Gabriela’s heart sank.
There it was—the bottom line. A desk job. She ought to have anticipated this. She’d known she couldn’t return to Venezuela. What did she expect them to do?
She hid her disappointment. “I understand. Thank you.”
After that, it was just small talk—the weather, what the cafeteria was serving for lunch, the traffic caused by nearby road construction.
Gabriela thanked them and left the building. She made it to the car before the tears came.
* * *
Dylan parked at DIA,jogged inside the terminal, and glanced up at the Arrivals screen. Gabi’s plane had already landed.
Damned traffic. I-25 sucked.
He shot her a text message, told her he was here, then made his way to the lobby area to wait, anticipation thrumming in his veins.
It had been only eight days since he’d watched her walk away at the airport in Miami— just eight days—and it felt like a month. Though they’d spoken every night on the phone, it wasn’t enough. Any fears he’d had about his feelings for her fading with the danger and adrenaline were gone.
When she’d called yesterday and explained what had happened, he’d told her to get on a plane and come to Denver. Then he’d called Tower and asked for a private meeting. He understood that the Agency had their reasons for reprimanding her, but he didn’t give a damn. All they saw were words on a page. They hadn’t seen her in action. She didn’t have to put up with their bullshit.
The escalator brought a wave of humanity—but not Gabriela.
A grandmother whose grandkids ran to greet her. A soldier home on leave. Business travelers talking on their phones.
He was usually a patient man. As an assaulter and operative, he’d learned to wait. But he didn’t feel patient now.
Another full escalator.
His gaze moved over the throng, searching for her.
A hand slid up his spine. “Looking for someone?”
Dylan turned—and there she was, the sight of her sending a rush of pure happiness through him. “God, it’s good to see you.”
“I’ve missed you so much.” She looked beautiful and very professional in a gray pencil skirt and black blouse, strappy heels on her feet, a little makeup on her face.
He drew her close, smeared her lipstick with a kiss, the feel of her in his arms precious. “I’ve missed you. I can’t wait to get you naked.”
“I second that.”
Too bad they had a meeting with Tower first.
He drove her from DIA to Cobra HQ and parked in the secured underground garage. He gave her a tour of the building—the front hallway with its walls of polished stainless steel, the glass-walled conference rooms with their built-in blinds, the gym, the breakroom, the shooting range. Then he got her a bottle of water to help with the altitude and grabbed a cup of coffee for himself.
“We’ve got a full-time armorer who maintains our firearms, but his workshop is locked up for the weekend.”
“This is not at all what I was expecting. It’s so …classy.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Tower stood behind them.
He led them to his office and motioned for them to sit. “Here’s what concerns me about bringing you on board here at Cobra. You and Cruz became intimate on this mission. How does that play out down the line if you break up? Will you still be able to work effectively together, or will your personal drama put our operations at risk?”
That was the thing about Tower. He was always direct.
Gabi clearly wasn’t intimidated by him. “I understand your concern, sir. You can’t have staff bringing their baggage into the office or allowing their emotions to compromise their work. If you offer me a position and I accept, I will act professionally, no matter what’s going on in my private life.”
Tower’s expression gave away nothing. “And, you, Cruz. If Thor Isaksen walks in, and she decides she prefers the tall Norse god look to the Latin lover, how is that going to work for you?”