Nina had woken early again, although if she’d suffered nightmares they’d faded on their own before she opened her eyes. The house was not dark but still quiet, everyone else sleeping, when she got up and dressed. She wasn’t thinking much about it, but she went to the attic and the easel with its brushes and paints. Turned half toward the window, so the light of dawn filtered over the blank canvas, Nina set everything up and stood, waiting for . . .

Inspiration?

She took a brush and held it at arm’s length, squinting down the brush end. Like she knew what in the universe she was doing. She chuckled at herself, shaking her head, then decided to simply start.

“Here we go,” she muttered.

The first few strokes of paint on the canvas felt wrong. The brush, unwieldy in her hesitant hand. The paint, too thick in globs, no delicate way to lay its path in anything resembling a picture. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t know what she wanted to paint in the first place. Nina didn’t know anything about art or painting techniques, or if she ever had, no muscle memory was kicking in to show her what to do. She could call to mind a few famous artists from history, but nothing about Dali’s surreal landscapes or Warhol’s cultural pieces seemed right to her. Fenwick had done some amazing work with watercolors, but Nina had only these tubes of paint and couldn’t begin to compare to that modern artist’s skills anyway.

The sun had risen higher, sending more pearly light into the window. From here she could see the ocean and a hint of the cliffs. Since Ewan had helped her face her fears about the stone staircase, Nina had been thinking about the cliffs a lot. She still hadn’t dared approach them.

But she could paint them.

Looking out the window, she tried to recreate what she saw. Her clumsy hands steadied. A picture took shape of slanted ceilings, a view through a window. Except it wasn’t the sea or cliffs that slowly took shape on the canvas, it was a forest of dark green trees and mountains in the distance.

She worked on it for a few hours before her rumbling stomach alerted her to the passing of time. Stepping back from the canvas, Nina laughed again at herself. A creak on the staircase behind her made her sigh and shake her head. Ewan, she thought. Well, she wasn’t going to be too embarrassed about the painting.

“I never claimed to be an artist,” she said before he made a sound.

He paused at the top of the stairs with his hand on the half wall before moving all the way into the office. “And yet you almost finished an entire painting. How did it make you feel?”

“Better,” she admitted with a rueful grin. “I wouldn’t have believed it, but I guess you were right. Thank you.”

“May I?” Ewan gestured toward the canvas.

Nina stepped aside so he could look at it. “My masterpiece.”

She’d been joking, but something about the look on his face faded the smile off her lips. She watched him look at the painting, then out the window and back to the canvas before he met her gaze. He looked solemn, but with a hint of something else deeper in his eyes.

“What were you painting?”

“I started to paint the view from this window,” Nina said. “But then I started on this instead. I think . . . I think it might be where I grew up. It feels like that.”

“Do you remember where you grew up?”

“I remember this place.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. Giddiness filtered through her, twisting her lips into a grin that felt more hysterical than happy. “I remember this place, Ewan, I do!”

In the next moment she was in his arms. They were both laughing as he squeezed her, his big, strong hands running down her back. There was something like a dance in the way they moved together.

She kissed him again, this time not like on the beach where it had been passionate and full of heat. This time, she kissed him slowly. Sweetly. Her eyes closed and her mouth open.

She could have told herself she meant it as a thank-you for the gift of the paints, brushes, and canvases, but she couldn’t convince herself of that. She kissed him because she wanted to taste him again. She wanted to feel the heat of his breath on her face, of his palms on her back. Nina tipped her head back to let the kiss deepen and smiled at the sound of Ewan’s low groan.

Nina opened her eyes. “Mmm.”

“Nina,” Ewan said. “That was . . .”

“Bombtastic? Galactic?”

He stepped back. “All of that. Yes.”

“But you don’t want me to kiss you again.” She saw it on his face, and embarrassment made her turn away.

“Not because the kiss was bad,” he said hastily.

“Because you’re my boss?”

“That’s a good reason, but . . . no.”

She turned. “What, then? Tell me, please, because I’m not imagining this thing between us, am I? This tiptoeing tension? It’s not all in my head, Ewan, is it?”

“No, Nina. It’s not. But I can’t do this with you.” Ewan drew a long, deep sigh and blew out the breath through the lips she’d just so stupidly kissed.

