Alexa’s pulse spiked as a slow ribbon of heat tore through her body. Jake’s hands were on her.

“I’m going to touch you everywhere, Alexa,” Jake whispered in her ear, and her heart raced.

Her shoulders shook as she clutched at her chest and blinked her eyes open.

“Shit, where am I?” she mumbled, trying to slow her heartbeat although her body still clenched with need.

“At the police station in Helena.”

It was Jake’s voice—low, husky, and sexy as hell.

She sat upright, realizing she’d been leaning against Jake as she slept, dreaming about their time together last year. “Oh.”

Dear God, what if she had said something? What if she had moaned?

“I don’t even remember coming here,” she admitted.

He stood, bracing his leg. He shouldn’t have gone running after the shooter—for multiple reasons.

“Any updates on the agents?” It was coming back to her now—the agents parked outside had been flown via helicopter to the hospital in Helena, which was better equipped for emergency surgery than the clinic in the small town where the ranch was located.

“One of the agents didn’t make it, but the other—well, he’s in surgery. The doctors are optimistic.” His face was grim, and she could tell he was blaming himself. “Trent’s fine,” he added. “He’ll have a sling on his arm for a bit.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her hands down her face, hating that they lost someone. She wished they still had the shooter alive to interrogate him. Randall hadn’t aimed to kill, but he’d been off by a few centimeters, and the bullet had nicked the man’s heart. Now they wouldn’t be able to pump the gunman for information.

“There was just the one shooter, right?”

“Looks like it.”

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked after a few moments stretched across the room.

“Just an hour or two.”

“And have you been sitting with me this whole time?” Her voice was soft as she stood, and he turned to face her, nodding.

“And how are you holding up?”

The stubble on his jaw was thicker than yesterday, and his lips were raw. Some crazy part of her wanted to kiss those lips—to try and make him feel better in any way that she could. To make her feel better, too. To pretend they hadn’t lost any lives—and they were just two normal people who didn’t stand between life and death.

“I’m fine, but—”

She angled her head and focused on his eyes as she waited for him to continue.

“He was there.”

“He?”

“The shooter.” He swallowed. “He was in London. He wasn’t responsible for thrashing my back, I don’t think. But he was there before the explosion. I’d never forget those eyes. I’d been looking right into them before the bomb went off.”

“You recall the explosion?” She nearly choked on her words. Did he remember her, too?

“A little. I was at a factory or something, and then I saw that shooter. I worked at the vest, trying to get it off. Then I jumped out a window.” He tapped at his skull with a closed fist. “I must know something if he came all the way over here to shut me down.” He clenched his hands at his sides and took a step closer to Alexa, which had her taking a deep breath.

“The damn memories are hanging there, so close, but I can’t seem to grab them. But soon, Alexa . . . and then we’ll bring these sons of bitches down.”

His sudden confidence was a message to her—Jake was coming back.

The Marine. The agent. The man who had swept her off her feet . . .

Before she could say anything, the creaking sound of the door pushing open had her mouth going tight.

“We have orders.” It was Xander.

She nodded at him and brushed past Jake, wondering what would happen between the two of them when Jake finally did remember everything . . .

She followed Xander out of the office and into a conference room two doors down. She didn’t check to see if Jake trailed behind her. Then again, she didn’t need to. She could feel his presence. It was like warmth and comfort moving through her, wrapping her tight.

For some reason, it was like she didn’t need to be as composed, firm, and steely when she was around Jake. With him, she could be herself, without worrying about appearing weak. He made her feel delicate, almost. Fragile. And for a small glimmer of a moment, she liked the idea of being like that, of allowing someone to protect her, to make her feel safe.

She hadn’t felt like that since her father had died. She had always been Daddy’s little princess, a girl who played with dolls . . . and now she played with guns. So much had changed.

As she sat down at the conference table, her hand unconsciously fluttered to the scar at her side, and she closed her eyes.

“You okay?” Jake’s mouth was at her ear, his hand on her back as he took the chair next to her.

Wasn’t she supposed to be the one asking that?

“I’m fine,” she murmured and opened her eyes, turning her attention to Randall and Xander, who were the only other men in the room.

