Page 36 of Booker's Mission

Had he grunted? Growled? Callie wasn’t sure other than some deep, raspy sound had rumbled through his chest a moment before he turned — took her by the shoulders until she was staring up at him. Those gorgeous eyes searching hers.

He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the clearing. “The only way I’d ever say yes to that suggestion is if you’re standing here, telling me you know how to start our ride. Because there’s no way you’re being bait. And yeah, that’s what you meant, you just made it sound less risky. Like you could simply toss a stone or a stick, and they’d all chase after it like dogs.”

“Booker—”

“I realize we don’t have many options. In fact, we pretty much don’t have any. But I’m not going to sit in that chopper, playing with circuit breakers and rolling on the throttle, while you run off and get yourself shot a dozen times.”

“I’m not going to get shot.”

Booker scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The massive one she’d used as a pillow all night. That she wanted to trace with her fingers and tongue. “I’m sorry. I must have missed where you’d packed your golden lasso and bracelets. Or have you simplified to merely a cape, now?”

Callie frowned, copying his stance. “Seriously? I’m a DEA agent.”

“And there are a dozen, heavily armed assholes just waiting to put you, me, and anyone else who pops their head up, six feet under.”

“I’m not going to confront them, merely lead them away long enough for you to get our ride fully functional.”

“And when they start firing? Because we both know they’ll start firing.”

“I can run pretty damn fast.”

“Those scars on your rib cage suggest you can’t outrun a bullet.”

She huffed. “So, if you were the one being the distraction, would it be okay, then? Wouldyoube fast enough?”

The guy growled, again, then fisted his hands at his side, brows furrowed. Slashes of red creeping along his cheekbones. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and suggest this is because I’m a guy and you’re not. I’ve never treated you as anything other than an equal because you are. But neither of us are bulletproof. And no, Calliope, I can’t outrun a bullet, either, as a few of my scars can attest to.”

He blew out a harsh breath, then raked his fingers through his hair, spiking it up in every direction. “Have you stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, losing you would kill me? That it’s the one thing I wouldn’t be able to come back from, and trust me, sweetheart, I’m still fighting my way back from that wreckage. Still trying to find my worth when I know I’m the reason those men didn’t make it out of that helicopter, alive. That no matter what anyone says, or how many medals they give me for supposed bravery, I’ll never wash their blood off my hands. Never get that chance back to be the pilot they needed me to be.”

He rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes for a moment before holding up his head. Looking her dead in the eyes. “There’s got to be another option.”

He was waiting for her to say something. To answer, but all she could do was stand there and stare at him. Her heart thrashing inside her chest. Her pulse echoing in her ears. He’d been serious. Had all but told her that he loved her, and he’d said it as if it had been easy. Like talking about the weather. Or where they were going to go out for dinner.

And all that stuff about the accident…

She’d suspected he was still healing.Still dealing…But knowing he was just as deep into the darkness as she was — that he’d been faking it for the past year hoping no one noticed — screwed with her brain. The agent part that wanted to go in, guns blazing, despite the risk. That needed vengeance a bit more than she wanted to admit.

Booker frowned, reached for her, but she was already stepping into his space, palming his face, then kissing him. Not long and hard like she wanted. This wasn’t the time and definitely not the place. But she needed him to know she loved him, too.

He was still frowning when she eased back. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re you.” She took a healthy step back. “And because I love your sorry ass. And I’m counting on you to save mine.”

She grabbed their backpack, nodded, then took off, dodging his attempt at grabbing her, as she made a beeline for the other side of the clearing. Keeping tight to the trees as she circled the area, sticking to the deep shadows covering the forest. And with the sun already hidden behind the distant hills, there were plenty of places to hide.

Booker didn’t call her name. He couldn’t without bringing the entire contingency of mercenaries to his location, and the man wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t want to admit they needed a break, and since she couldn’t fly the helicopter…

He’d be mad. She knew it. But if her plan actually worked, she’d find a way to make it up to him. It might take a while, but since she wasn’t sure she’d even have a job to go back to, she’d have the time. She’d make the time.

There, up ahead. Two of Keith’s men standing amidst some trees. Each smoking a cigarette as they talked. Not even scanning the surrounding forest. Exactly what she needed to get the rest of their crew to leave the clearing long enough for Booker to reach the helicopter and get it started. Of course, it also meant she’d have to find a way to get out into the open for him to pick her up, but she could only deal with one crazy idea at a time.

She crept forward, careful not to step on any twigs as she closed the distance — got within fifty feet of them. What looked like the kind of tree she could climb without making a lot of noise. Or worse, falling. She checked the men, again, ensuring they were still talking, then grabbed a few bigger rocks and tucked them into the pack. A quick tightening of the straps, and she was ready to go.

It took her a few tries to get her feet to stick to the bark enough to heave herself up. Find any traction to climb higher. What she suspected Booker would have done without any kind of effort. Just a grab and a pull, and he would have been halfway to the top. Smiling down at her.

God, she hoped he’d forgive her. That he’d understand she needed to save him as fiercely as he needed to save her. That the thought of him dying in the process wasn’t something she’d come back from, either.

That she was stupid in love with him.

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