Chapter 33
“That was fucking foolish, Doc.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, low and rough, hanging in the cramped backseat.
It isn’t what she needs to hear. I know right now she needs my comfort, but…
Fuck, that was foolish. None of us would have agreed to her meeting with Abrahim if we had even remotely fathomed what she was planning to do.
Blake doesn’t look at me. She’s sitting beside me, legs curled underneath her, and the rest of her body tucked firmly under my arm.
Her jaw is set in that way I have already learned all too well.
She’s thinking and preparing to dig her heels in.
When she does, nothing short of an earthquake is going to move her.
Up front, Hawk drives with both hands on the wheel, his gaze simultaneously fixed on the road before us and the rearview mirror, on alert for any possible threats.
Gunnar is in the passenger seat, phone glowing faintly, scrolling through something he’s definitely not reading.
For someone who usually has a lot of opinions when it comes to me, he’s pretending to be busy.
Or trying desperately to keep the peace.
Blake finally exhales through her nose. “Noted,” she says calmly, which somehow pisses me off more than if she’d snapped back at me. It’s the calm dismissal of a woman who believes her judgment is infallible. The same judgment that almost got her fucking killed today.
I wrap my arm over her shoulder and pull her into me, maybe a little too tightly.
“You don’t lead us into a situation like that blind,” I huff.
What she did was frivolous. Gambling with her life because she thought she knew what she was doing, and that she could read people.
“You don’t get to risk your life like that.
” My voice drops into a low, dangerous rumble meant only for her.
The guys up front are pointedly ignoring us, eyes fixed on the city streets.
They know this isn’t for them. This is for her.
Her body tenses, and she cranes her neck to look at me with a flash of fire in her eyes. “I had it under control.”
“Like hell you did,” I snarl, my patience snapping.
In one fluid, decisive movement, I unbuckle her seatbelt and drag her body across my lap.
She lets out a sharp gasp of surprise, her hands flying out to brace herself against the opposite door while I maneuver her until she’s draped face-down over my thighs—vulnerable and exposed—with her ass perfectly positioned.
“You don’t do reckless shit that might leave me without you,” I grit out, my voice shaking at the edges with the terror that’s been riding me since the moment Abrahim lunged at her.
I lift my hand and bring it down hard on the curve of her ass, the sound a sharp crack that fills the silence.
She jerks against me, a muffled cry escaping her lips.
“There are… consequences… for scaring… Daddy… like that,” I say hoarsely, my words punctuated by more stinging slaps through her pants. I’m not hurting her, not really, but I am trying to imprint the lesson on her so she never, ever forgets it.
After the sixth strike, her body goes limp against me, the fight draining out of her.
I hear a soft, hitching sob. I stop and rest my hand on the heated curve of her bottom.
Gently, I pull her up and shift her onto the seat beside me.
Her face is turned away, but I can see the glistening track of a tear on her cheek.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispers, her voice small and wrecked.
Her words undo me.
I reach out, wiping the tear away with my thumb. “I know, Doc,” I whisper against her forehead, my protective need replaced by a fierce desire to comfort her. I tuck her under my arm, pulling her close until her head rests against my chest. She comes willingly, curling into me.
Gunnar finally locks his phone and drops it onto his thigh, glancing at us through the gap between the seats. “Have we reached the end of the, um, corrective discussion? Or should those of us in the front seat keep pretending we didn’t hear it?”
“Discussion’s over. Your selective hearing can stand down, Dad. Though at your age, that issue might be permanent.”
The Jeep hums over a stretch of rough concrete as Hawk finds himself unable to contain his chuckle. “That was foolish,” he says, echoing me, his gaze falling on Blake in the rearview mirror. “How did you know?”
Blake’s gaze flicks forward to meet his. “I didn’t. Not for sure.” She pauses, then adds almost bitterly, “But it’s hard to believe her brother knew nothing about what was happening to her, considering how concerned he was about her disappearance.”
I lean back against the seat, my jaw tightening.
I don’t know how we missed it. Abrahim’s worry had appeared real, but selective.
He showed us the version of himself we wanted to see to feel good about the job we were doing.
He played us. That piece of shit doesn’t care in the slightest about the reality his sister has been living.
Gunnar turns halfway in his seat. “So, now what?”
The question sits there, thick and unavoidable.
“We get Maryam,” I say, firm and decisive.
Blake turns to me abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “No.”
“What?” the three of us confusedly ask in chorus, not quite registering her single word.
“I’m not telling anyone until I know, with certainty, she’ll be safe.” Blake sounds unwavering, almost impenetrable in her conviction.
“Blake—” I start, heat flaring under my skin, but she cuts me off with a look that stops me cold.
“I want her out of this country and a distant memory to her family.” The disdain in her tone twists my frustration and admiration together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye.
My irritation softened, though only slightly.
She’s infuriating. Stubborn. Maddening in ways that scrape against every instinct I have for control and contingency.
Her conviction isn’t just stubbornness. It is a shield, protecting the people she cares about.
And for all the frustration it causes me, I can’t help but respect it. And—God help me—I love her for it.
Gunnar exhales and shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. Hawk’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t argue. “I’ll call Reese. Maybe she hasn’t burned every connection she has in DC.”
Blake shifts to look at me, confusion written across her face. “Reese?”
“His wife,” I share as we pull into the safe house.
Inside, Hawk disappears to call Reese. When he finally returns, he fills us in on their call. “Reese is working on it. She is reaching out to some people to see if she can get an expedited humanitarian parole. Maybe refugee status.”
“English,” I grumble.
Hawk fights the urge to roll his eyes at me. “Whatever will get her into the US.”
“And then what?” Blake asks very matter-of-factly.
Hawk shrugs lightly. “We’ll figure that out.”
“We need to make sure she’s safe.”
“She will be,” I answer without hesitation.
“She can’t come back here,” Blake states firmly.
Hawk lets out a low chuckle. “Fuck. You’re going to get along great with Reese…”
I laugh, and Blake glances at me with an arched brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I smirk, twisting slightly toward her. “Let’s just say, the two of you might have to battle it out over who’s the most stubborn.”
“Stubborn?” she echoes, her voice light but daring, leaning toward me with a sliver of challenge in her tone and a teasing glint in her eyes.
I backpedal, raising my hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Maybe… maybe I exaggerated a little.”
“A little?”