He was on the island. Raketa knew it without needing to see him or be told. She could feel Gunner Godet’s presence. She’d been able to since the very first time she saw him. Monk had disappeared a few minutes ago, although she’d stopped keeping track of him the first day he arrived. She’d never met anyone with a more appropriate code name.

She decided to meet the traitorous wretch head on, so she went outside and stood near the place where he’d built a fire the night before he left. From there she could see his approach from any direction.

“I brought you a present,” he whispered in her ear.

If she had a gun, he’d be dead. Or maybe she would be, considering he’d sneaked up on her without a sound.

Before she could take the swing at him that she intended, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her back to his front.

“You’re gonna like it,” he said into her ear before kissing the side of her neck.

As much as she tried to stay stiff as a board, continually reminding herself how much she hated him, she was powerless against the assault he was waging on her body with his tongue, lips, and hands.

“I hate you,” she said to him instead.

“I can tell,” he murmured as her body relaxed against him.

When she felt the dampness of tears on her cheeks, she pulled out of his grasp and spun around. “You told me you wouldn’t use sex against me. You lied to me. You betrayed me.”

“I kept you safe. There is no betrayal in wanting to protect someone.” When he advanced on her, she took a step backward. “Open your gift before you tell me you hate me again.”

Raketa studied the cardboard box in front of her. The only thing it could contain that would keep her from hating him was Petrov’s ashes. Even then, she’d have to know where her mother was and that she was alive before she could ever trust Gunner again.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

She shrugged away from him and crossed her arms, wishing she wasn’t so curious about what was in the box.

“You’re gonna want to do this after you open it,” he said, grasping her neck and covering her mouth with his. He nipped at her lip, and she opened to him. She hated that she’d missed him as much as she told herself she despised him. Her arms wrapped around his neck of their own volition, and she pressed her body against his.

Gunner was the first to let go. “Open it,” he said, handing her his pocket knife.

“Where are you going?” she asked when she saw him walk away.

“I’m giving you some privacy.”

“Oh.” Disappointment was written all over her face; she knew it because of the look on Gunner’s as he walked back toward her.

“It’s okay, Rocket Girl. I promise this is something you want to do on your own. When you’re ready, call my name, and I’ll come back out.”

She nodded, trusting what she saw in his eyes, even through her trepidation.

Raketa sliced through the top of the box and saw what was inside was wrapped in what looked like several layers of packing material.

Something morbid occurred to her fleetingly. She might think she’d love it, however, she doubted very much that what was wrapped so carefully was Petrov’s severed head.

She shook the thought away as she carefully peeled away the layers of plastic and paper.

When Gunner heard Raketa gasp, he knew she’d opened the wooden box. He told her he was giving her privacy, but he stayed just on the other side of his bedroom door, not watching, but listening. If he sensed this was too much for her, he’d go back out whether she called for him or not.

He could hear papers shuffling as he assumed she looked through the box’s contents. Shortly after, he heard the legs of the chair scrape on the kitchen floor and then scrape again when she’d taken a seat and moved it back to the table.

He let his body slide down the wall and sat with his back against the door. It might take her hours to get through all of it since she’d probably go back and look at its contents again and again. He could wait. He wanted to. Never before had he felt so strongly that what he had done by giving it to her was the right thing to do. And maybe, the only thing that would stop her from hating him for leaving her here when he knew damn well the mission he’d gone on was one she’d wanted to carry out herself.

Raketa hesitated before touching the photographs that sat on top of the box. What if they disappeared or crumbled in her hands? She’d be devastated. Her rational self pushed through; there was nothing about them that looked fragile. They had been very well preserved.

She’d never seen them before, or if she had, she didn’t remember. Without necessarily recognizing herself, she knew the baby, toddler, and little girl in the photos were her.

She did recognize her mother and even her father although he looked nothing like the man who had been holding her captive only a few days before.

The box held more than photos. There were official-looking documents, cards, and letters—all of which were written in Azeri.

