Page 122 of One Last Stand

“Seriously. Take your hand off me.”

A beat. Mitch lowered his hand. “Shep, this is bigger than you or your life in Alaska.”

“It doesn’t have to be!”

Mitch’s jaw tightened.

“She nearly died!”

“I know.”

“Shep?”

He looked up. She’d changed clothes, wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a black pullover, her hair back in a ponytail. No makeup, and even with the bruises and scrapes, she could still take his breath away.

In fact, he had to put his hand to the cool wall to keep his knees from buckling. Because clearly, she’d been crying.

He hadn’t expected that.

“Can we talk?”

She nodded, her arms folded. He glanced at Mitch, to his pursed lips and disapproving expression, and then followed her.

Hello,someoneneeded to watch out for her, because it seemed that Mitch only saw the Black Swan in her.

And maybe Shep needed to see thatmore, but frankly, he sawallof her. The teenager who’d refused to give in, the woman who’d survived with him in an avalanche, the pilot who saved lives, and the woman who could fight in a ball gown.

And he loved her. All of her, even the parts he didn’t recognize, the parts that stunned him, even scared him. That was the only thought that filled his brain, eclipsing all others as he followed her through the reception area to the inner office, the dining room where he’d eaten before.

He loved her, and he wouldn’t apologize for betraying her, and if he had to do it all over again?—

“You know millions might die.” She’d closed the double doors, then turned, met his eyes.

Oh.So maybe she hadn’t been crying over him.Still.“I didn’t wantyouto die.”

She drew in a long breath, then her mouth tightened and she nodded. “Yeah.” She walked over to the Steinway, sat down on the bench. Played a few of the keys with one hand.

“London?”

“I know you did what you thought was right.”

Words left him.

“I might have even made the same call for you.” She lifted her left hand, played a harmony. “But I would have been wrong.”

“No. Lives matter. People matter?—”

“Yes.” She met his gaze. “But I’d do anything to save my sister, or those people on the bus. Or in the subway station, or even the stadium in Paris years ago. Or how about 9/11, or any of the other attacks around the world? Aren’t they worth one life?—”

“Notyourlife!”Aw,he hadn’t meant to roar, and maybe he’d left the man he was behind on the mountain too, but—“Not the life of the woman I love.”

She took her hands off the keys. “London.”

“Yes.You,London.”

“What if I’m not?—”

“Don’t play that game. You can’t separate yourself into partitions. Sure, you had a life as a spy. It makes you clever and tough. And you are a diplomat’s daughter, so that makes you adaptable. And you are Delaney, the girl who wanted to be a princess, so that makes you an optimist and a dreamer—and frankly, we need more of those. And yes, you’re a rescue pilot too, so that makes you dependable and steady and the person we are all hoping will show up.” And now he’d gotten a hand around his thundering heartbeat, schooled his voice. “You can’t shut off any of those parts of you, London, because that is who you are. Who God made you to be?—”

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