“And he or she said what?”

She rubbed harder. “That word of the raid had leaked, and that the op was compromised.”

“But no info about how or where it was leaked?”

“No.”

Zane was quiet for a second and then said, “Ryder’s on his way here. He’s digging up info on Roberts so we can figure out how to play this.”

She dropped her hand, and her gaze snapped his direction. “Here?”

He pushed back from the table and took his plate into the kitchen. “I figure it’s time we brought in some help on this.”

Eve’s stomach rolled all over again. Did they need help? She wasn’t so sure. The only out she could see at this point was total surrender. “Carter was right. I need to call Langley and turn myself in.”

Zane’s plate clattered in the sink. “What?”

“You’ll have to turn yourself in too, but they’re not going to find any involvement in all of this on your part. You’ll be released in a couple of days.”

“Fuck that. They shot at me, Eve. At you too. They almost killed us, more than once. And one of them has a Chechen terrorist cell behind them. You think you’re safe at Langley? You’re not safe there. You’re not safe anywhere. Look at Carter. You’re not safe until we figure out who’s really behind this shit once and for all. You go there, and you’re dead.”

Dead.

Like Carter.

Like Natalie.

Like Olivia.

All because of me.

Eve closed her eyes, and a wave of nausea rolled through her belly.

Footsteps echoed across the floor. Then her chair jolted, and the legs scraped against the floor. “Open your eyes, dammit.”

She tore her eyes open, shocked to see Zane leaning over her, one hand resting against the back of her chair, which he’d obviously kicked away from the table. His gaze was as dark and intense as she’d ever seen it, and a fire brewed inside him, one that marked him as dangerous. As deadly. As a force not to be ignored.

“Don’t you fucking give up on me now. You want to be tired and sad. Fine. Be that way. But you’re not turning yourself in. Not after everything we’ve been through. People died out there today because of us. We owe them more than that.”

Her temper flared, and she knocked his hand away from her chair and stood. “People died because of me. Not because of you. Don’t tell me what we owe them. We don’t owe them shit.” Nausea rolled through her belly all over again. “I do.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed just a touch, and he straightened. “What happened out there today was not your fault.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and moved to the window, looking out at the darkening view. But that hollow feeling in her chest was growing bigger, more consuming, threatening to pull her under. “I don’t see anyone else in the middle of this nightmare. Only me.”

He stepped back, but from the corner of her eye, she watched a muscle in his jaw clench. “No, that’s right. It’s only you. Everything’s always about you. It’s your fault your sister was taken. It’s your fault Roberts set you up. It’s your fault Humbolt created that damn file in the first place. Hell, since we’re blaming you for shit, I’m sure it was your fault I was stationed in Beirut to begin with.”

He was talking to her like she was a child. Like she was an idiot. She glared hard over her shoulder. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” He held up both hands in surrender. “The great Evelyn Wolfe’s got it all figured out. She knows how to deal with this mess because, frankly, she started it all. So why don’t you do that, Eve. Why don’t you just worry about yourself and take care of everything on your own. God knows you’ve been doing it long enough. Should be second nature by now.”

The hurt mixed with sarcasm in his voice made her drop her arms and turn away from the window. “I told you to leave. I told you not to get involved in all of this. If you’d gone when I said, you could have explained your way out of this mess without too many consequences. I told you I didn’t need your help.”

“No, you never do.” His eyes hardened. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The fact you don’t want or need anyone’s help, not even mine. Well, you know what? That’s fine. You made your point, and I’m finally listening. Once Ryder gets here, I’m gone. It was my mistake for sticking with you and thinking you actually cared about someone other than yourself.”

He turned for the foyer, and Eve’s pulse picked up speed, followed by a sharp pinch in her chest that radiated pain all through her torso. He was leaving. Now. Because of what she’d said. Sweat broke out all over her skin, and a tiny voice in her head screamed, Stop him!

But instead of the front door opening and closing like she’d expected to hear, footsteps sounded on the curved staircase that led from the entry to the second floor, followed by a door slamming somewhere upstairs.

