“Stella, I’m sorry I had to leave you.” Her mother’s hand inched across the table, close but not touching.

“And Dad and the boys.”

“All of you. I thought I could have this job, stay in the field, and have my family too. For a while it worked.” Her green eyes took on a faraway look. “Until my cover was blown and the only way I could ensure our family’s safety was to disappear.”

“I wanted to come with you.” Their fight at the mall came roaring back, the ache of abandonment. “Did you ever think of offering us the option to join you when you built your new life?”

“Even if I could have justified putting you at risk, your brothers were in college. And what would have happened if you said no? Once you knew I was alive, I would have placed you in danger for the rest of your life.” Her shoulders braced again. “I made the decision and you can be angry with me. Blame me. Hate me. But I will always believe I made the best possible choice under the worst possible circumstances. Think logically, think like the agent you are, sift through it, and you’ll come to the same conclusion.”

Her mother’s words made total sense in a heartbreaking way. Melanie Carson—Annie Johnson—had made her choice: the job. Her mother was the kind of agent she would never be, the kind she didn’t want to be.

Stella squeezed her eyes closed and… accepted.

“What do I call you?”

Her mother might have chosen the right course of action—logically. That didn’t mean Stella had to like it. Right or not, the decision hurt immeasurably.

“My name has been Annie Johnson for fourteen years. I don’t know who I will be after this.”

“Okay, then.” She shoved her chair from the table and walked to the door. Pausing without facing her mom, she said, “For what it’s worth, Annie, Melanie, whoever you are, I forgive you.”

Stella slipped out of the door past her mother’s Egyptian bodyguard and back to her final mission.

Chapter 15

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jose tugged off his combat boots. He and Stella had twenty minutes—tops—to change into more formal gear and get back to work security for the outdoor festival. Her head had to be reeling after the confrontation with her mother, but Stella had stayed silent during the bus ride from the airport to their quarters.

Not that he’d expected her to talk about it in front of his team and other operatives. And now that they were alone? She was still putting up walls, and he needed to get through to her before they launched this last phase of the mission. Especially when she’d made it so clear she was ready to be done.

Frustration simmered on so many levels. Somebody should have his head examined for planning an outdoor celebration in this volatile region. But he went where he was sent, carried out the assignments he was given. He didn’t know any other way to live. He was fast realizing he didn’t know how he could live without Stella in his life. These past days together again had to mean something to her too. Why couldn’t she recognize that?

He thumbed the buttons on his sweaty ABU—Airman Battle Uniform. He would change back into the same digital camo uniform, but a clean version with a bulletproof vest and his maroon beret. His role dictated he stand out as a security force. Stella, on the other hand, would be blending in.

She pinned her braid into a bun on the back of her head. She wore her standard black pants and tank top, her bulletproof vest, and a kanga resting beside her on a chair. He recognized that length of cloth well. He’d bought it for her on their last date.

God, how could they be so good together and so wrong for each other? But without a doubt, he couldn’t miss the sadness on her face. He pulled off his sweat-stained uniform and reached for a fresh set, tugging on his pants, his eyes never leaving her.

She reached for her Kevlar vest and stopped short. “Is there a problem?”

“Problem? Hell yes, there’s a problem.” He closed the two feet between them, taking the vest from her hand and tossing it aside. He cupped her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to walk away from you again.”

She blinked in surprise, then more of that sadness flooded her green eyes. “Maybe we were destined to fail from the start since we’re so different. You get along with everyone, and I don’t know how to be anyone’s friend.”

Surprise rocked him to his socks. “Why would you say that?”

“Forget about it.” She eased his hands down. “Could you please stop trying to be so nice? We can’t just pretend to be friends, or even just pick up where we left off. And I’m in a crummy place today after talking to my mother, too bad a mood to fake it.”

There she went putting up those walls again. “I know. And I want to be supportive.”

She tugged on her bulletproof vest like armor against him as well as the rest of the world. “The best thing you can do for me is to back away.”

He touched her shoulder.

She shrugged his hand aside. “You’re not listening to me. I. Need. Space.”

“Damn it, Stella, let me spell it out for you.” An image of her out there in the line of fire in her current unsteady state scared the shit out of him. “I care about you. I’m worried about you going in the line of fire in this mood. This region isn’t safe, so you don’t have the luxury of ‘space.’”

“You forget I’m a trained agent.” She strapped on her 9 mm for easy access and a right-hand draw.

“Lot of good that did when you got taken by warlords and had to call me to save your ass.”

“That’s not fair.”

Gut-twisting fear for her safety pushed him past the point of measuring his words. “Nothing that’s happened between us has been remotely fair. Our relationship feels like one big cosmic irony, a guy who never wants to get married falling for a woman craving a white picket fence and babies.”

