“I have to take point on this.”
I nod. I’m afraid to open my mouth — afraid, if I do, I’ll beg him not to leave again. Not to leavemeagain.
He takes a stride toward me, a conflicted look on his face. “Evelson and Kaufman will stay here with you. We won’t be gone long.”
I nod again.
He takes another step closer. His voice goes low. “Hunt—”
Whatever he’s about to say never makes it out of his mouth, because Sykes walks back into the living room carrying two black kevlar vests. They look heavy, judging by the way her arm muscles are straining as she passes one to Conor and straps herself into the other.
My heart pounds a mad tattoo inside my chest as they prepare for the raid — loading up on ammo from the gun locker hidden inside the kitchen pantry, communicating back and forth with the tactical team at the Bureau. I’ve never felt more useless. I might as well be a piece of furniture; some decorative fruit bowl, sitting in the corner of the room with no purpose at all.
“SWAT is en route,” Sykes tells Conor, double checking the safety of her gun. “Ready to roll?”
“I’ll meet you at the car in two.”
She nods, waves at me, and disappears outside.
Alone in the kitchen with Conor, I suddenly don’t know where to look or what to say. Nothing is settled between us. In fact, after the kiss we shared earlier, things are more confusing than ever.
I’m not sure whether we’re friends or enemies, whether we still hate each other, whether anything from here on out will be different. The only thing I am sure of is… there’s an undeniable part of me that’s terrified by the prospect of him putting himself in danger.
Despite the heavy protective vest he’s wearing, despite the three guns I know he has strapped to various parts of his person…
I’m so unbelievably scared that if he walks out that door, he’ll never come back through it.
Inexplicably, I find myself wanting to cross the room to him. To close this frozen distance between us, wrap my arms around his waist, and beg him not to go.
But that would be absurd.
He’s a grown man. A badass FBI agent. The head of his division.
He can take care of himself.
He’s done this before.
He’ll be fine.
Still… no amount of reassurance is enough to stop the next words from popping out of my mouth.
“Tell me you’ll be careful.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “I’m always careful, Hunt.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I just…”
His brows lift. “What?”
“I don’t know how I’d handle any of this without you,” I admit in a whisper, my voice barely audible. “I… I need you here. I need you with me.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak… but his eyes are suddenly warm. So warm, they’re practically burning into mine as he stares at me from the threshold of the open door.
“Plus,” I add nervously. “If you don’t come back, who’s going to boss me around and do that death-glare thing when I start to ramble and call me by my last name in a very severe tone that would probably be intimidating under different circumstances, but sort of pales in comparison to the bad guys with guns running around, continually threatening my life?”
His lips tug up at one side. “Glad to know my services are appreciated.”
I try to smile back at him, but my lips aren’t cooperating. “Good luck out there.”