No.
Skeet couldn’t move, his body still stunned.
And Chloe—she just looked at him, horror in her gaze.
Of course it had come to this. Him unable to protect her. Him watching someone he loved die.
Because, yes, he loved this woman.
Not the desperate attraction he’d been fighting. Not the so-called partnership that had grown between them. Love. Complete, terrifying, life-altering love for a woman who ran toward danger instead of away from it, who chose truth over safety, who believed in him and said with one look that... well, that she loved him back.
As long as he lived—please, let it be past this moment—he’d never forget the look she gave him as he stormed in.
She needed him. Her hero. And yeah, right then, he was all in, until the end.
And as if to press it home—“Please.” Her voice was barely audible over the storm, but it cut through him like a blade. “Let him go. I’m the one who started investigating. I’m the one who got him into this. Just... let him go.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than he’d intended, raw with everything he couldn’t say. He forced his voice gentler, his hands shaking with the effort of keeping them raised. “You’re not responsible for this.”
Rain plastered her blonde hair to her skull, strands escaping to frame her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked fragile and fierce all at once.Beautiful. Brave. Mine.
“I got you into this mess.” Tears mixed with rain on her face, silver tracks in the emergency lighting. “I should have said no back in Chiang Mai?—”
“I was in this the minute I saw you in that forest. The minute I knew someone was threatening you.” His voice dropped, thick with everything he’d been too afraid to say. Wind howled aroundthem, but this felt like the eye of the storm—quiet, sacred, essential. “I’m still in.”
Her expression shifted. Fear giving way to something steadier, stronger. The trembling in her hands eased, her breathing deepened.
Maybe trust. Complete, absolute trust in him to find a way out of this.
God, don’t let me fail her.
He staggered to his feet, his chest nearly imploding.
“How touching,” Volkov said. “Are you finished?”
His breath caught. “Volkov?—”
The man smiled at him, the gun hard against Chloe’s head.
The rain plastered her hair to her head, turning her eyes huge. But unafraid. She just stood there, her gaze in his.
Chloe.
The gunshot cracked through the storm. Sharp. Shattering his world.
“No!” He stumbled, then launched toward her, throwing himself at her, taking her down.
She landed on the deck with anoofand he rolled off her, checking her—no blood.In fact, she was scooching up—staring past him.
Volkov had staggered back against the door, his eyes wide.
Then he crumbled. His weapon clattered across the deck. Blood puddled beneath him, dark against the white deck, already diluting in the rain.
Skeet turned back to Chloe and then caught her as she threw herself into his arms.
Her hair was cool silk against his cheek, her body warm and solid and real in his arms. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
Okay, and yeah, his chest still hurt, but...aw,who cared?