Page 66 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
Rone’s mouth quirked. “You make it hard not to.”
Her lips curved faintly, despite the fire in her shoulder.
He smiled this time; she almost forgot how much it hurt to breathe.
“And I do know you, but I plan on getting to know you even better.”
Isobel tried to speak, but the air scraped too dry in her throat. The room smelled of gunpowder, blood, and the acrid bite of burned electronics. Every breath sent knives through her chest.
“Help’s here,” Rone murmured, his voice low beside her ear.
Shapes moved around them—dark uniforms, helmets, the flash of medical patches. Hands reached for her, but Rone didn’t move aside until the medic’s voice broke through the fog.
“Let us in. She’s going into shock.”
Rone hesitated, then shifted, still keeping one hand on her arm as they cut her shirt open. Cold air hit her skin, followed by the sting of antiseptic.
“Through and through,” someone said. “Clean entry, shoulder only. Lucky.”
Lucky. The name scraped her raw. She turned her head, searching the room for him, but the space where he’d stood was empty—just the faint shimmer of glass dust where a window used to be.
The medic pressed gauze down hard, and she bit back a cry. Rone caught her hand, anchoring her through the pain. His thumb traced small, steady circles over her knuckles until the shaking eased.
“You still with me?” he asked.
“Barely.” Her lips trembled with a weak smile. “Told you I don’t disappoint easy.”
He huffed something like a laugh. “You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever met. As much as I admire that, I also wish you weren’t.”
“You wouldn’t respect me if I weren’t tough,” she teased.
Blake came up and took her other hand. “You did amazing.”
Lucky shouted from the corner. “They’ll find you. WITSEC can’t keep you safe.”
“Pocket,” she rasped to Rone.
She leaned so he could reach the back inner pocket of her leggings. The pain stole her breath, so she had to take a few shallow ones before she could get enough air to say anything. She wanted to shout it at Lucky, but all she managed was a rasp to Rone and Blake. “Grabbed it when I reached the laptop. That should help.”
Blake took the USB. “Thank you.”
“This doesn’t change anything. You’ll do the same thing next time you did this time, and the two times before that, and you’ll be dead.” Lucky glowered at Blake. “You can’t help yourself, you’ll sacrifice anything and everything to get your man, even if it’s the daughter of your best informant.”
A woman with slicked-back blonde hair in an FBI vest reached Blake and clapped him on the shoulder. “Not wrong, and we’re not done with Laurel Tide. We head for deep cover. No informants; we’re going in ourselves.”
If Isobel didn’t know better, there was a spark betweenthem. But she couldn’t tell if it was for the mission’s approval or each other.
“Where we headed?” A man came in who wasn’t short or tall, ball cap pulled down, but when he lifted it, she saw that little mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Al?” Isobel rasped.
“Looks like you folks been holding a fireworks show without me. Next time, I’ll bring the hot dogs.”
“You’re FBI?”
“Nah, I just play one on TV. They let me wear the jacket, though.”
No time to figure that out since they lifted her onto a stretcher, but she wanted to be clear with Rone, so she didn’t let his hand go until the last possible second. The lights overhead blurred as they carried her out, voices fading into static.
