They were flown to a US Navy ship at Naval Station Rota, where a doctor examined Brie’s injuries while Bastian was debriefed. Her wounds were cleaned, and she refused all painkillers stronger than ibuprofen. She had ugly bruises on her back, throat, and cheeks to go with the burn on her shoulder and stripes from the whip. The cuts on her wrist from trying to escape the cuffs weren’t deep, thankfully. She was told she should expect to be sore for several days, but there shouldn’t be any complications in her recovery as long as her wounds didn’t get infected.

A young woman sailor led her from the medical facility to the room where Bastian and the SEAL team were answering questions. She took her place at the table and repeated everything Nikolai had told her about the shipment of Ebola-laced underwear.

All UN camps in South Sudan had been notified not to accept any shipments of supplies until they could be searched by a hazmat team—something that would likely delay food distribution for a large population already suffering.

The debriefing lasted for hours, during which time Brie learned that her brother and the guards had all been rounded up at the chemical lab by Casablanca police officers, who’d been called by the US military. No one knew whom Nikolai had spoken with when she arrived on his yacht, but it was likely a Russian contact who knew nothing about the arrests at the lab. It appeared Nikolai had lied about Bastian’s death simply to strip Brie of hope.

Brie also learned that Russian news carried a story of a Russian politician very publicly succumbing to poison during his daughter’s wedding reception. Brie didn’t know if it was more Game of Thrones or The Godfather, but odds were, the dead man had ordered the hit on Nikolai, leading to questions as to the identity of the mysterious Ivan.

Bastian questioned Ivan’s loyalty to the Kremlin, suggesting that the US could have an ally in the GRU—if that was what the man was—and it might not be in America’s best interest to vigorously pursue his identity. It was agreed to limit inquiries with Kremlin sources. No one wished to expose how Ivan had aided Bastian and Brie. Questions were likely to get the man killed.

Nikolai’s guards were arrested, but until they had evidence of JJ’s complicity with Nikolai, there were no grounds to detain him. He was expected to return to the Prime family’s villa once he was released.

The RFID chip was retrieved from Armando’s severed hand, and Moroccan police, FBI, and Interpol would likely work together to get access to the data recorded in the lab system for all the RFID chips with access to the basement part of the facility. With that data they could determine how many scientists had worked in the secret lab. Identifying the scientists should be easy—they’d either have the RFID chip still implanted, or a deep cut from removing it.

After much back and forth, it was decided that Bastian and Brie would be flown back to Camp Citron, where Brie could recover for the next several days and be available for questions. The FBI would be brought in to examine the electronic data collected from Nikolai’s boat in hopes they could find evidence to arrest JJ—before he fled to Russia.

It was late that evening when they boarded a military jet and departed Spain for Djibouti, accompanied by several Delta Force operators who would be working with Savvy on unraveling the mess that was South Sudan.

The flight would take eight hours. Exhausted, Brie leaned against Bastian as the jet took off. She closed her eyes and thought of her brothers. She’d had a brief conversation with Rafe, in which she told him what Drugov had said. It only felt fair to warn him that JJ had planned to have the oligarch kill Rafe so JJ could take over the business.

Rafe was skeptical, but he promised to be cautious. He’d just received word that their father had taken a turn for the worse, and he intended to fly back to the US the following day.

The timing of the turn in Jeffery Senior’s condition only confirmed Nikolai’s words for Brie. One thing about Nikolai, he was sick and vicious and deeply rotten, but he generally spoke the truth.

Deep down, she believed Rafe wasn’t complicit with JJ, and she hoped to have a chance to reconcile with him and be siblings, but she would never work for Prime Energy again.

Bastian draped an arm around her. “How’s the pain?” he asked.

“I think every part of me aches, but it’s manageable.” Her voice held a slight rasp. She was warned to watch for signs of swelling in her throat increasing, and one of the men flying with them was a medic who’d been briefed on her condition.

Bastian’s lips touched her forehead. “It’s a long flight. You should sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Try. For me?”

She smiled up at him, this man who’d come after her and helped save her from torture that would have resulted in an agonizing death. She’d been told he watched the cargo plane explode, believing she’d been aboard, and could only imagine how awful that had been for him, given how much it had hurt to be told he was dead.

She, at least, had reason to doubt Nikolai’s words.

“I love you,” she whispered, aching for the blows he’d taken. All because of her. Because Nikolai had been obsessed with her since she was a child. How many people had been harmed because of one man’s depraved fixation?

