is.”
“She’s not an asset,” I snap. “She’s a woman and a mother.”
“And that mother’s existence has already gotten one of Blake’s colleagues nearly killed,” Gunnar counters.
“That wasn’t Blake’s fault.” I rake a hand through my hair, pacing before stopping short. “She’s not going to double-cross us. She doesn’t have it in her.”
“You don’t know that,” Hawk counters.
“I do,” I growl. “I know her.”
Gunnar tilts his head. “You want to know her.”
“Same damn thing.”
“No,” Gunnar says gently, and that somehow pisses me off more. “It’s not.”
I glare at him. “You’re not my commanding officer anymore.”
His nostrils flare slightly. “Still your elder.”
“Emphasis on elder.”
Hawk snorts despite himself. We go back and forth for what seems like an eternity.
Gunnar points a finger at me. “You think this is funny—”
“A little bit,” I interrupt. “I trust her. And after all our years together, I would think you two should trust my judgment.”
“Fine,” Hawk grumbles, realizing I’m not going to budge on this. “We proceed cautiously. You stay attached at the hip.”
“Wasn’t planning otherwise.”
I head upstairs before the conversation can circle back into something uglier, before I have to articulate the part of this they don’t understand. That protecting Blake isn’t a mission parameter. It’s a blurred line I’ve already hurdled, and I have no intention of turning back.
When I crack the door, soft light spills from the hall into the dark bedroom. Blake is already in bed, curled up on her side, facing the wall, hair fanned across the pillow. Her breathing is slow and deep, sleep hovering close but not quite claiming her.
I shut the door gently, then strip down to my boxers before sliding in behind her. She lets out a soft exhale as I let my presence register before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against my chest. She fits there like she was designed for it. Like she was made to be here with me.
I press my nose into her hair and breathe her in, asking quietly, “Did you hear us?”
“Yes,” she answers, honest and sleep-heavy. “Kind of hard not to.”
“Look at me?” I loosen my hold a little. She hesitates, then rolls over in my arms. Her eyes blink slowly as they adjust to focus on me in the near-dark. She looks exhausted, frayed at the edges, and bruised in places no one else can see.
I cradle her face gently. “I know you, Doc.” Her brow creases faintly. “I know you’re trying so hard to do the right thing. You’re trying to protect everyone. Make sure no one gets hurt.”
She nods once.
“But even when you do everything right,” I continue softly, “people still get hurt. Blake, I can’t protect you if I don’t know what you’re doing.”
She swallows hard.
“Be there,” she whispers. “Like you promised. Be my shield. While I’m being theirs.”
“Theirs?” I ask.
“Maryam and her baby,” she clarifies. “Someone has to protect them.”
I pull her back into my chest, holding her tight to me.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.” The tension in her shoulders relaxes a fraction as I brush my lips to her temple, then her cheek. “Daddy isn’t going anywhere.”
Not now.
Not after this.
Not ever.