SHE’D MADE HER CHOICE. Emily wiped a tear from her eye and kept on walking to her car, her back stiff and her chin up. She would do this thing, join Ian Black and his mercenaries for an important mission, and she would make a difference in this world. She spoke Arabic, particularly the Qu’rimi dialect, and she still knew people who had associated with Zaran.

She had a chance to put things right, to stop the Freedom Force from terrorizing innocent people, and she’d get her life back. No more government watch lists. No more no-fly. No more suspicions and mistrust.

Ian Black had promised. All she had to do was leave her life behind for the next few months and go to Acamar where a radical Freedom Force cell was gaining strength. He wanted her help to infiltrate and spy on the group. To do that, she’d need to use all her knowledge of their tactics and structure.

When it was over, she’d be free. But for now she had to leave everything behind and return to the desert. It wasn’t the desert of Qu’rim, but it was close since Acamar shared a border with Qu’rim.

She just hoped Ryan and Victoria would understand. Those were the two people she cared about, the two she didn’t want to disappoint.

Emily drove home and went into her bedroom where the empty carry-on suitcase she’d dragged out earlier lay. Her heart thumped. Tomorrow she was gone. In the morning she would walk out of this apartment and drive to Dulles where she’d meet Ian. Then it was a plane to Paris. She didn’t know how he was going to get her onto a plane, even a private plane, since she still had to pass through TSA security checks, but he’d assured her it was possible.

Emily packed her summer gear. She’d left the abayas behind when she’d left Qu’rim, but she was going to have to start wearing them again. When she finished packing, she turned on CNN International and watched the news. She’d avoided it when she’d first returned. She hadn’t wanted to see the videos of terrorists beheading innocent civilians, hadn’t wanted to think that people like that existed, though she knew they did.

The Freedom Force didn’t behead tourists. Yet. If they thought it would benefit them in some way, they certainly would. That much she knew.

Emily set the suitcase by the door and sank down on the bed to scrub her hands over her arms. She was chilled even though she wore a sweatshirt and jeans. She should get ready for bed, but there was no way she would sleep tonight.

She picked up her phone and clicked on her text messages. It hit her that Ryan was the one who usually left and went silent, but this time it would be her. And the thought of not seeing him again punched her in the throat and stole her breath.

Because it was possible she might not make it out alive. Possible this mission would go wrong and she’d be the one who didn’t come home again.

She dropped the phone and pulled her hands over her face. She couldn’t leave like this. Not without seeing him one more time. Not without touching him. It was selfish of her, she knew that, but it was also somehow necessary.

Emily grabbed her keys, picked up the suitcase, and hurried out the door. She drove into Maryland, her heart in her throat the entire way. What would she say when she got there? What would she do?

She didn’t precisely know, but she knew she had to go to him.

When she pulled into the apartment complex where he lived, she sat with her hands on the wheel, staring at his apartment. He was on the ground floor. Number 112. She’d never been here before, but she knew.

Emily turned off the car and got out, locking it and then wiping her hands down her jeans. Her palms were moist even though it was winter. Her heart hammered as she walked into the narrow corridor between apartments. She stood at his door for a long minute, her breath frosting in the night air, before she summoned her courage and rapped on the metal.

She didn’t hear any movement, but then the door whipped open and Ryan stood there in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. His chest was bare, the hard muscles smooth and tanned and very, very defined. He was sweating, which told her he’d probably been working out. Tattoos ran down one arm, a mix of tribal decorations that she’d only ever partially seen before.

He didn’t look surprised to see her, but then she knew he never would have opened the door without knowing precisely who stood on the other side.

Emily swallowed. She felt very small and very out of her element at that moment.

“What happened?” Ryan demanded. “Did that Caleb guy do something? Why didn’t you text me?”

She shook her head and shivered. “No, nothing happened. I just… I had to see you.”

She shrugged helplessly, and Ryan’s eyes softened. He swore, but then he stepped back and motioned her inside. Not before his eyes skimmed the surroundings though.

Emily walked into his apartment, hugging herself tight. The furniture was sparse, but that didn’t surprise her. She didn’t know why, but after so many months of talking to him on the phone, texting him, she felt like she knew who he was.

And who he was wasn’t very concerned about decor.

He crossed his arms and stood as far from her as he could get without leaving the room. Her courage faltered as his expression remained unchanged.

“You’ve never done this before, Emily. What’s going on?”

She sank onto the edge of his couch, deflated a little now that she was here. “I missed you, Ry. I told you that. And seeing you at the bar, not being able to touch you if I wanted to… it kills me.”

She’d never said anything like that to him before, and his expression was a mix of shock and regret. Did he want to be able to touch her too? God, she hoped so.

“Emily.” He shoved a hand through his hair. The ends stood up because his hair was damp. On someone else it would have looked ridiculous. On him it was sexy as hell. Everything about him was sexy.

Which scared her, because she hadn’t been with a man in a very long time. Zaran had lost interest at a certain point. No, not precisely lost interest. He’d had to keep himself clean and pure, he’d said. And since she wasn’t able to give him a child, there had been no point in continuing to sully himself.

Sully himself. As if she were a pool of mud or blood or some other unspeakable substance.

She bowed her head to get hold of herself again. Ryan was there, kneeling on the floor beside her, his hand going beneath her chin and forcing her to look at him.

