Page 63 of Play the Game

“Last one,” he said as he taped the purple wire in place.

And not a moment too soon. My shoulders spasmed, and I dropped my arms. He pulled me into a quick, tight hug, then tugged at the helmet and blast plate that was attached to his back.

“Put these on while you’re on your way out. Penn is in the van right out front.” He laid a cell phone on the floor and connected a keyboard to it with a cable.

As he typed furiously, I struggled into the protective gear, my aching muscles protesting the entire time, but I didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere until that thing is dead.” It might have been an unfortunate choice of words, but that’s what was going to happen: either it was going to die, or we were. “You might need an extra pair of hands or—”

“Stop arguing and let the man work, Sparks,” Penn said. “You’re both coming out of there in two minutes.”

I watched Jason work like I had a hundred times before, but the stakes had never been so dire.

“Pasco, I need that last code,” he said.

“Pasco?”

Jason was nodding, obviously hearing a channel I didn’t have. “You’re sure? I punched that in, but... Okay. Yes, it’s running. Would I fail to mention it if it wasn’t running?” He breathed out, nodded again, then said, “Fine.”

He’d been so engrossed I’d thought he’d forgotten about me until he set down his keyboard and pulled me awkwardly into his arms around our blast shields. “Now we wait.”

“Time’s up,” Penn said. “Sparks, Jensen, fall back.”

Jason released me. “You should go. I need to wait in case Pasco needs me to make an adjustment.”

“You’re both getting the hell out of there if I have to drag you!” Penn told us.

“I’m not leaving without you.” I pulled Jason back into my arms.

Above us, the front door slammed open, making us jump. Penn swore as he thundered down the basement steps.

Jason smiled. “Pasco, the program has four digits in place. Two to go.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Very good.” Jason held me tighter. “Five, Pasco.”

Penn dropped into the sub-basement with a thud and an “oof,” followed by a string of expletives, many of which didn’t make sense together.

“Six,” Jason whispered. He spun me around in his arms. “Holy fuck, Pasco, six digits locked!”

Something inside the bomb clicked, and the control panel went dark. Jason wooted, hurting my ear.

“That’s it? You did it?” I needed to hear the words.

“Wedid it.” He yanked off his helmet and blast shield, and I did the same. He tapped off both our comms, then pulled me close. “I love you, Tamela Sparks.”

“I love you, too, Jason Jensen.”

He scooped me up in his arms and pressed me against the brick wall, covering my mouth with his and kissing me until my insides melted.

“Fuck,” Penn muttered.

We pulled apart and turned in his direction. He stood in the room opening that was too small for him to squeeze through, panting and holding his ribs. But not on the side where he’d already broken three.

“This is your fault,” he snarled at Jensen. “Now get your asses out of there. We have a team that’s going to want to celebrate this clusterfuck.”

“Penn,” I said as we approached him, “about what you saw—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glared at Jensen. “But leave whatever it was out of the after-action report.”

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