Page 28 of Over the Edge

He frowned. “I don’t have nightmares.”

“Huh. That’s not the way I hear it works. I’m told that, after a few years in the field, dreams that aren’t nightmares are the exception.”

She was correct, but she would find that out for herself down the road. After the kills mounted. The missions gone to hell. The teammates brought home in flag-draped boxes. She would, indeed, collect her own demons over time. No need to share his with her.

“Drink?” Anna asked, holding out a bottle of water to him.

“Thanks.” He took a long swig, letting the cool water wash away the remnants of his dream.

She settled in her seat, adjusting her neck pillow. Her eyes closed, and he took advantage of her unconsciousness to study her face for a long time. He never got tired of looking at her. The only things that kept him from being no-kidding intimidated by her looks were her practical mind and sharp humor. Those, he was at ease with. They fit her—fit him—as comfortably as a good pair of leather gloves, soft, yet tough, molding to his hand until he couldn’t tell where the glove ended and his fingers began.

Anna fit him.

Of course she does, dummy. You taught her to fit you. You’ve worked to synchronize perfectly with her for over a year.

It was hard to believe how well the women had integrated into the Reapers once the guys had relaxed and started treating them like part of the gang. Although, the idea of the other guys on the Reapers feeling this close to Anna bothered him. He wanted to believe that what he shared with her was special and different. Closer.

To his knowledge none of the other guys had succeeded in kissing her. Not for lack of the men speculating early on about what it would be like to hook up with each of the women.

Most of that talk had fallen away within a few weeks of the women arriving and starting to train, though. The men on Team Reaper had uniformly been impressed enough with the girls not to trash talk them anymore.

He liked working with her. Really liked it.

Too bad he wasn’t going to get a chance to run a bunch of missions with the ladies. He was interested to see just how much their presence changed what a SEAL team could do, particularly in urban settings where the women could run surveillance and infiltration operations.

As bad as he might feel about that, what he hadn’t confessed to anyone was the sense of relief he felt at his decision to go after Ken. Accepting this nearly impossible mission wasn’t about having a death wish exactly. But he did live with a strong sense of having dodged a bullet one time too many. His number had to be coming up any day, now. He would rather go out on his terms and not someone else’s.

But how in the hell was he supposed to put that into words Anna would understand? She was a baby operator at the very beginning of her career. She wouldn’t relate to the feeling of having run the long race, of being ready to cross the finish line. He’d never expected to outlive his Spec Ops career, and he felt the end of it approaching. He would lose a step on a younger guy, lose a millimeter of accuracy, his knife-edge sharpness would dull a bit.

He’d had the premonition on his very first mission a dozen years ago that he would die in the field, in a foreign land, alone. He’d even had a recurring dream that he would die trying to rescue a teammate.

And now, it was time.

He was just sad he’d found Anna at the end of his race. He would’ve liked to have more time with her.

But it wasn’t in the stars for them.

He had one last mission to accomplish. And then he was done. Out in a blaze of glory.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Anna was disappointed when Trevor waxed untalkative on the flight to London. But he was downright taciturn on the flight to Abu Dhabi. Enough to shake a girl’s confidence a little. She understood that he needed to gear up for the mission to come, but he was an experienced operator. Men like him could go from chilling out to mission ready in two seconds flat.

As they waited in a plush Abu Dhabi lounge to board their flight to Karaken, she finally lost her patience. She was engaging that man in conversation whether he liked it or not.

She opened with something likely to evoke a response out of him. “I have to warn you, Trevor. My family is likely to try to marry me off when I get to Zagistan.”

“To whom?” Trevor blurted.

“Probably someone they want to do business with.”

“Sounds…quaint.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Any-hoo, once I’m there, they’ll try to convince me to stay. Explain to me the virtues of cooking, cleaning, and making babies. Which are fine, of course. They’re just not what I choose. At least, not for now.”

“That would be a hell of a waste of your skill set.” He paused, then, “What does this have to do with me?”

“It’s entirely possible someone will decide to more or less take custody of me. One of the uncles or whoever styles himself the head of the family. I may need you to rescue me.”

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