She nodded as though she understood, even though she only half did. “Sure. I get it. It’s weird. You’re my boss. And I’m so messed up, I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to get into something with me.”

She was in his arms again so fast that she stumbled and would have fallen as he pulled her next to him, if he wasn’t holding her upright. His fingers dug a little into her upper arms until he pulled her even closer.

“Don’t you ever say that,” Ewan said, so fiercely that it both scared her and sent a small, vibrant thrill all through her. “There is nothing wrong with you. Not like that.”

She thought he might kiss her this time, but although Ewan leaned close so that the gust of his breath traced patterns over her waiting mouth, he held back at the last moment. His grip loosened. He let her go. With reluctance, true, but he did release her.

“I can’t,” he said. “I want to, but I can’t.”

Nina could think of only one reason why a man who wanted a woman would resist what she was so clearly offering. “You have someone else.”

Ewan’s brow furrowed. He gave his head a scant shake, then seemed to change his mind. His expression, twisted in confusion, smoothed.

“Yes. But it’s complicated.”

“I feel like it always is,” Nina said with a sigh. She searched his gaze. “Did you break up?”

Ewan nodded. “Yes. A few times. Always my fault.”

“You . . . love her?”

“I love her more than I have ever loved any woman. More than I will ever love anyone else,” Ewan told her.

A string of emotions ran through her, each indistinguishable from the rest. Unsettled, Nina drew in a breath against the onslaught. She braced for pain in her head, for blankness, but none of that happened.

“She’s a lucky woman,” she said.

Ewan barked out a harsh laugh that pained her, since it was so clear he disagreed. “I was the lucky one, and I managed to screw it up, over and over.”

“Did she . . . love you?”

“She did.”

“Does she still?” Nina asked.

Ewan gave her a small, sad smile. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe she could again, if you had the chance to make things right with her,” she offered, even though the idea that Ewan had someone else only embarrassed her for going after him the way she had. Envy pricked at her, too, but she tried to shove it away.

She looked up to see him staring at her. His gaze held hers. Lingered.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

Awkwardly, she nodded and turned her attention back to the canvas. Keeping her tone deliberately light, she said, “Thank you again for the paints and supplies. I promise this new hobby won’t interfere with the work.”

“Nina . . .” Ewan coughed, then cleared his throat.

She turned slightly to look at him, a question on her face. He ran a hand through his hair then put both hands on his hips. He cleared his throat again.

“Forget about the busywork.”

She’d suspected for a while that transferring the files was a useless task, but hearing him say it outright was still surprising. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, forget it, all of it. The puzzles you hate so much. The stupid files. Concentrate on getting better. Paint. Run. Climb those stairs. Eat,” he added with a little chuckle that twisted something inside her into knots she didn’t want to feel. “The work was just—”

“An excuse,” she put in. “Something to keep me occupied.”

He nodded. “It was a way to give your mind something to focus on, so you could heal and recover. But it’s so galactically boring, Nina, there’s no reason you should keep wasting your time on it.”

“I can’t just not . . . work,” she said.

“Why not?”

A creak at the top of the stairs had them both turning. Aggie stood there, her gray hair wild as though she’d been outside in the wind. She gestured at them both, her gaze intense.

“I’ve received some rather distressing news,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donahue, but I’m going to have to ask for a leave of absence.”

* * *

“It’s my son,” Aggie said in a low voice when Nina had left the attic office. “He was hit by a truck while riding his buzzbike. They’ve put him into a coma until they can determine more, but he’s been in and out of surgery already.”

Aggie’s usual broad, casual accent had gotten crisper. She twisted her hands in the apron she still wore, but her entire demeanor had changed enough that there’d be no mistaking her for being only a cook and housekeeper now. She met Ewan’s eyes squarely, although her tone was apologetic.

“It was a hit-and-run. They don’t know if he’s going to pull through.”

“Of course you have to go. You and Jerome both. I understand completely.” Ewan also kept his voice down, although neither of them was saying anything that would give away the extent of Aggie’s true role even if Nina were listening in.

Aggie wasn’t crying, but her gaze went fierce. “I’d never leave if it wasn’t for this, Mr. Donahue. I hope you understand. I would never abandon her. Or you.”

“I would never think that,” Ewan told her.

