Emily dragged herself from the recesses of a dark dream. Images of Ahmed blurred with images of Tim, only to be obliterated by the recurring nightmare of heat, explosive devices, and helplessness. In the early days of posttraumatic stress, she’d see Sandra’s face in a crowd. Random bouts of crazy-ass, which had eventually stopped.

Had she really seen Tim yesterday? That face in the crowd. It couldn’t have been possible.

The dreams were a direct result of this assignment. But she’d learned how to control the fear upon waking, and after all this time, the dreams didn’t seem so bad anymore. The real questions was, what was she doing here? In a way, she felt like she was standing in front of this overgrown decision monster. Which way would she go, staying in this business with a company like Hawk Elite? Or leaving altogether, like she’d done two years ago?

Taking a deep breath and staying still, she took account of her person—no drool, only a vague kink in her neck…maybe a line or two on her face. She ran a hand through her hair and stretched her arms up over her head. Nerves racked her stomach, but she accepted them for what they were: a sign of vigilance.

The masculine scent of John’s deodorant mixed with the light fragrance of his clothing had her opening her eyes. The scent of coffee made her groan, and she opened her eyes. “Oh,” she squeaked.

John leaned into her space, a light in his pretty gray eyes that spoke of way more than was appropriate for an airplane. But she’d seen that light before when they’d kissed. And this time, it sent the same hum of desire through her.

“Feeling better?”

With a nod, she almost leaned in to kiss him, but at the last minute, remembered they were surrounded by their teammates. “How long was I sleeping?”

“About eight hours.”

Shocked, she sat up straight. “What? You let me sleep eight hours?”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“My entire system is going to be completely out of whack.” She groaned. “Next time, have a heart, John.”

“You’ll be fine in a day or two—besides, I slept too. Your dreaming woke me up. Coffee?”

“God, yes. Thank you.” Taking the cup he offered, she gave him a smile.

He handed off a red folder as well, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she set the mug down to open it.

The team was listed on the first page, each one partnered with another. “We’re paired.”

“Hawk always pairs a woman with a man when we’re in the Middle East.”

She nodded.

“We acquired Hassan’s location.”

Emily inhaled and let that bit of information sink in. “Okay. That’s half the battle, right?”

“It helps us make plans, yes.”

She’d recognized Hawk’s team as a well-oiled machine. And as she scanned the folder with detail after detail, put together more like an operation order, her nerves settled. There were maps of the city, and she looked them over, noting the different markings. A big black X marked a building on the northwest side of the city, outside the limits. “X marks the spot?”

He laughed. “Yes, long story, involving Hawk’s oldest son.”

She liked so much about this company, especially that it included families, but it was the main reason staying was becoming so unlikely. A job like hers had left her vulnerable and despised. If anyone at Hawk Elite came under fire over her…she wasn’t sure she could take it.

“There’s a ninety-nine percent chance this is about you,” John said. He covered her hands, which were doing the weird fidgeting again. “It’s about what happened when your name was leaked to the press. Hassan has been waiting for this opportunity. And now he’s used Marcus to get you where he wants you.”

A sharp pain in her lip focused her. His thumb on her sore lip startled her.

“Keep your head covered. That hair is a dead giveaway. Stay close to me.”

She wanted to laugh. “That simplifies things well beyond what’s in this folder.”

“Sometimes simple works best for staying alive.”

Before, it had only been her life at stake.

Now she had an entire team at her back. More than anything else in two years, that scared the shit out of her.

* * *

The flight from Germany set them down outside Doha at the butt crack of dawn. Emily leaned in as Marie showed her the little bracelet on her left hand. It had several charms, all of which were somehow unique to her family.

“This one is from my great-grandmother. She claimed it is from royalty, but my mother would roll her eyes whenever the stories started. So I don’t know. See the sapphire?”

“Oh, it’s so pretty, and what a unique cut.”

It was the most Marie had spoken to her in the month they’d known each other. Emily had to wonder if it was the desire to avoid Malcolm that was causing this friendly streak.

“Is he bothering you?”

“What?” Marie looked at her, eyes wide, as she cleared her throat. “No, no. I mean, no.”

Emily frowned. She knew Hawk tolerated no harassment at all, but sometimes men—people—didn’t know boundaries. “If you ever need a go-between, I’m your girl. You got it?”

Marie laughed nervously. “I’m fine, really…” Her voice faded as Malcolm came toward them, and she went completely tense.

Emily scowled up at Malcolm, who then hesitated, cleared his throat, and kept going toward the galley. Good. “If he ever bothers you, you tell me right away. I’ll take care of him for you.”

Her new friend assessed her. They were a funny pair. Marie was so short and tiny. Emily was a giant in comparison. But she liked the woman who always seemed to be wearing a long, flowing skirt and black boots. “I love your hair, by the way. I know it’s typical female behavior, but I’ve always wished my hair was dark and mysterious. I think it’s one of the reasons I kept shooting after my stepdad introduced me. Flipping Sandra Dee, right?”

