Brie’s phone rang the minute she was back in her room in the medical ward. It could only be Savvy—given that Savvy was the only one who had the number to her new phone. “I stuck to the agreement,” she said defensively.

“I don’t remember the line about Prime Energy having nothing to do with your work for USAID, but I don’t really give a crap about that,” Savvy said.

“Then why are you calling?”

“The doctor plans to release you tomorrow so you can finish your recuperation at Camp Citron.”

Brie frowned. The military base would be a welcome break—she could walk outside without having to get special permission to be on deck—but Savvy just wanted her at Camp Citron so she could pick her brain for intel. Brie had told her everything at least three times.

She wondered if Bastian was being released as well, but then, she’d been surprised he’d remained on the carrier, considering his concussion treatment seemed to be simply to rest. He didn’t need a massive aircraft carrier for that.

“Why Camp Citron? Why not just send me home?”

“Where would that be?” Savvy asked.

“Seattle, I guess.” The moment she said the words, another option occurred to her: she could go to the villa in Morocco. Her father had transferred the estate into a trust in his children’s names before he divorced her mom when she was fourteen—presumably to keep her mother from getting it—and then hid the paperwork so she and her brothers didn’t know they owned it.

Brie learned of the sketchy deal nearly a year and a half ago, when one of JJ’s lawyers contacted her about the property. The trust included a stipulation that the house and its contents could not be sold or dispersed without the consent of all three siblings, and JJ wanted to sell.

Brie had immediately killed that deal for no reason other than spite. It was ironic that the estate was worth at least seventy-five million, and Brie couldn’t tap any of that money. But she could live there.

The Casablanca villa was her favorite of all the family homes, partly because it was ridiculously over the top. A literal palace, fit for a princess. She’d spent the month of May there a year ago, a grand vacation before heading off to South Sudan in September.

“Seattle?” Savvy said. “Haven’t you had enough rain to last you?”

“At least the roads are paved in the Pacific Northwest.” She’d keep her Morocco plans to herself for now.

“Well, don’t get too excited because it’s going to take the State Department a few days to issue you a new passport. You’ll be stuck at Camp Citron until then.”

She should have known she wouldn’t escape Savvy’s brain picking that easily. “Fine,” she said without hiding her sigh.

“You’ve already been assigned a private wet CLU,” Savvy said.

The wet Containerized Living Units had an attached, shared bathroom. As if that was the worm that would entice her to bite. After living in South Sudan, she could handle a unit without a sink and toilet. Besides, the house in Morocco had twenty-two bathrooms. And two swimming pools—one an indoor Turkish bath, the other outside and surrounded by a lush garden. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and hit the End button.

She didn’t bother to wonder how the CIA knew her doctor’s orders before she did. The woman had taken undue interest in Brie, which meant she wanted something from her. But damn if Brie knew what it was. She’d told her everything she knew about the market. Three times.

Months ago, she’d filed a report on the market with USAID. The report had eventually landed in Savvy’s lap, and the woman had insisted Brie fly to Djibouti for a face-to-face briefing. Basically, Savvy had wanted to recruit Brie as an asset. Brie had shunned official involvement with the CIA—spying could harm USAID’s mission—but she’d agreed to share what she learned through non-covert, non-deceptive means. Now that the market was destroyed and her employment with USAID likely over, she didn’t see what use Savvy had for her.

Brie stepped out to the reception area, where a monitor was showing the ongoing ceremony on the deck to the staff stuck in the medical facility.

Bastian was in the background, behind the senator, just another face in the crowd. But not for her. Her eyes latched onto him and her stomach twisted.

Right now she was Oil Company Barbie except for the shoes. Barbie always wore high heels, but after being shot in the leg, high heels were out. Good riddance. She liked cute sandals with heels but had never been a fan of stilettos, especially after having to wear them five days a week for work.

The tire-tread sandals were a thousand times more comfortable and functional, even if they didn’t force her into a posture that made her ass look good.

“Is the senator as big an asshole as he sounds?” the hospital corpsman working the desk asked.

“He’s worse. Groped me when I was fifteen. Total creep.” It was freeing to just speak the truth. This not-hiding-her-past thing would be good for her.

He curled his lip. “Figures. Asshole. What is it with politicians?”

The corpsman was handsome, with rich, deep mahogany skin, a nice smile, and friendly manner. He took his job seriously, and if he judged her for being Princess Prime once upon a time, he didn’t show it.

The ceremony on the deck wound down, and she returned to her room, not eager to see Bastian again. Had she overreacted earlier?

Probably.

But damn. His words had come at her like a fist to the belly. She cared about his opinion of her more than anyone else in her life. Because she didn’t have anyone else in her life—no one who really knew her, anyway.

She grabbed the makeup bag and slipped into the shared lavatory. Head? What term was used on an aircraft carrier? She stared into the mirror holding the makeup remover in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

She studied the stranger in the mirror. She hadn’t looked like this since her month in Morocco, when she’d dated a wealthy Spaniard who moved in their neighborhood’s social circles, and she’d accompanied him to several parties.