She reached in and pulled out a pair of baby shoes. She guessed they were the same as any other of their kind, but to her, they were precious. Near the bottom of the box, she found a few clothing items and a blanket that felt so soft when she held it against her cheek.

One by one, she opened the cards first, and then the letters. Some had been written by someone Raketa didn’t recall ever having heard mentioned. She knew by the signature, though, that they were from her mother’s mother. The box also held letters her mother had written in response, all tied in bundles and kept in order by date.

“There is nothing on earth as precious as a mother’s love for her child.” Raketa read her grandmother’s words. “It is boundless and limitless.”

When she read her mother’s response, she saw that not only had she agreed, but she had gone on and on about how she’d never realized such love existed.

Raketa set the letter aside, rested her head on her folded arms, and let herself cry.

Makar Petrov had not only taken her mother from her, he’d taken love that she didn’t remember having away from her too.

She felt Gunner’s hand on her back and was grateful he’d come to her without her having to ask. She heard him pull a chair closer to her, and went willingly when he picked her up and held her on his lap.

“Thank you,” she murmured and felt him nod.

He held her that way long after the sun had gone down. He stroked her back, kissed her forehead softly, and kept his arms around her.

There was no way for her to describe the way she was feeling, and she was glad he hadn’t asked. The closest she could get was to liken it to someone waking up from amnesia and seeing proof of the life they were just beginning to recall.

She knew from the brief Monk had shared with her that Petrov had ghosted and had taken her mother, along with everyone else that had been at the compound, with him.

There was no reason for her to believe Petrov would kill her mother now after keeping her alive for so many years. She also didn’t doubt he’d get word to her before she, Gunner, or anyone else from K19, MI6, or the CIA found him. He knew that he held the ultimate weapon to get Raketa to do his bidding, and he was right. She’d kill anyone who got in the way of her mother being safe, or she’d die trying.

“He wants his daughters,” she murmured. “That’s what he told me he wanted in exchange for my life.”

“You’re his daughter too,” Gunner whispered.

“Am I?” Raketa wasn’t so certain after seeing the photographs. In the few he was in, he seemed to intentionally stand apart from her and her mother. There wasn’t a single photo of him holding her. She hadn’t read through all of the letters, but she hoped they would provide some clue as to whether her suspicions were correct.

“If you want to know for sure, the answer is readily available, sweetheart.”

“I know.” A simple DNA comparison, which had likely already been performed, would confirm whether Petrov was her biological father or not. “Do you know?”

Gunner shook his head.

“Thank you.”

Gunner pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed his thumb against the button to unlock it. “Here. Call Shiv.”

Raketa didn’t take the phone from him.

“Do you want me to do it?”

She rested her head against his chest and nodded.

“Before I do, I want to tell you about Doc and Quinn.”

She remembered that the man he referred to as Doc, Kade Butler, and his daughter, Quinn, hadn’t known whether he was her father. Ultimately, they found out he was, but the circumstances were so different than Raketa’s. Granted, if Kade hadn’t been confirmed as Quinn’s father, it would’ve meant that her mother’s rapist was.

For Raketa, the proof would simply tell her that she was the spawn of a man she considered the devil, or of a man who’d abandoned her mother once he knew she was pregnant. What good would knowing do her?

“I already know about them,” she told him when she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

“It’s your decision.”

Raketa took the phone from his hand and set it on the table. “It doesn’t matter.”

She looked back at the box longingly, wanting to know more about the life she could hardly remember.

Gunner must’ve sensed what she was feeling, and shifted her off of his lap.

“I’ll give you your privacy back,” he said, turning to leave the kitchen.

Raketa rested her hand on his arm. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

He nodded, and she could swear she caught a glimpse of a grin.

Gunner watched as the expressions on her face morphed from happiness to sadness and back again. A feeling he could only describe as pride settled in his chest. Shiv had found the box, but he had brought it to her. It was the greatest gift he’d ever given anyone.