“I can arrange with the agency to have a replacement sent, but that might seem . . . confusing,” Aggie said. “And no guarantees, of course, that the new person would be as capable. But I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and the pair of you, here alone . . . I’m sorry, Mr. Donahue.”

“We’ll manage to feed ourselves.” It had taken Ewan a long enough time to find help with the credentials and skills he needed, paired with the domestic experience. He knew that wasn’t what Aggie was really worried about. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aggie, I promise you. We’ll be fine. I’ll ramp up the security around the island. Nobody will be able to get to us. And there haven’t been any threats, not even a rumor of anything from Katrinka Dev, and if there was anyone who wanted to try to get to us, it would be related to her.”

Ewan’s team had been monitoring any level of threat against not only him, but also Nina, for months. Despite Katrinka’s fury with him, there’d been nothing to indicate she was doing anything other than trying to beat him to the solution in deactivating the destructive programming. The world trend had moved toward outrage in other quarters. He’d recently also put out scans for anything related to the twelve remaining enhanced soldiers. Eleven, he thought, reminding himself. Now there were only eleven.

“And if Miss Nina has some trouble?”

That was obviously more of a concern, one he did not intend to dismiss. “I have the tracking app installed. I’ll watch her. I’ll be careful.”

Aggie didn’t look relieved. “There’s no way of knowing what might activate the program, Mr. Donahue. And if she does try to harm herself, well. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you’re not as strong as she is. You’ve no medical training. I really think you need to have someone come in.”

He couldn’t disagree with her. “I’ll call Zulik, see if he can come out to give her a checkup. She won’t think that’s odd, and he can stay at least for a short time, until you figure things out.”

“And if I can’t make it back for a while? Or perhaps at all?” Aggie asked, lifting her chin, her voice trembling.

Ewan reached for her hands and squeezed them both. “We’ll worry about that when we have to worry about it.”

Aggie nodded and swiped at her eyes before looking at him again. “I take great pride in my professionalism, Mr. Donahue. I want that to be very clear.”

“But this is your son. You have to go. We’ll be all right.” Ewan gave her hands another squeeze before he pulled up a menu on his screen and tapped in some commands. “I’ve arranged for the airtranspo to take you to the mainland, where another transpo will be waiting to pick you up and take you to wherever you need to go. I’ve transferred some additional travel funds—”

“No.” Aggie shook her head vehemently, sounding shocked. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ewan shook his head. “I want to. You’ve worked for me for almost a year without taking any time off—”

“That was the assignment,” Aggie interrupted.

“Even so,” Ewan continued, “you’ve performed above and beyond. Let me do this for you.”

Aggie’s eyes glinted, and she gave him a broad, if somewhat watery grin. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But I still don’t feel right, leaving the two of you behind. You hired me and Jerome to make sure Nina was taken care of, make sure she was kept safe. And I don’t mind telling you, Mr. Donahue, I’ve grown very fond of her over the past few months. If you could get the doc here sooner, I could possibly wait . . .”

“Absolutely not. Your son is hurt, and you need to be there. I could never in good conscience ask you to stay even a minute longer than necessary. I will take care of Nina,” he added quietly. “I might not be as good of a cook as you, but I won’t let her starve. And I will keep her safe. I love her more than anything in the world, Aggie.”

“I know you do. I’m going to pack my bag. Jerome is ready.” She hugged him hard and excused herself, but turned back to add, “She’ll remember you soon. I know she will.”

Ewan wished he had the same confidence that she did. The conversation he’d had with Nina, the one Aggie had interrupted, weighed on him. Once again, he’d found himself keeping the truth from her, and once again, he’d convinced himself it was for her safety and well-being. Would Nina think so, though? Ewan doubted it.

Did she . . . love you?

She did.

Does she still?

I don’t think so.

Maybe she could again, if you had the chance to make things right with her.

“I’m doing the best I can,” Ewan said softly, aloud, but was this his best, or some half-assed attempt at doing what was right because he was too afraid of what she might do if she knew everything?