Xander stood with crossed arms on the other side of the long, maple table. “The CIA, FBI, and NSA are teaming up to try and get at Kemal Bekas and the members of Anarchy at every angle possible,” Xander began, his voice tightly controlled. “They’ll be working full throttle on this. The time for chasing and waiting for Bekas to slip up is over.” Alexa could detect his seething anger in the wry smile he shot her way. “We’re taking Bekas out, one way or another, within the next week.”

Within a week? They’d been after Bekas for a year and a half, almost. That they could meet this goal in only a week felt . . . well, surreal. Alexa’s face flushed; her body trembled.

“I can’t believe the Joint Committee approved it,” she said wonderingly. In 2015, the British government had established a panel of six members from the House of Lords and six from the House of Commons, to hold a special constitutional convention to debate the merit of drone strikes when taking out high-value targets.

The drone strike that killed Kemal Bekas’s family had occurred a week before the establishment of the Joint Committee, or JOC. Once agents and military personnel had realized that the area wasn’t clear as had been reported, the order to withhold the firing of the missiles came one second too late. The two-second delay between the pilot’s joystick and the MQ-9 Drone Reaper had meant the deaths of Bekas’s innocent daughters and wife.

When Xander didn’t answer her question, Alexa knew why.

If MI6 was bypassing the JOC, they must have been turning this over to the Americans. If her government wouldn’t authorize the capture or kill of Bekas, certainly the Americans would . . .

“What role will we play, then?” she asked softly. She didn’t want to be cut out of this after all the time she’d spent hunting @Anarchy. She couldn’t imagine that Laney would surrender easily, either. But Laney would always put her country ahead of her pride, which was one reason that Alexa knew she could trust her.

Jake pinched his brows together as Randall rounded the desk and came to stand next to Xander. “You’ll be assisting us with intel—we’ll keep you in the game. This is still your baby. But any orders to take down Bekas will not fall on you. MI6 will pull out before then to keep you all good with Parliament.” Randall patted Xander on the back.

At least MI6 and the FBI finally appeared to be on the same page.

“Have you talked to Laney?” Alexa rubbed her hands against her jeaned thighs as she tried to adjust to the new situation. “Have we found out yet the origins of the intel that the NSA received that sent Jake and the agents to Sicily? Was it Anarchy?”

“Laney won’t be able to take point on this, but she agrees with the change of plans,” Xander answered. “And Sam has the intel from the NSA,” he tipped his head toward Randall in thanks for supplying the transmissions, “but he hasn’t yet traced the origins of the emails. He’s still working on it.”

“Okay,” Alexa said. “So, what’s the plan?”

“The CIA director has been in a briefing with the NSA director for the last hour. They’re sending a team to Barcelona,” Randall said. “And they have agreed to send the both of you, as well as Xander and me, along. You know more about this case than anyone.”

Alexa pushed away from the desk and stood. “Of course I’m in.” She looked over at Jake, who was bracing against the table as if worried that he might fall out of his chair. His lips were tight, and his eyes cast down. “Should Jake be going? Anarchy tried to kill him,” Alexa wondered aloud. He had a target on his head, after all. “And how the hell did they discover he’s alive . . . and his location?”

“We’re not sure how Anarchy found out. We’re interviewing the few hospital members who were aware of his survival, as well as London PD. We’ll find out how the information was leaked, and the responsible party will be held accountable.” Xander’s attention shifted to Jake as he slowly rose. “Do you want in, Jake? Now that they know you’re alive, there’s no reason to hide.” Xander raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Well, other than to stay safe.”

Staying alive. Sure, who wouldn’t want that? But a Marine and FBI agent would do what was right, and part of that scared Alexa. She didn’t want anything to happen to Jake, especially when he still didn’t remember exactly who he was.

“I’ll help under one condition.” Jake’s eyes flashed up to Randall’s face. “I want my family held somewhere safe until this is over. I don’t want them becoming collateral damage because of me.”

Her stomach squeezed at his words.

“Done,” Randall said without hesitation.

“When do we leave?” Jake asked in a low voice, but Alexa raised her hand up in the air.

“I’d like to know why we’re going to Barcelona.” She stole a glimpse of Jake from the corner of her eye, and she realized he was nodding in agreement. How bizarre that her fling was now her colleague.

