She was safe and rescued, but it meant nothing. As long as Beth was still unaccounted for, Holly was imprisoned right along with her. She could feel the ropes tightening around her heart.

They loosened, just a little, when Logan walked into the room, his head almost grazing the ceiling as he entered small kitchenette area of an old RV parked forty miles outside Washington.

“It’s nice,” he said, looking around the dim insides of their new old RV. “Right? Kinda rustic?”

“It’s rustic,” Holly said, forcing a smile. When Logan was with her, she tried not to imagine what Beth was still going through. She tried to save those moments for when she was alone. For when she could cry.

Being at a DARC Ops safe house—or RV—was a nice change, however. Nice considering the alternative. Jackson had gotten her out of perhaps the longest debriefing—and likely interrogation—in the history of the agency by claiming she needed medical attention. In reality, all she needed was Logan’s attention. He’d taken her himself out of the city to a half-vacant RV park. The whole place, the RV included, looked run-down and dilapidated enough to look legit. She and Logan had even dressed the part. T-shirts and jeans for days, if necessary. She didn’t mind staying there for days if it meant she would be alone with her man. But that would also mean Beth was still in trouble. In reality, hours were as long as she could stand.

Logan had promised that would be all his team needed.

“They’re zeroing in on her right now,” he said.

He’d said things like this occasionally that afternoon, especially when she’d forget and let her guard down around him. Let her head hang down. Eyes down, tears down. She sniffled back some more tears. “Please tell me you brought that fucking whiskey.”

A minute later, they were pouring drinks and trying to forget.

It was easy not knowing about the outside world.

If the world could only be this RV kitchenette . . . if it could only be her and Logan . . .

“I’ll get them on the radio,” Logan said, “when they get close enough. You’ll want to hear that, right?”

He was talking about the rescue mission. She liked hearing about it, and talking about it. But at that point, even words were becoming a little maddening.

“So, then they for sure know where she is?”

“Not exactly yet. They know the warehouse. They’re surrounding it. Do you want to hear that, too?”

“I want to hear everything.” She finished what was left in her glass and poured more. She wanted to sit there and listen and drink until it was all over. Then she’d straddle her man, and they’d fuck like animals for the rest of the night. Rest of the week. Rest of their lives, maybe.

Logan was sitting across from her in a vinyl booth, similar to the one you’d find in an old diner. The place had charm. She couldn’t deny that.

Logan had some charm, too. He winked at her and took a drink.

She didn’t wink back.

Logan took another sip. “Jackson tells me they’re making headway, cooperating with the CIA.”

She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

“Apparently, they’re using this to repair relations among the two groups. Also, I think, to cover each other’s asses in some way. But I think they’ve gotten used to Jackson butting into their business. Can’t beat him, join him kind of thing. Or at least, let him join whatever mission they’re on.”

She took another drink.

“We’ll get her,” Logan said. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“I know.”

“You’re doing good, Holly.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve done enough.”

Finally, she felt an authentic laugh come on. “Yeah, I did enough to start this whole thing. I don’t think I’ll ever do anything ever again.”

“That’s fine with me,” he said, chuckling. He was still smiling at her. God, Logan with a genuine smile on his face was sex on legs. She almost wanted him right then and there, save for the circumstances. He chuckled again. “Well, there is maybe one thing I’d still like for you to do.”

“There’s a whole lot of things I could still do, as long as it was with you.”

“And in private.”

“Maybe not in an RV.”

“Maybe,” he said, looking back toward the bedroom at the back. “Maybe if we get the right news.”

She downed the rest of her glass. “Fuck, I hate waiting.”

“I know.”

“I thought he was supposed to call you back with the updates,” Holly said. “What’s going on?”

“I spoke to Tansy. He says to say thank you, by the way. He’s still working on it. He found info on Andrei’s phone that led the agents to a warehouse.”

“And they know she’s there?”

“They know she’s there.”

She looked across the table, studying his face, looking for the lie. “Are you sure?”

“What else do you want to know?”

“I want to hear it all. If I can’t be there in person . . .”

Logan took out his phone again and did something. The plan was for them to listen in live to the radio comms, but the longer the communication gap, the more worried Holly felt. The more likely it seemed that it was all just a big tease. False hope crashing and burning into the painful reality that they hadn’t found Beth. Or worse, that they had found her, and she was dead—as Andrei had promised.

But Andrei always was a liar. Right?

“I know you’re worried,” Logan said. “But we just have to be patient a little longer.”

She looked at her empty glass, questioning if she should have a little more. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Doubts crowded her mind. Was the alcohol making her think things that weren’t true, or was she finally seeing things clearly? “I don’t know why I couldn’t help, with you and DARC. This whole thing with coming out here, it’s like they just want to get rid of us.”

“Holly, I told you, if you showed your face anywhere around D.C., they’d have you in an interrogation cell for days. Me too, probably. Would you rather that?”

She sighed.

“Or would you rather this?” Logan said, holding out the bottle.

For now, she’d rather just get drunk. She poured the next drink for both of them.

Logan looked up from his phone. “I guess there’s a pissed-off assistant director who’s heading to the DARC headquarters.”

“CIA assistant director?”

Logan nodded. “Word got out that we were holding and interrogating Gary Johnson. I think everyone involved is pretty embarrassed about that. It’s probably yet another thing that won’t show up in the papers.”

“I don’t want any of it in the papers.”

“That’s also a possibility. Regardless,” Logan said, “you might want to hide out with me for a while.”

“With you and Beth,” she said, biting her lip, trying to stay hopeful. And then something erupted inside her, some great need for him. For his touch. Holly stood and circled the table, sliding onto the bench next to Logan, snuggling up close to his warmth, her head already in his hands.

Logan looked at her, his face moving close, his eyes closing.

They kissed sweetly at first, an act of therapy, Logan doing his best to heal her with his love. She felt it so strongly, along with his beating heart when they collapsed into each other. Both of their hearts racing. Both of their mouths opening.

He tasted so nice. Barrel-aged whiskey between them, warm and half drunk. Half wanting.

She almost forgot . . .

They ended their kiss. Logan wrapped his arms around her, and she wanted to stay there for the next year, but there was still that one last remaining obstacle. There was still her need to see Beth.

Those exact words barely had time to leave her mouth before she heard the knock at the door.

Logan’s embrace tightened for a split second, and then eased off when neither a person or rounds from a gun came through the door. He stood and mouthed the words, stay there.

She stayed there, at their table. At her vinyl booth. She watched Logan open the door, his expression lighting up. And then his voice, even brighter, saying, “Holly? There’s someone here for you.”

She almost jumped over the table to get there, pushing Logan out of the way and staring out the doorway at the tired and sickly—but still the—smile of her cousin. “Beth!”

Standing behind her were agents from her office and DARC. No one said a word.

Beth took two steps forward and bear hugged Holly, her shoulders heaving hard with the crying that took over them both. Sad, glad crying. No words were needed.