Page 61 of Forbidden Access

He looked at the sparkle in Thorn’s eyes, and his chest tightened. What if the same thing happened again? What if he were gunned down in front of her?

He couldn’t do that to her again.

Damian exhaled, then gave a stiff nod. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

She shot him a quizzical look, then kissed him on the lips. He held her for a fraction longer than necessary, savoring the moment. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

It was nearly noon when they set off for the airstrip. They packed the bare minimum, only what they could fit into a small bag that Thorn would carry on her back since he was driving.

The road was bumpy, and she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, as they sped down the dusty road on the Yamaha. The engine roared beneath them, a constant, growling reminder of where they were going and the danger that lay ahead.

Damian narrowed his eyes as the wind whipped past, tugging at their hair and forcing them to lean into each curve of the winding road that cut through the barren landscape.

Thorn's arms tightened around his waist as the road grew rougher, and he tried unsuccessfully to ignore the ache in his chest. Despite the urgency of their journey, part of him wanted to slow down, to stretch out these last few moments together before they were thrust back into the chaos of the world he was trying to escape.

Nothing in his future was certain. For a man who thrived on control, that was maddening. The only thing he was certain of was Thorn’s feelings for him. She’d proved it over and over again in the last few days. It was in the way she smiled at him, the way she snuggled into him at night after their lovemaking, still aglow from the last orgasm he’d given her. The way she held his hand when there was no reason to.

Fuck. He’d never had that before.

Never even thought it possible.

He’d closed that side off after Rebecca had left, and somehow the prickly woman he’d been assigned had broken through all that and torn open his soul.

He snorted as he thought about their fake marriage and how far they’d come. The safe room, the drone, the Mexican hotel, and their mad escape over the mountain to the farmhouse—a lifetime of chaos squeezed into one week.

Even now, he could feel her heart beating through his back as they flew down the dusty road.

They passed through a small, dilapidated village—little more than a handful of crumbling buildings and a few stray dogs that didn’t bother chasing after them.

The village gave way to open fields, the air growing cooler as the sun dipped below the horizon. The dirt road became more treacherous, riddled with potholes and strewn with debris. It wasn’t a problem; he was used to riding and navigated the obstacles with ease.

The landscape around them grew increasingly desolate, the only signs of life the occasional flicker of movement in the brush—a stray coyote or a vulture perched high on a rock. Thorn’s grip on him never faltered, which helped to still the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

Somehow, he had to survive. He had something to live for now. Someone.

Finally, he could see a future with Thorn, and it was bright. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both knew it was a possibility. Something to be explored after the conference. After this madness was over.

He didn’t want to lose that.

Hell, he didn’t want her to lose that.

Finally, as the last sliver of sun disappeared, they crested a small hill and spotted the airstrip in the distance. It was little more than a cracked strip of asphalt, bordered by rusted chain-link fencing—the remnants of its former life as a smuggler’s runway.

A single small plane sat at the far end, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky.

Damian slowed the bike as they approached. This was it.

Once they boarded that plane, their time together was over. For now.

The sound of the Yamaha’s engine echoed in the stillness as they rolled to a stop near the plane. Damian cut the engine, the sudden silence jarring after the constant roar of the ride.

Thorn slid off the bike first, her feet hitting the ground with a soft crunch. She stretched, working out the tension from the ride, then turned to face him.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they just looked at each other.

“This is it,” she whispered, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

He wanted to say something, to reassure her, to promise that everything would be okay, but the words died in his throat.

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