Hands shaking, she pulled out a chair and sat, then wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned forward in the hopes it would ease the ache growing in the pit of her stomach.

It didn’t help.

The sharp slap of rejection she’d seen in his eyes cut deeper than his words. He thought she didn’t care. He thought that all this time she’d been telling him to go because he meant nothing to her. He couldn’t possibly know he meant more to her than anyone ever had. She wouldn’t be able to survive his death too. Couldn’t he see that?

How would he?

That niggling voice in the back of her mind reminded her she’d never told him. That she’d barely admitted it to herself. That she had one chance now to do the right thing where he was concerned. She’d fucked up everything else, but this she could fix. Or at least, end. The right way. Which was something she should have done a long time ago.

But doing it . . .

Her stomach twisted tighter. Doing it meant watching everything he felt for her slowly wither and die.

19

“I think she’s coming around.”

Landon looked up at the nurse standing next to Olivia’s bed. Pushing out of the chair, he dropped the newspaper he’d been reading on the table at his side and took a small step forward. “Olivia?”

Machines beeped in the small hospital room. The nurse leaned over the frail woman under the thin blanket and said, “Come on, Olivia. Open your eyes.”

She’d been unconscious since Landon had brought her to the hospital. When he’d found her lying on the grass on the other side of that fence, completely out, he’d thought she was dead. And when he’d felt her pulse beneath her skin, his relief had been swift and consuming. Losing a hostage in the last seconds of a rescue mission was not an acceptable outcome for him. Though he’d never admit it, he totally understood and condoned Archer’s need for revenge after Humbolt had been killed.

Olivia turned her head slightly on the pillow and groaned. Landon’s pulse sped up as he waited.

“That’s it,” the nurse said. “Open up and say hello, why don’t you?”

Bruises covered her slim face and bony arms. Her hair was dirty and matted against her head, preventing him from knowing its true color. She was a tiny thing, maybe five four, if she was lucky, and a hundred and ten pounds max on a good day. But dehydrated and malnourished like she was, she’d weighed nearly nothing in his arms.

She hadn’t been raped. The doctors had assured him of that after they’d examined her when he’d brought her to the ER, but that was small consolation considering everything else. Remembering the way she’d had trouble standing when he’d tugged her to her feet, how frail her arms had been and how she’d barely been able to pull herself up that wall, part of him wished he could go back and shoot those fuckers who’d done this to her all over again.

“That’s it, Olivia,” the nurse cooed. “I’ve got some juice here for you. You like juice, don’t you? Everyone likes juice.”

Olivia’s eyes fluttered and finally opened, and when they did, Landon felt like someone had sucker punched him straight in the middle of the chest.

Green. Her eyes were a piercing emerald green. Not like Eve’s at all. As stunning as a highly polished precious stone.

“Welcome back,” the woman said to her. “I’m Carol, your nurse. And you recognize this guy, don’t you?”

Slowly, Olivia’s head rolled on the pillow, and those captivating eyes locked on his.

She stared at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. And as he studied the emptiness in her gaze, he realized she didn’t remember him. Probably hadn’t gotten a good enough look to recognize his face, not that his scarred mug was anything special to remember. But considering everything she’d been through, he didn’t want her to think he was one of those thugs and unleash another ear-piercing scream on the nurse like she’d done on him. Frail or not, the woman had lungs.

“Hey.” His voice was thick. Not his own. He cleared his throat. “Nice to see you’re finally awake. We were starting to worry.”

Those pretty eyes narrowed and held. After several seconds they widened in shock. “M-Miller?”

“Yeah.” Another burst of relief rippled through his veins. That she remembered him. That she knew his name. Relief he wasn’t used to feeling. He fought the urge to feel her hand sliding against his like he’d done when he’d pulled her free of that chain.

Which was . . . nowhere close to normal for him. She was a target, not anyone he knew personally. He shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans so he wouldn’t do something stupid. Like reach for her. “How do you feel?”

“I feel . . .” She pulled her gaze from his and slowly glanced around the white room. “Where am I?”