“Don’t you dare mock me,” she said, standing toe to toe with him.

“Mock you? I’m trying to help you because I love you.” The words burned like raw alcohol in his gut. “You don’t seem to get it. You broke my heart. Not some flowery, romantic sob story. It’s messy and painful. Let me say it again, clearer. You broke my f**king heart.”

“Oh God, Jose, I’m sorry.” Her face softened and she swayed toward him. “You know that I love you too.”

“Fine.” Like that made a bit of difference.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you.” His laughter hurt. Hell, even his toenails hurt. “I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. My world made sense for the first time, and it felt good, so damn good to think past one day at a time. To think beyond just making it to the end of the day without taking a drink.”

Sighing, she clapped a hand over her face. “Jose, haven’t we torn each other up enough already?”

“Apparently not.”

She scrubbed her wrist over her eyes. “You know what I think?”

“It sure would be nice for you to tell me for a change, instead of making me guess.” Frustration chewed a fresh hole in his gut.

“Nice, love the sarcasm,” she said tightly. “Really helps maintain constructive lines of communication.”

“Constructive lines of communication?” His frustration reached the breaking point. “Could you just speak English?”

She sagged back against the wall next to a corny stock painting of an elephant. “I think you keep pushing me away because for some sad reason you seem to have decided no family is better than losing one again.”

Her words struck deep and true, but then that’s what happened with people who knew each other too well. “You’re one to talk with your expectations of a perfect family that doesn’t exist.”

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth, knowing they would cause her even more pain on a day that had already handed out too much. But he still believed every bit of it.

“You’re wrong,” she answered defiantly, snatching the kanga from the chair. “What about your friends from work and their wives? They’re happy and building great lives together.”

He didn’t even have to think. He already knew. “Give them time.”

Stella clutched the blue-and-green kanga to her chest and stared back at him with finality.

And pity.

“Jose, I really wish I’d had the chance to prove you wrong.” Turning her back on him, she wrapped the cloth around her, over her gun and vest.

The finality of her tone and the brace of her shoulders went beyond anger, beyond a regular fight. This was really it for her, and he knew it. They were over, no going back, no more making love or pretending they could keep living in limbo. There was nothing left for him but to keep her alive so she could go home and build that fantasy life with some other man.

***

One look at Annie, and Samir Al-Shennawi had a pretty good idea how the meeting with Stella went. He closed the door behind him, sealing him in the small interrogation room with Annie. He’d spent the past year reading every nuance of her face, both as her protector and as the man who loved her.

And today? He would have to continue as the man who protected her, here in a stark cubicle of a room at the airport. The agent in charge—Smith—wanted her tucked away until they had completed damage assessment. Meanwhile, Smith would keep things secure at the big shindig political dinner downtown.

He had his job keeping Annie safe here while the powers that be figured out where to relocate her.

Sam stopped alongside her. “Would you like to take a walk?”

Her wariness changed to surprise. “I thought I was under house arrest.”

“You are,” he confirmed, too aware of how she’d been keeping her distance. She may have told him everything, but she had still closed herself off from him. “But they need this space for questioning, and I found an unused office with an incredible view. I had food sent up for you. There is even a sofa if you need to rest.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “As if I have any choices these days.”

Neither of them did. He opened the door and gestured her through into the sparsely populated corridor. His hand rested over his weapon, his eyes tracking the length of the hallway. Transfers were always the most dangerous, even in a locked-down-tight facility. Four doors down, her room waited. Uniformed and armed military guards were stationed at every corner.

Those few steps seemed like miles as he escorted her past framed posters about touring historic Mogadishu. Her steps against tile seemed so dainty, so vulnerable. He understood she had training and could protect herself. During past missions, he had trusted female agents. But Annie wasn’t just any agent. After listening to her talk about her capture and what she’d endured, hearing her voice give life to facts he’d read…

He couldn’t let her out of his sight now. Maybe ever. Which made that emotional wall she had put up between them cursedly inconvenient.

A dozen steps later, he finally had her in the new room, one he’d chosen just for her to make this lockdown more bearable. During the past year, he’d made it his mission to learn everything about this fascinating woman. He knew she liked wide open spaces. Even at the school, she taught outdoors whenever possible.

So he’d picked this office with care. A wall of windows—bulletproof and tinted—overlooked the runway, but more importantly a distant view of the Indian Ocean.

She raced across the room and pressed her palms to the glass. Airport lights created a bubble of light in the dark night. Fireworks split the sky, just a few, more like amateur stuff before the big show at the end of the ceremonies later.

Her back rose and fell with deep breaths. “Thank you for bringing me here. I was about to scream from being stuck in that claustrophobic room.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But I’m guessing you knew that.”