Part of her missed it. She’d enjoyed feeling pretty and wearing nice clothes. Did that make her shallow?

Or just human?

She warmed the washcloth, but at the last moment, turned off the faucet. Screw it. She’d face Bastian as the woman he believed her to be. After all, Gabriella Prime was part of her too. If he couldn’t accept this part of her, then this thing between them was over before it started.

She looked down at her arm and the exposed track marks. No more secrets.

She pulled the lipstick from the bag and put on a fresh coat. At least she’d look pretty for the kiss-off.

Bastian waited inside Brie’s room. She might kick him out again, but he didn’t want to face her with the entire staff of the medical ward watching.

She entered the room and came to a dead stop. She frowned, then turned and closed the door behind her. She paused with her back to him, hand on the door, and took a deep breath. “If you’re here to insult me for looking like a Barbie, you can leave now.”

He stepped up behind her, not touching her, but still trapping her against the door. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with or without makeup. In a torn-up tobe or a designer dress. You’re smart and dedicated and kind and nothing like the woman I saw at that meeting ten years ago. I’m sorry for referring to you in that way. Sorry I hurt you.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a slow breath. “I might have overreacted.”

“No. I called you a shitty name I’d mentally given you ten years ago, which has nothing to do with the woman you are now.”

“And what if…I like dressing up sometimes? What if I’m both Brie and Gabriella?”

He placed a hand on the door and leaned to whisper in her ear. “You look fucking hot right now. I want to hike up your dress and bury myself inside you.”

She turned, her shoulder brushing his chest as she did so. With her back to the door, she leaned against it and looked up to meet his gaze.

A vibrant light lit her eyes. Her lashes were impossibly long, her lips a deep, full red.

“Apology accepted,” she said and pressed a hand to his chest. For a moment, he thought she was going to push him away, but then her hand curled around the buttons just below his collar and pulled him closer. “You look hot in your uniform, yet all I want to do is tear it off you.”

She kissed his neck, then moved upward to his lips. He took what she offered and slid his tongue in her mouth, telling her with slow, deep strokes how much he wanted her.

He scooped her up and braced her back to the door. Her skirt hiked up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips and let out a little pant as his erection pressed between her thighs. He held her in place with an arm under her ass, but pulled back to look into those luminous brown eyes. “Your leg? Does this hurt?”

Her lips trailed along his cheek; her teeth nipped at his chin. “A little, but it’s worth it.”

He dropped a kiss on her lips before lowering her to the floor again. “Anything that hurts you isn’t worth it to me. We’ll rain-check this.” It might kill him, but he could wait. They’d do this right.

She kissed his neck. “Rumor has it I’m being sprung tomorrow, although the doc hasn’t mentioned it to me yet.”

“Are you being sent to Camp Citron?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “Well then, we can continue this in my CLU. As second-in-command of my team, I have a single.” He kissed her brows, her cheek, her lips. He was eager to explore all of her with more privacy than the carrier hospital allowed.

“According to Savvy, so will I.” She played with the buttons on his ACU. “Savvy said it will take a few days for the State Department to issue me a new passport. I haven’t decided where I’m going to go once I’m free, but we can enjoy a fling before I disappear.”

He stiffened. “Disappear?” But what he really wanted to question was the fling part. His hands rested on her hips, and he pulled her closer to him.

“I have no intention of becoming a Prime Energy PR tool, so I’ll have to lay low.”

That made sense. His hands relaxed their grip. “I have an apartment near Fort Campbell. You’re welcome to use it.”

She smiled, but he couldn’t help but see the flicker of distress as she slipped from his arms and moved to the center of the room. “I thought…we were on the same page? I don’t do relationships, and neither do you.”

This was the first time he’d ever been on the receiving end of the relationship talk. And he didn’t like it. He cocked his head. “I also don’t get involved with women I meet on missions. Nothing is normal here.”

“True. I just…Right now is all I can handle.”

“Works for me.” Right this moment, he wanted Brie naked in his bed. Right now was all that mattered.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. He stepped back and said, “Come in.”

Brie’s eyes widened. “Wait—”

The door opened, and their doctor stepped in. She raised an eyebrow at Bastian, her eyes lit with curiosity. Then her nostrils flared, and he had the distinct feeling she was holding back a snicker. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, Chief Ford.” She turned to Brie. “Ms. Stewart, I’m here to discuss your discharge tomorrow.”

Brie covered her mouth, and a stifled laugh escaped. She cleared her throat, but he could still hear the laughter in her voice. “Glad to know I’m being sprung.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bastian said as he slipped through the open door.

“I’ll be in to see you next, Chief Ford,” the doctor said. “You’re also being released.” Then the doctor did snicker. “It’s good to see you’re feeling better, but keep in mind all strenuous activity should be avoided until symptoms abate.”

