Page 35 of Jason Bourne
The world outside—the hospital, the case, Harris’s men—it all vanished. There was only us. The burn of his hands. The heat of his mouth. The truth is that no matter what, the love we had for each other overpowered everything else. And now, we were done wasting time.
39
Lane
Iwas still breathless, leaning against the wall, Jason’s body pressed hard to mine, when the door banged open.
“Are you kidding me?”
Jason stiffened. I shoved off the wall, tugging my shirt straight. My sister stood in the doorway, eyes blazing, a file folder clutched in one hand.
“Zoe,” I giggled, but she cut me off.
“Of course. My baby sister’s supposed to be protecting this mountain, and I find her playing tonsil hockey in a supply closet.”
Jason’s lips twitched. “Nice to see you too, Zoe.”
She turned that glare on him, sharp enough to cut steel. “You. You’re lucky I don’t cuff you myself.”
I rolled my eyes. “You drove all the way up here just to interrupt my private life? Shut the door and leave us alone.”
“No.” Zoe stalked into the room, dropped the file on the counter with a loud smack. “I drove up here because Cal Harris isn’t just running a few scared girls out of a shack. He’s connected to something bigger, and I’m not letting you oranyone else get killed because you think you can handle this alone.”
Jason opened the folder, his eyes narrowing as he skimmed. “These are cartel connections.”
“Bingo.” Zoe crossed her arms, her expression fierce. “This isn’t just your mountain anymore, Lane. It’s mine too, until Harris is buried so deep he’ll never crawl out.”
For a moment, the three of us just stood there—me caught between the man I couldn’t let go of and the sister I could never stop loving, even when she drove me crazy.
Then Jason shut the file, looking straight at Zoe. “Fine. We’ll take him down. Together.”
Zoe arched a brow. “We?”
Jason’s smile was razor sharp. “Welcome to Frasier Mountain, Detective Brewer.”
40
Zoe
Iwasn’t on Frasier Mountain five minutes before he found me.
Forest Reed.
The last time we’d seen each other was when he’d guarded me like a shadow, his hands steady on my wrists as he cut me free. I’d sworn I’d never forget the look in his eyes—quiet, unshakable, like I wasn’t just another rescue.
He carried as if I didn’t weigh anything. Then he stayed at the hospital, even followed me home, and stayed until my people showed up.
And now here he was, leaning against the hospital wall like he owned it, arms folded, those dark eyes tracking me the second I walked by.
“Detective Brewer,” he said, voice low and rough.
I didn’t mean to stop. But I did. “Forest.”
His mouth curved like he knew exactly what I was trying not to remember. “We need to talk.”
“About the case?”
“No.”