He wanted Nina to remember, he told himself as he tapped in a message to Zulik, asking the doc to get in touch with him immediately. Ewan wanted Nina to know who she was, and who he was, and what they had been together . . . yes, even if it meant she remembered that she had every reason and right to hate him.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that because she wanted to kiss him that meant anything more than a physical attraction. It had been nearly impossible to turn her down. Touching her, tasting her, all of that had been a small taste of the heaven he’d had and lost. He could not take advantage of her in that way, though. Not without hating himself forever.

He hadn’t meant to make her think there was another woman in his life, though. Her question had surprised him into an answer that had been based in truth but layered with lies, and now he was tangled up in all of it. No way to take it back or change what he’d said.

Ewan rubbed at his eyes until a soft knock came at the doorway. It was Nina. She looked worried.

“Is Aggie’s son going to be all right?”

“I don’t know yet. She and Jerome are going to be leaving on the airtranspo as soon as they can.”

Nina nodded, her expression still concerned. “I’ll go see if I can help her with anything.”

“Good, of course. Nina,” he called after her. Only when she turned back did he realize he wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say. He blurted the next words. “If you want to go with them . . .”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.

Relief rippled through him, although he tried not to show it. He hadn’t yet heard from Zulik, so he wasn’t going to tell her that he’d asked the doc to visit. “Once the airtranspo leaves, you know it has a minimum three-day turnaround for flight clearance and refitting before it can get back here.”

“I know. I don’t want to leave.” She looked embarrassed. “I still feel anxious about that. The stairs don’t freak me out anymore, but leaving does. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Nina. You know you can stay here as long as you have to.”

She looked as though she meant to say more to that, but only pressed her lips together and nodded, then left him alone. Just in time, because Ewan’s personal comm pinged with a viddy call from Zulik. He got up to shut the door behind her so he could answer it. Quickly, Ewan laid out the situation.

“I’ll have to reschedule things, but yes. I could take your airtranspo back and spend a few days on the island with our patient.” Zulik eyed him. “If anything should happen, I would be there to help. But you know that it’s also possible I could do nothing.”

“That’s been true all along,” Ewan said.

“What else is going on? She’s remembering things. Has she had another breakthrough?”

Ewan paused, not wanting to share the intimate details of the kisses Nina had offered him, but knowing he shouldn’t keep secrets from the doc. He told the story quickly, as dispassionately as possible. He made sure to make it clear that he’d done his best not to take advantage of it.

Zulik didn’t seem impressed with Ewan’s self-control. “You know that your relationship with her is likely to be an enormous trigger. It could be devastating. It could be fatal.”

“I know that,” Ewan snapped. “But damn it all, Doc, anything could. Everything could.”

Ewan told the doc about the success of helping her face her fear of the stairs and falling. Midway through, Zulik was pursing his lips and shaking his head. He held up a hand before Ewan could finish.

“She didn’t fall down the stairs to begin with. That’s something she was led to believe to keep her from knowing the truth. She was afraid of a lie, Donahue. While it’s wonderful that you helped her face the stairs and that it relieved her fears, nothing in her would be activated by that, because she never fell down them in the first place.”

Frustrated, Ewan scowled, but it wasn’t the doc’s fault. Before he could say anything, Zulik continued.

“Katrinka Dev’s team has come up with something.”

“What? I hadn’t heard anything—”

Zulik held up a hand again, effectively cutting Ewan off. “She used Article 757 to try it on her son. He almost died. I was one of the team they called in.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Zulik said grimly. “Barely. There’s no way to tell if she was able to remove the self-termination programming. He was reset, but physically he’d been so brutalized by his own actions that it will be weeks before he’ll even approach enough of a recovery to find out how the new programming works.”

Ewan frowned. “My team is close, but they haven’t found anything yet that we can be confident using on anyone.”

“Might be time to paint some of your morals in shades of gray,” Zulik said. “Before you run out of time.”

Ewan thought of Al’s offer, but shook his head. “I invented the tech to help people. I can’t just risk the health and lives of all those soldiers because I wanted to rush something that’s supposed to help them. If I’d been the one to create that excremental self-termination program in the first place, I could do more, but I wasn’t. We’re doing the best we can. We have to do this right, Doc, or it’s not going to be worth doing at all.”

Zulik nodded with a sigh. “It’s going to take me a day or so to wrap up things here.”

“I’ve arranged to get you to my private airtranspo. It’s scheduled to return to the island in three days,” Ewan said.

“I’ll be on it.”