Page 103 of Lost Hope

“Everyone,” Zara confirmed softly. She shot Maya a look that was far too knowing.

Maya’s lemonade suddenly needed her complete attention. The thought of working with him every day, planning ops, running missions ... Would the ache in her chest ever dull, or would it just get sharper with proximity?

“Look who’s corrupting my daughter now!” Her father’s voice carried over the music as Victoria dragged him onto the dance floor. For an old guy, he moved with surprising grace, his laughter younger than Maya had heard it in years.

“Hey.” Star nudged her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Maya managed a smile. “Just ... processing.”

Jack’s daughter raced past with his wife, strobe lights glinting off the matching plastic tiaras Kelli had somehow been talked into. Their laughter mixed with the bass line as Ethan transitioned into something with more edge. The dance floor filled, tactical operators and support staff moving with the same fluid coordination they brought to missions.

Maya recognized the moment for what it was—a glimpse of what her future could be. A team that functioned like family. Work that mattered. Everything she’d ever wanted in a career.

Everything except ...

The door opened, letting in a burst of cool air. Maya’s heart stuttered as she turned, already knowing who it would be.

53

MAYA AGAIN

The Hawaiian shirtshould have been ridiculous. It was obviously borrowed—probably from Christian, given the slightly tight shoulders—and clashed spectacularly with Ronan’s borrowed board shorts. But somehow the tourist-casual outfit looked like something that belonged on a magazine cover. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at his neck, and his easy stride showed no trace of his recent injuries.

Christian followed right behind him in an equally outrageous outfit.

A matching pair in more ways than one. The resemblance between the two seemed even stronger now. Same mouth. Same gorgeous eyes. Same over-the-top magnetism.

Maya downed the rest of her drink. This was exactly why joining Knight Tactical would be the worst kind of torture.

“Holy tactical beefcake,” Izzy muttered, earning an elbow from Zara. “What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

Ronan stopped to high-five Jack’s toddlers as they blazed past, then got waylaid by Griffin near the makeshift bar. Maya watched him laugh at something the boss said, his whole face lighting up in a way she’d rarely seen during their mission. He looked ... lighter. More at peace.

“So?” Izzy cocked her head, zeroing in on Maya with sniper precision. “You gonna join us at Knight Tactical or what?”

The words stuck in Maya’s throat. How could she explain that her dream job had somehow become complicated by a man who’d barely let her past his walls? That the thought of seeing him every day, watching him slowly heal and maybe eventually open his heart to someone else, felt like signing up for daily surgery without anesthesia?

“I ... need to think about it some more.”

Izzy and Zara exchanged a look that contained volumes. Then Zara wrapped her in a fierce hug that smelled like gunpowder and expensive perfume. “Men,” she said firmly, “are idiots.”

“Copy that,” Maya managed.

She felt the exact moment Ronan noticed their group. His stride hitched slightly as he approached, and that magnetic pull she’d been fighting since day one kicked in like a riptide. The others melted away with suspicious efficiency, leaving them in their own pocket of space despite the crowded room.

“You look ...” His eyes tracked over her borrowed dress, leaving heat in their wake. “Amazing.”

The word hung between them like smoke signals neither of them knew how to read.

The music faded with a deliberate slowness, and Maya watched Deke step onto a chair, his massive frame silhouetted against the twinkling lights. The room hushed without him having to say a word.

“Before we get too deep into celebrating,” Deke’s deep voice carried easily, touched with the gravel of emotion, “I’d like us to take a moment. For Marcus.”

The silence that followed felt sacred. Maya glanced at Ronan, standing close enough that she could feel the heat of him, yet hesomehow remained miles away. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were clear.

“Tank ...” Kenji started, then had to clear his throat. “Tank once told me the meaning of life was good barbecue and better friends. Then he corrected himself and said it was actually proper trigger discipline, but the barbecue thing was a close second.” Scattered laughter mixed with sniffs.

Others stepped forward, sharing pieces of Marcus. The way he’d volunteer for the worst watches so younger operators could sleep. His terrible jokes and worse singing and unfailing loyalty.

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