Brie’s heart was ready to explode at seeing Bastian. It was so much like when he’d stepped into the hut. Like then, his face was a mask of controlled emotion. And here she was, tied up.

She was clothed this time, but the silk blouse and pencil skirt hadn’t faired well in the last few hours. The whip had shredded the top, while the skirt had split along one side.

But there was Bastian, beautiful Bastian. Alive. Here. For her. Again. This time he had Kevlar and a rifle. He might not be in uniform, but he was geared up and ready to fight for her.

The needle pressed against her throat. If she moved her head forward, it would pierce the skin. “Send them away, Gabriella.” Nikolai’s voice was low, his head right behind hers in the middle of the V formed by the top half of the X as he ducked down to hide behind her.

She was terrified of the needle. Her battle with addiction hadn’t been won the first, the second, or even the fifth time she’d tried to go clean. It had taken years and multiple attempts and with one jab, she could be right back in the thick of it.

But one thing she knew, if Nikolai shot her up, she’d suffer, but she’d survive.

She could beat it, even if it meant crawling her way back.

Because that was what she did.

She was a master at starting over, and believed in herself now in a way she hadn’t when she’d tried and failed.

And this time, she wouldn’t be alone in her battle. Bastian would help her.

He’d hold her hand and love her.

She stared at his face. Protective glasses covered his eyes, but she could sense he was staring right back at her. He and the two SEALs with him held their rifles at the ready. They were just waiting for an opening.

She turned her eyes up and toward the right, directing his gaze to her hand, where she held up four fingers.

She took a deep breath and counted down with her fingers. At zero, she jerked her head forward, and the needle pierced her skin. She rammed backward with her head, a hard jab that probably landed on the bridge of Nikolai’s nose.

He dropped from the unexpected blow. Gunfire zinged between her spread legs, bullets from three rifles, pelting Nikolai in the legs. He dropped lower, and the bullets hit his chest.

She stood there, breathing heavily, syringe protruding from her neck. Her legs had turned to mush but the bindings on wrists and ankles prevented her from falling and catching a bullet. In a weird way, the St. Andrew’s Cross had saved her, keeping her out of the line of fire.

Her whole body shook as she watched the needle with her peripheral vision.

All three men lowered their rifles and charged into the room. The SEALs grabbed Nikolai, pulling him through the frame of the cross, between her legs, while Bastian came for her.

He gently removed the needle, set it aside, and probed her neck. “It wasn’t in a vein, and the plunger wasn’t pressed. If you got any, it was just a drop.” He leaned down and sucked on her neck as if he were removing venom.

He then swished his mouth with water from his hydration pack and spit it on the floor. He released her feet, then her hands, and caught her when she would’ve collapsed. He scooped her against him.

“I’ve got you, Brie. As soon as we get the all clear, I’m taking you to the Blackhawk.”

From the shouts of the SEALs, she gathered they were reporting in that they had her. Drugov was alive. Barely.

She buried her face against Bastian’s armored chest and breathed him in. Gunpowder, sweat, and Bastian. Tears returned to her eyes. “Thank you.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. Beautiful Bastian. She stroked his chin. “He told me you were dead. I didn’t believe him, but still, I was so scared I might’ve lost you.”

“I was sure I’d lost you.” His arms tightened around her.

“The last crew member has been rounded up,” one of the SEALs said. “And Lawiri is in custody.”

“Are you impounding this boat?” she asked.

“That will be for the Moroccan police to decide, ma’am,” the SEAL replied.

“You’re going to want to take any computers or USB drives you can find. Nikolai told me he has kompromat on my brother. If he has that here, there could be more. Plus he probably has information on his plans for Ebola-laced pads. This room is probably a treasure trove for intelligence.” She wondered if they’d also find kompromat on Uncle Al. It would be fitting if Nikolai’s actions brought the senator down as well.

The SEAL repeated her words into the radio, and she gathered that word came down from SOCOM to collect any digital media they could find. Like the bin Laden raid, they’d take what they could quickly grab and leave the rest behind. Morocco could decide what to do with the boat and the rest of its contents. Bastian carried her out through the double doors.

The midday sun was blinding and the ocean was a crisp blue.

How was it only noon? It felt like a lifetime ago that she and Bastian had shared a shower together.

Bastian reached the stairs that would take them to the upper deck, and she insisted on climbing the steep ship ladder herself. He cursed when he saw the stripes on her back from the whipping and the burn on her shoulder from the cigarette.

The moment they were on the upper deck, he scooped her up again. She protested, pointing out that she’d have to climb a rope ladder into the Blackhawk, but then she saw the litter they’d arranged to hoist her and Bastian together.

They’d just settled into the helicopter, where she sat facing out the side opening, her gaze fixed on nothing, when one of the men radioed the news that Nikolai had died.

The man who’d been obsessed with her since she was thirteen would never hurt her or anyone she loved again.