“Six tangos down,” Brooks said, coming into the room. “How many did you count?”

“Only saw four. Warren and three others,” I returned.

“Warren? Charles-motherfucking-Warren? Piece of shit extraordinaire?” Declan asked.

“One in the same.”

I held a shaking Erin in my arms and watched Declan yank the masks off the men in the room. I didn’t recognize the one Erin had taken down but the other man I knew. We’d worked a CIA contract with him years ago. He’d left the agency and word was he was doing contract and mercenary work. Seems Warren had kept in contact with his old operative. Not good.

“All clear,” Max announced, joining us in the room. “The team is waiting. The helicopter is here.”

“Where the fuck are we?”

“Joshua Tree National Park. About a hundred and sixty miles northeast of San Diego.”

“Erin needs a medic.”

“We’re headed to Twentynine Palms. Z and the rest of the guys are waiting for us there. ETA ten minutes,” Dec informed me.

I didn’t bother sparing Charles Warren’s corpse a second glance. My woman needed medical attention. I’d died a thousand deaths watching Erin stab the dirtbag in the neck. His gun had been pointed directly at her chest; she was mere seconds away from being shot. By some miracle she’d gotten the drop on him, and they’d fallen to the floor. But the sound her head made hitting the concrete made me think she’d cracked her skull open. Thank God, it hadn’t, but there was no question she had a concussion. I wasn’t sure if she was the world’s bravest woman or the stupidest one. She could’ve been killed. For all intents and purposes she should be dead, the asshole had a clear, point-blank shot. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but we’d be having a conversation about her following directions and never putting herself in harm’s way again.

I followed Declan out of the maze of hallways and squinted when the harsh sunlight hit my face.

“Close your eyes, Erin.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“It’s okay.”

“What is?” she mumbled, her face still pressed against my chest.

“To throw up.”

“I’m not going to throw up on you.”

“I’m not setting you down. So if you need to throw up, do it.”

With every step I took, my ribs screamed in protest. Her body jostling against the broken bones. Thad turned to say something and saw me wince. “Want me to take her?”

“No.”

“If you puncture a lung from carrying her—”

“Then the doc can patch me up. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Copy that.”

He jogged ahead of us and climbed into the helicopter. Declan and Max helped hoist me into the cabin. Once we were in, I damn near collapsed in the seat.

Every goddamn bone in my upper body felt like it was either cracked or bruised. Pain radiated everywhere. I tried to cover my grunts with a cough but even that hurt.

“Let me up.”

“No, sunshine.”

“I’m hurting you.”

“No.”

“But—”

“Erin, right now, no matter how much pain it may cause me, I need you in my arms. I need to feel you breathing. I need you close so I can reassure myself you’re alive. Please, just give me this.”

The pain was nothing compared to the relief I felt.

“Okay.” She burrowed back in and tightened her arms around me.

“You know,” Kyle started. “We had a bet going whether when we got to you it was going to be a rescue mission or a cleanup. Just want it known, I said cleanup. Good to see you, brother.”

“Fuck, you too, man. I thought we’d have a few more hours before you got to us.”

Now that all the guys had taken off their masks, I could see the concern etched in their faces. I hadn’t worked an op with Thad, Max, Kyle, or Brooks, but we’d trained with the Gold Team. They were a good group of guys. It looked like Declan fit right in.

“We were already in San Diego on standby. Something felt off. Greenwold went down too easy,” Declan told me. I was anxious to hear more about what he was talking about but right now with, every part of me hurting, I couldn’t concentrate on his words. I just wanted to hold Erin.

Thank God, she was alive.

Much to my extreme irritation, Erin and I were separated the moment we landed at Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center Twentynine Palms. The Marines of the 7th Marine Regiment didn’t fuck around. They’d welcomed us on the rooftop of the Robert E. Bush Naval Hospital with automatic weapons drawn at the ready and escorted us into the building. Declan promised he and his team wouldn’t leave Erin’s side as she was wheeled away from me on a stretcher.

I was hell-bent on walking into the exam room on my own and threatened to shove the wheelchair up the male nurse’s ass if he tried to get me to sit in it one more time. I wasn’t trying to be a tough guy, but it hurt like a motherfucker to sit, not that I’d admit it. I just wanted my ribs wrapped so I could get back to Erin’s side.

“Jesus, man. She’s not going anywhere,” Leo said as we waited for the doctor to come into the room. “Stop pacing.”

My team had all been there, waiting for us to arrive. Zane was pissed, and I was a little worried about what he’d do when I told him who was behind the kidnapping.

“Really? Is that why when Olivia was in the basement of the barn and was being examined after you rescued her you stood watch over her like a caged beast waiting to kill anyone who dared get near her?” I reminded him.

“So, it’s like that, is it?” The asshole chuckled.

“Exactly like that. I just want a fucking ace wrap so I can see for myself she’s all right. Is that too much to fucking ask around this goddamned place?”

Before I’d finished my sentence, the door opened and in walked Tom Anderson with a murderous look on his face.

“Tell me you took care of the bastard that hit my daughter.”

“I did,” I confirmed.

“I want a full AAR in my hands in the next hour.”

“Sorry, sir, but the after-action report is going to have to wait.”

“Come again?”

“The AAR is going to have to wait. All due respect, sir, after the fucking doctor gets me patched up, I’m going to Erin. I couldn’t give two fucks about any reports anyone wants. All everybody needs to know right now is Warren’s dead and my woman is scared out of her mind and needs me. Everything else is bullshit and can wait.”

“Your woman?” he asked.

“Mr. President.” His growl reminded me he hated the formality when we were in private. “Sir. Tom. I know this is a shit time to tell you this, but I’m gonna marry your daughter.”

Not the best way to tell a father you were going to marry his daughter. But I didn’t have the time nor the inclination to fuck around.

“Is that so?” He laughed. “Leo, mind giving us a minute alone?”

With a shake of his head and a smile, he left the room.

“Is that your version of asking for my permission to marry my daughter?”

“No, sir, it’s me telling you I love your daughter and I will do everything in my power to take care of her for the rest of my life. I’m going to make her my wife. Sooner, rather than later.”

The president’s head tipped back, and the room filled with raucous laughter.

“I see. Zane told me things had changed between you and Erin. Not that I was surprised. I saw it back in D.C. the first time you worked her detail. And I knew I was right, when you looked like a man beaten down when she was giving you trouble. No man I’d rather have by her side. If she’ll say yes, you have our blessing.”

I stared at Tom in shock. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d wanted his approval.

“Thank you,” I choked out.

“No. Thank you for keeping her safe.”

“She did that all on her own. No offense, but your daughter cannot follow directions. She didn’t stay hidden like we both asked. Instead, she risked her life and ran like a wild animal at a man with a gun pointed at her and incapacitated him faster than I’ve seen trained men do.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I love her,” I blurted out unnecessarily.

“Nothing more a father can ask for.”

The door opened and in walked a young doctor who looked fresh out of the academy. He took one look at the President of the United States and started stumbling over his words, like a star-struck groupie.

Christ Almighty, can’t a man get timely medical attention in this place?