“I should have led with that news. Sorry,” Xander said. “One good thing that came from the attack yesterday is that we got a new lead. Our facial recognition software identified the shooter. He goes by the name Ray, and he flew from London to Barcelona a few days ago before he came here,” Xander said. “He’s a British citizen with Egyptian origins. In his forties—a militant for hire. Has no known ideologies.”

Jake walked up next to her and folded his arms.

“No connection to ISIS?” she asked.

“No,” Xander responded.

Good. This confirmed her suspicions that ISIS and @Anarchy had nothing to do with one another. “So, why was Ray in Barcelona?” she asked.

“Because Reza is now in Barcelona, and since we’re speeding up the timetable on Anarchy, we’ve decided to go after them hard and fast,” Xander said. “Instead of merely stealing files, we’re going to download malware onto Reza’s computer so we can track his movements. And hopefully get a hit on what they’re planning since we failed with Gregov’s files.”

Alexa rubbed a hand down her jaw. They’d considered such a move in the past, but the risk of detection had been deemed too high. If they got caught, their operation could be compromised—everything they’d built in their case could become useless if Reza knew they were on to him. “Can we take that chance? These guys are the best we’ve ever seen.” Well, almost the best. There was still one hacker better. “Reza will pick up on it.”

“We have to try, Alexa,” Xander said solemnly.

“And we can’t just take this Reza guy into custody and question him, right?” Jake’s voice filled the room.

“The problem is that we know we won’t be able to get Reza or anyone to talk, and I’m betting the attacks are already in motion—so killing Bekas and the rest will have no effect,” Xander answered.

“You guys already have agents in Istanbul on Bekas, but we’re sending some guys there, as well. Gregov is in Cyprus, so there are two additional men on the way there, too. We have the major players covered,” Randall added.

“Yeah, I think I need some water. Excuse me,” Jake said.

Alexa noticed Jake’s hand sliding to his outer thigh as he exited the room, and she wondered how much additional pain he was now suffering as a result of his confrontation with the shooter earlier. “You sure bringing him along is what’s best?” she asked Xander.

“We need his memories, Alexa.” Xander came around and placed a hand on her shoulder. “There will be plenty of people who will have his back.” His steely gray eyes steadied on hers, but she didn’t find comfort in his words. Not even a little bit.

“Who is going to download the malware to Reza’s computer?” she asked, and Xander dropped his hand and glanced at Randall. “I think I can do it,” she offered, hardly believing it herself.

“No offense, Alexa, but this will be different from anything you’ve done before.”

“What about Sam? He’s good,” she said.

“Sam’s great, but I don’t think he can do it. Besides, we need him working with the NSA to identify the source of the emails, to check out your hunch on that intel. And . . .”

“And what?” Her face blanched.

“Sam said our servers at MI6 are running a little slow. He said it’s barely noticeable, but well, you know Sam. He noticed it. He’s going through some diagnostic tests,” Xander said.

That’s not good. “So—who are we bringing in, then?” Oh, God. Don’t say it. Don’t say his name.

Xander gripped the flesh at his throat for a moment as his eyes shifted to the floor. “We need the absolute best hacker we can get. We have to bring in Jason Holms. I’m so sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, Xander.”

Jason Holms—the greatest living arsehole of all time.

Although Kemal Bekas was giving stiff competition for that spot.

No. No. No!

“You know that’s the last thing I want, too, but we have no choice—” Xander started, but she didn’t care to hear any more. She turned away from him, and when he placed a hand on her arm, she yanked herself free, too bloody pissed off to even look at her friend.

How could he go to Jason for help? He knew she couldn’t work with the man, and Xander had his own reasons for hating him. It was absurd.

Alexa hurried out of the room, feeling as though her lungs were coated with paint—sticky, heavy, hardly inflating.

She bent forward and clutched her chest.

“You okay?”

Alexa’s gaze slid up Jake’s strong, jeaned legs, and then found his torso before lifting to his face. “Yeah.” She merely mouthed the word, unable to speak.

She straightened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder as his brows furrowed. “You don’t look okay.”

Of course, she wasn’t okay. She could hardly believe this was happening. But she softly responded, “I’ll be fine once this is all over.” She forced herself to move past him and get outside, desperately longing for the harsh slap of winter on her skin.