He had pale blue eyes that reminded her of a wolf sometimes, but not now. Not when they were soft and worried like this.

His mouth was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his lips full and kissable, the top lip slightly less full than the bottom. And there was a dip in that lip, a sexy little dip where she could put her tongue if he were hers.

How many lucky women had kissed Ryan Gordon and sucked on that lip before? Oh, she didn’t want to know. Hot jealousy speared her at the thought.

“You can tell me,” he said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Haven’t I been a good friend?”

She nodded. And then she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. His eyes darkened for a second, or maybe she’d imagined it. But there was a fire in her fingertips, a fire that raced through her body and lit up nerve endings she’d thought were dead.

“I want you to kiss me, Ry. Please kiss me.”

He didn’t pull away, but this time the look in his eyes was panic. She didn’t mistake that for one second. His grip on her chin tightened a little.

“Emily, don’t ask that of me. Please don’t ask it.”

She dragged in a breath. “Am I that unattractive? That repulsive?”

She feared she was, even if it was an irrational fear. The mirror told another tale, but maybe there was something else. Something she couldn’t fix no matter how hard she tried.

“Repulsive? God, no. You’re the most beautiful woman I know. How could you think that for even a second?”

She laughed without humor. “Forgive me for having a hard time with this, but I asked you to kiss me and you acted like I wanted you to eat a worm or something.”

He cupped her face in both his hands, his broad palms warm against her cheeks. She couldn’t help but sigh. And shiver, because need was a strong drumbeat in her core right now. She didn’t know if she could let him do more than kiss her, but she wanted him to.

“I can think of nothing I’d rather do than kiss you,” he said fiercely. “But it would change everything if I did.”

“Maybe I want it to change.” She closed her eyes. “Wait, no. I know better. I know we could never date like normal people. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job because of me. And you would, I know that. I’m persona non grata. Just hanging out with you guys like I did tonight is bad, but Colonel Mendez makes that much possible. I don’t know how, but I know he does. If it weren’t for him, I’d have never seen any of you again after Qu’rim.”

Ryan swallowed. “The colonel is a powerful man. More powerful than some generals I can think of, which is good for us. But he can only do so much.”

“I know. I’m grateful for the life I have… but I want more.” She hesitated for a long moment. And then she blurted out the truth. “Just once, I want you. I missed you so much.”

He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. They were still, silent. She smelled the warmth of his skin, felt the soft exhalations of his breath, and her heart ached.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for a very long time. Just touch you.”

The ball of emotion in her chest hurt. “Then touch me. Touch me the way you want. If I’m ever going to be with anyone again…” She gulped. “I don’t know that I can, quite honestly. But if there’s a chance, it’s with you.”

Zaran hadn’t raped her, but he’d taken delight in physically punishing her the deeper he sank into his mania. She’d trusted him once, and he’d betrayed that trust. He’d turned into someone completely different from the kind, sweet young Muslim man he’d been when they’d met in New Orleans. It still filled her with anguish to think about the man he used to be.

She’d killed Zaran in self-defense—but he’d killed the Zaran she’d fallen for long before that day. She’d been a widow for years before she’d become a widow in truth.

Ryan sucked in a breath. And then he let her go abruptly and stood. Her heart sank.

“I’m going to shower and change.” He picked up a remote and handed it to her. “Watch something if you like. We’ll talk when I’m done, okay?”

She took the remote, but she didn’t turn on the television. Instead, she watched him walk into his room and shut the door. She thought about leaving. She couldn’t do it. This was the last time she’d see him, maybe forever, and she wasn’t walking out of here without at least one kiss.

Emily finally turned on the television and flipped to the news. A reporter talked about the growing radicalism of the Islamic splinter groups in the Middle East. Her heart skipped and her pulse throbbed as a video of a Qu’rimi militant with a balaclava on his head and an assault rifle in his hand gesticulated to a video camera.

Death to the American infidels. Death to Western capitalism. We will find you and we will crush you. You are not safe. We will not rest until we have killed every American on this earth. We will not rest.

It was the same rhetoric as always, but it chilled her nonetheless. She’d heard it preached in the camps, and she’d heard them plan assaults against civilian targets as a means of inspiring terror and change.

But that kind of assault didn’t lead to change. It led to war and death.

Emily turned off the television and fell back against the cushions. The reality of what was about to happen to her life hit her. She’d agreed to go back, to be a part of that world again. The madness and fear she’d despised would be part of her daily existence once more.

She put her hands over her face and sat there, breathing deeply and praying that when morning came, she would still have the strength to join Ian Black.

She could back out. She knew that. She could simply go back home, unpack, and go about her life.

But it was half a life, wasn’t it? No matter how hard she worked or how good she was, the damage she’d done when she’d married Zaran would be with her for the rest of her days. No man would ever want her when they understood she couldn’t even go on a fucking cruise to the Caribbean, much less fly to Paris for the trip of a lifetime. How did you explain those things to a potential partner?

No, she wasn’t backing out. She wasn’t giving up this chance to make things right again. It was one mission. One critical mission. She could do this, and then she’d be back home and maybe everything would be better than ever.

She heard the shower turn on. She pictured the spray, pictured Ryan standing beneath it, his body tanned and hard. She pictured herself there, imagined running her hands over his muscles, imagined him kissing her, sliding inside her, taking her to heaven.

Emily stood and walked toward the bedroom.