Had the cosmetic ads been the cause, or the result? She hadn’t known Nikolai’s father owned Carabella. Had she been offered the gig because Nikolai had wanted to see her vamping for a camera? But none of that mattered now.

Instead, she had the horror of knowing the slave market had formed in part because of her—that it served other goals of Nikolai’s was merely a bonus for him. The food destruction would kill hundreds in the famine. Again, it served Nikolai and Lawiri’s other goals, but the facility had been selected because of her.

And if they couldn’t locate the Ebola-laced pads, thousands could die. What if they weren’t going to South Sudan? What if Nikolai had shipped them elsewhere to bide his time? What if they couldn’t find them? There was a lot of territory between Morocco and South Sudan. One truck wouldn’t be hard to hide.

“I love you too,” Bastian said, smoothing her furrowed brow with an index finger.

She closed her eyes again and was pelted with images from their nightmarish day. She shoved those aside and instead chose to focus on the previous night, when they’d made love in the hammam. For a few hours, they’d escaped into each other and the world had been perfect. And it would be again. She had to believe that.

Fifty-six hours later, word came down that the truck had been located in Nigeria. Bastian was in the gym working out with several of the guys on his team when Savvy came charging in to share the news. Bastian abandoned his workout to tell Brie, who was still asleep in her CLU.

He let himself in and paused to stare at her as she slept. The bruises on her face and neck had gotten worse and were now in the purple-fading-to-green stage. But no amount of bruising and swelling would diminish her beauty to him. She could be Brie Stewart or Princess Prime and he didn’t care, because no matter what she wore on the outside, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known on the inside.

Her dedication to her work was only one thing he loved about her. He was also pretty crazy about the way she faced challenges, owned her past, and was passionate about making the world a better place for those in desperate need, no matter the risk to herself. And the way he felt when he was with her… He imagined it was similar to a drug high but without the steep price.

He sat on the cot beside her and leaned down to kiss her lips. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna,” she murmured without opening her eyes, but she smiled.

He kissed her neck, her lips, her cheek. “You sure?”

She let out a soft purr. “Well, maybe.” She opened one eye, then glanced at the clock. “It’s not even seven yet. What are you doing here? I thought you were working out with your team this morning?”

“I was. But Savvy interrupted us with news I thought you’d want to hear. A UN team found the truck.”

Brie sat up, both eyes open, fully awake now. “They did? And the pads weren’t distributed yet?”

“Everything is sealed tight. They found it in Nigeria as it was crossing into Chad. The team collected samples, which are being sent to the CDC for testing.” There was still hope that the scientists had lied to Drugov about their success in bioengineering the virus, and Russia didn’t have weaponized Ebola in their arsenal. “But out of caution, they’re moving the truck to a remote area, where they will remove, then burn the contents.”

She threw her arms around Bastian’s shoulders. “I’m so relieved.”

He held her against him, breathing in her scent. Truly, deeply, and undeniably happy. South Sudan’s civil war would continue. People would starve. The situation there would remain horrific. But thousands of young girls wouldn’t contract and spread Ebola simply because they’d gotten their period.

He’d take this as a win, pathetic as it was.

The embrace ended, and Brie relaxed against his chest. “You should try to go back to sleep,” he said, stroking her hair. He knew she hadn’t slept well the last two nights.

“I should get dressed and talk to Savvy. I want more details. Hell, I wish I could see the pads burn with my own eyes.”

He understood that need. He released her and rose from the bed, clearing a path for her to get up. She grabbed clothes from the locker and pulled them on. They’d left everything behind in Casablanca, so she was back to wearing T-shirts purchased at the base store.

“Savvy also told me our suitcases will arrive today.” At the Army’s request, yesterday a maid had packed their belongings under the watchful eye of an FBI investigator, who’d shipped the bags to Camp Citron. “You’ll have your new passport back.”

She bit her lip. “I guess that means I’ll be heading home soon. I’m a distraction for you, and you need to get back to training Djiboutians.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow I’m back to my regular duties.” He frowned. “You won’t go back to Morocco, will you?”

“Not while JJ’s at large.”

“Good.”