It wasn’t until he was back in his room and saw his reflection in a mirror that he understood why both Brie and the doctor had been laughing.

Deep red lipstick smeared his neck and cheek.

Bastian didn’t return to Brie’s room that evening, which was probably for the best considering the doctor’s dire warnings about strenuous activity exacerbating his concussion. She did say that Brie’s bullet wound was healing nicely, and, as long as she was careful, she didn’t see any issues from sex.

She’d fixed Brie with a knowing smile and said, “Just don’t get too creative.” She frowned and added, “And use a condom.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

The doctor laughed and said, “No. Just an advocate for safe sex.” She’d then left the room and returned with a box of condoms.

After that, a physical therapist had met with Brie and showed her exercises she needed to do to rebuild strength in the mending muscle.

She wasn’t ready for some of the moves yet, and a physical therapist on the base would check in with her in the coming days to guide her. For tonight, she was sore and tired. It had been a long and active day after being inactive for so long.

She crawled into her hospital bed, wishing Bastian would join her, even though the bed was too small and he snored. Even crappy sleep with Bastian was better than no Bastian.

Maybe she should reconsider her relationship ban.

Ahhh, but her situation was complicated, her family a wildcard. And now that she’d lost her anonymity, it was best to only think in the here and now.

A soft knock of warning was followed by Bastian slipping into her room and closing the door.

She turned on the light. “What’s up?”

He smiled. “Get dressed.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She winced as her foot touched the floor. Bastian was by her side in a second. “You’re hurting? We can skip this.”

“I’m fine. Just had PT tonight, so I’m sore.”

He waited in the hall while she changed. Ready, she stepped out of the room, and he offered his arm. She held him with one hand and her cane in the other as he led her out of her room, down the corridor, and out of the medical facility altogether.

“Is this even allowed?”

He grinned. “It is when you know the right people.” He led her to the ramp she’d used to reach the flight deck earlier in the day.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She paused as they neared the outer door. “The flight deck is restricted.”

“Relax. You won’t get in trouble.”

“But you will.”

“Sweetheart, I’m Special Forces.”

As if that answered everything.

But instead of leading her outside, he bypassed the exit and climbed a steep, narrow staircase she hadn’t noticed before. Bastian helped her as she took the stairs slowly. “You ever see a jet take off from an aircraft carrier at night?” he asked.

She laughed. “Pretty sure that’s a no.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and he pushed open a door that led to a small open platform that overlooked the flight deck. Before stepping outside, Bastian grabbed headphones that hung on hooks just inside the door.

She stepped outside, crossed to the railing, and looked down on the operations going on below. Wind whipped around them and a cacophony of sounds rose from the massive deck.

“These aren’t radios, ear protection only,” Bastian shouted to be heard over the noise. He placed the earmuffs over her ears. Unable to speak because of the noise and headphones, Bree held Bastian’s hand as the deck crew worked in a magnificent choreography.

A jet was moved into position. Takeoff was like an explosion she felt in her legs, her chest, her fingertips.

Her heart pounded with exhilaration. Who knew this could be such an adrenaline rush?

She turned to the man at her side and pulled his head down for a deep kiss.

After a long moment, he lifted his head. He leaned down and pulled aside her headphone and said with laughter in his voice, “Good thing I’m not in uniform. PDAs in uniform would get me in trouble.”

She pulled aside his ear protector. “But not sneaking me onto the observation deck during flight operations?”

He winked at her. “I cleared it with command.”

She grinned. “Badass Special Forces maverick is not so maverick after all?”

“But I’m still badass.”

She laughed and covered her ears again. Another jet was being positioned for takeoff.

They watched two more launches, then stepped back inside. After descending the stairs, Brie squeezed Bastian’s hand. “Thank you. That was cool.”

“It was for me too. I’m not on carriers often.”

They returned to the medical wing, and Bastian paused outside her door. “This is where we say good night.”

“You won’t…?”

“Good night, Brie.” He kissed her on the forehead and returned to his room.

Brie watched him go, then slipped into her room. She was too pumped to sleep, but with nothing else to do, she put on the scrubs she’d been wearing as pajamas earlier and crawled between the covers. Tomorrow would probably be a long day with transport to the base, and tonight’s PT had shown her how easily she tired.

She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the rush of the jet engine, the rumble of the deck under her feet. The jet took off into the starry night. And Bastian held her hand, his fingers entwined with hers.

She was wide-awake. And aroused.

She threw the bedcovers aside.

They’d been circling each other since their second night in South Sudan. She wanted him, and there was zero reason not to go for it now.

She paused. Except his concussion. The doctor seemed concerned. And his head had hurt this morning. But massage had helped. If his head was bothering him, she’d give him another massage and leave.

She pulled on a robe and slipped the box of condoms the doctor had given her into her pocket. Just in case. Cane in hand, she headed down the hall to Bastian’s room.