When she put the last of the letters back in its envelope, she turned to him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You were right to tell me not to say I hated you again until after I saw all of this.”

“I’m generous that way. I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

She smiled. The man sitting beside her was everything she’d dreamed he’d be. Gunner Godet was honorable. He didn’t betray her trust; he’d honestly believed he was keeping her safe. What they had to discuss was how the next step would play out. Would he insist she stay on the island while he and his team tried to find Petrov, or would he willingly let her participate in the search? She’d only accept the latter no matter what he wanted.

“Doc and Eighty-eight met with Shiv. As soon as they have any kind of lead, we’ll join them.”

“We’ll join them?”

“Yes, Rocket Girl. Both of us.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Let’s just say it was Razor’s doing.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t really care what that meant. As long as Gunner intended to let her find her mother, she wouldn’t question why.

“I have information that may assist them.”

“Talk to me, Raketa.”

“Raketa believes that Petrov may have fled to Iran,” Gunner told Doc.

“Based on what information?”

“Something she heard about a deal as she was being escorted into Petrov’s office.”

“Would he be that sloppy?”

“It was the tail end of a conversation and only one word mattered—Azarpassillo.”

As soon as she’d said it, Gunner understood where she was headed. The Iranian construction company was controlled by the country’s Revolutionary Guard, notorious for greasing the hands of Azerbaijan’s wealthiest and most powerful oligarchs.

He knew from the Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index, Azerbaijan was among the most corrupt nations in the world. A perfect place for the likes of Petrov to operate. However, if he needed to ghost, the Iranians were the most likely to offer him a place to land.

“What about United Russia?” asked Doc.

“I’m not so certain they want him dead.”

“We’ll work this angle and report back.”

Gunner disconnected the call and looked into Raketa’s hopeful eyes. “I think we’re on the right track,” he told her.

She stood and paced the living room. He could almost see the thoughts as she processed them. Raketa wasn’t just an assassin, she’d been trained as an operative, and he trusted her instincts.

“I need access to a computer.”

Gunner stood, walked over to a locked cabinet, opened it, and handed her a laptop.

“Is it secure?” she asked.

Gunner pulled out a card, inserted it into a slot on the front of the machine, and logged on.

“You’re trusting me?” she asked when he turned the computer toward her.

“You’re trusting me?” he asked in response.

He watched as she made several attempts at hacking into encrypted Azerbaijani sites. In less than a half hour, she was successful. Most of what she was looking at was in Azeri, although some of the documents were written in Iranian and Russian.

“I’ve compiled the information you need to send,” she told him after more than two hours.

The entire time, Gunner had sat doing nothing but watch her. She was equally impressive in her espionage skills, ability to quickly decipher what she was reading and determine what was worth passing on, and hotter than shit.

Gunner shouldn’t have been turned on watching a woman sitting in front of a computer, but he was.

“What?” she said, looking at his expression.

“Nothing,” he answered, willing his body to settle the hell down.

“Gunner?”

He’d stand, but if he did, it would be impossible for her not to know what he was thinking. He looked into her imploring eyes.

“Watching you…”

She folded her arms.

He leaned forward and released them, getting right into her face. “Your spy skills make me hot, Rocket Girl.”

Her face went from questioning to smiling as she stood and pulled him up with her. “Let’s get you cooled off.”

“That wasn’t at all what I had in mind.”

“I think you know what I meant.”

That was another thing about her that never failed to make certain parts of his body twitch. Her accent was sexy as hell too, and even though her English was practically flawless, he could tell when he had her flustered by the way her mastery of the language’s nuances slipped.

He couldn’t fault her though; it would make him a hypocrite. When she heated his blood, he could barely speak his native language.

“Where are we going?” he asked when she led him out the front door.

“To the waterfall.”

“Hang on,” he said, dropping her hand and heading into the bedroom. No way would he forget the condoms this time.