“I made a decision when I was tossing and turning last night. Today I’m going to talk to Rafe about breaking the trust and selling the Casablanca house. I’m going to use my share as seed money for a charitable foundation focused on menstruation underwear for adolescent girls. I’m going to suggest Rafe donate his share too. I want JJ’s portion too, but odds are he’ll have to be convicted of conspiring with Nikolai in my abduction before he’ll give it up. Donating the money to my foundation is the least they owe me, considering Dad used my virginity to buy the place.”

“I think that’s a great idea. But damn, I’ll miss that Turkish bath.”

Her smile lit her eyes. “Me too. Maybe we can visit again before the house sells. How long are you going to be stuck here?”

He stepped forward, crooked a finger in the front of her jeans, and pulled her to him. “This deployment is all kinds of screwed up, but another A-Team is coming in a month. Even if our trainees aren’t ready, we’ll go home. They’ll need our CLUs for the new team, and they can wrap up the training with the Djiboutians before they start with a new set of trainees.”

She rested her forehead on his chest. “I can wait a month.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “But I’m going to have to get used to you being gone on long deployments, aren’t I?”

He nodded. This was the hard part of being in the Army and a relationship, and something he’d managed to avoid for nearly a decade. “This is my job. And when it doesn’t suck, I love it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m in, Bastian. A hundred percent. If I only get you six months out of the year, I’ll take it and be happy. If USAID were still a possibility for me, I’d seek short deployments while you’re gone, but at this point, I’m too much of a kidnapping risk. So maybe I’ll set up my foundation near Fort Campbell, Kentucky.”

Bastian’s heart expanded. “You’re going to stay in my apartment?” He’d offered his home to her several times, but she hadn’t been ready to make a decision.

She nodded. “Pax told me yesterday that Morgan’s heading to Fort Campbell in a week. I don’t really know her, but…I don’t know…the idea of having an almost-friend there to help me settle in is appealing. Plus she’ll be missing Pax as much as I’m missing you. We can commiserate.”

He kissed her nose. “You should know my apartment is nothing like your home in Casablanca. There’s a lot more Ikea going on than hand-stuffed by fairies.”

“As long as it doesn’t have a pit toilet, I’m good.”

“Um—” He winked at her.

She laughed and stepped back, turning to the sink where she brushed her teeth, then studied the bruises on her neck in the mirror. “Damn, I look like hell.”

“You’re beautiful. You look like you’ve been through hell. There’s a difference.”

He stepped up behind her. “I’d like to Skype my parents today and introduce you to them.”

In the mirror, her eyes widened. “Are you sure? Maybe you should mend your relationship with them before you throw me into the mix.”

He planted his hands on her hips and turned her to face him. “You are the most important person in my life. I want them to meet you. To know what you mean to me. I’m proud that we’re together, that you love me. Hell, I want a do-over of the flight deck ceremony so I can step up to the microphone and tell the whole world Brie Stewart is mine. And if you were still Gabriella Prime, that wouldn’t change how I feel. I don’t love you for your name, your money—or lack of it—or any façade the world sees. I love you with everything I am.” He paused. “When I watched that plane explode—” He cleared his throat as his eyes teared. “I—I—” He shook his head. “There aren’t words for the feeling.”

Her eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and took a deep breath, then said, “I’m not going to waste another moment of my life on hurt and anger. I’m not going to spend another day pissed because my parents chose Cece over me. I left instead of fighting, but I’m not going to run anymore. I love them. I love you. If they don’t see that inside you were never the person the world believed you to be, then they aren’t giving you a chance.”

She cupped his face between her palms. “I love you so much. I’m scared you’ll be hurt in this. I don’t want to be the cause of more pain between you and your parents.”

He took her arm and ran his fingers over the needle scars. “You’ve owned your past, and you’ve busted your ass to make amends. Hell, you were the reason the pipeline failed in the first place. If they can’t see who you are, it’s on them. And in that situation, you wouldn’t be the cause of my pain. They would. But that’s not going to happen, because I have a feeling I’ve underestimated them in my hurt and anger. They love me. I know they want me to be happy. And when I’m with you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest. “In the Turkish bath—I couldn’t believe how happy I was, in spite of our crazy situation. I was happy because I was with you. Even being stranded in South Sudan was fun in the strangest way.” She let out a soft laugh and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “We’ll always have South Sudan.”

He laughed. “Damn. You beat me to it. That was supposed to be my line.”

She stroked the stubble on his cheek. “So, your enemies call you asshole. Lovers call you bastard. What do friends with extreme benefits call you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had one of those before. What do you want to call me?”

She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Mine,” she said. “All mine.”