Marie snorted. “I think I like you, Emily.”

Emily beamed.

Then the plane began that slow descent, the engines changing gears, the sound warning them of the coming landing. In her peripheral, Emily could see John sitting back in his seat, so she moved that way and sat down next to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, but there was a quality in his voice, and when the plane’s noise changed again, John gripped the armrest under his right hand.

Emily lifted a brow. “John?”

“I’m fine. Be over soon.” The plane was barely on the ground before John was out of his seat, leaning over his knees. His breathing came out harshly and then was sucked back in. He stood that way while the plane taxied.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong with him?” Emily said, looking to the other men on the team. Why were they sitting there? She placed her hand on his back, which was damp with sweat and tight with tension.

“He has a problem with landing,” Tancredo said, as if it was nothing odd.

The plane rolled to a stop at the gate, and John stood straight and tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m fine now.”

“Fine?” She looked up into the face she thought she knew—no-fear, strong John Vega. “Yeah, because we’re all doing what you’re doing, bent over at the waist, huffing recycled air.”

John chuckled, but he did look better. His face wasn’t so pale and he was breathing normally. He’d scared her. And that was a first. Now that she thought of it, she’d had a fairly decent, girly conversation with Marie, too. Two firsts. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“I guess lots of people don’t like to fly,” she stated matter-of-factly.

John focused on her, and for the life of her, she couldn’t read him. “I’ve got no problem flying.”

“Right. The landing?”

“It’s a quirk.”

“He took a ride in his daddy’s crop duster once—”

John sent Tancredo a dirty look. Emily looked from one to the other, and when John didn’t continue, Tancredo picked up the storyline. “See, he was a kid, and his oldest brother was…what? Thirteen?”

John rolled his eyes. “Twelve. And he knew how to fly,” John said. “My dad had been giving him lessons. Back then, in those parts—”

“The boonies,” Bobby added.

“—we all worked the place, the ranch. By the time I was ten, I knew how to plow a field and could run the machinery like any of the farm hands. Anyway, Michael hadn’t quite gotten the hang of landing yet. So our little trip down didn’t end as gloriously as our trip up.”

“Aww.” Emily’s heart melted as she imagined John as a little blond boy, stuck in a plane with his big brother. “How long was it before you flew again?”

A blush rose on his neck at her obviously emotional response. “This is why I don’t share these stories.”

“Why? Because you don’t want the girls going gaga over you?” She blinked innocently up at him, making him grin and roll his eyes again. She liked him like that, easy on his feet, a little jovial, at ease. “How long?” she asked again.

“Eighteen years.”

“Wow. What made you go back up?”

“The United States Army.”

“We’re ready to disembark,” Hawk called from the front of the plane. “Gather your gear. We’ve got two suites at Les Roses apartment complex. Men in one, women in the other.”

John made a sound of protest.

“We play nice for now,” Hawk said with a raised hand. “Men are on the outside of the building; women to the inside. Ladies, keep your heads covered. Stay paired up with one of the guys when you’re out on the streets. And never, never be out after curfew.”

He looked pointedly at Marie and Emily, making her nervous, making those misgivings about coming to this country flare up. Next to her, John rested his elbow on her shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship, yet it also sent the best feeling through her, reminding her that they were friends. He’d become her friend. She really wanted to be his lover. Yet, at the same time, their slow pace kept her guessing, made her feel safe. She like that, too.

Looking up into John’s eyes, she saw worry that was followed closely by that heat that happened when they were close. Her grin defused the tension of the moment as she said, “Yes, sir.”

The small runway for private flights, used mostly for the oil magnates of the surrounding countries, sat a quarter of a mile from the terminals. Stepping out of the plane and into fresh air made her weak in the knees. She took a deep breath, not even caring that the heat—even at this early hour—could suck the life from a camel. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she pulled the dark shawl over her head, wrapped her length of hair in it, and twisted into a knot so that it wasn’t blanketing her shoulders and overheating her. Marie did the same.

The material was light enough to breathe. And Emily let the comfort of anonymity push her spirits all the way to grateful. The team moved to the rear of the plane and created an assembly line to move the baggage from the belly of the plane to the shuttle Hawk had procured during the flight.

When she tried to join the line, John ignored her, elbowing her back out of the way. She gave him a dirty look.

“Hey,” he said. “My mama taught me to hold doors for women.”

She narrowed her eyes, took the duffel with a jerk, and handed it off to Craig.

“Yeee-up,” Craig called out in his Southern accent as the bag was passed to Tancredo’s hand and then into the back of the shuttle. When the last bag was stowed away, they climbed in. John went up first and held out a hand. She took it. After hearing about his mom, how could she not? There was courtesy and respect. She could appreciate that in any man. “I’ll have to thank your mother.”

“Yes.” His eyes lit up at the suggestion. “You are definitely going to have to do that when you come back.”

She stopped short before sitting on of the long benches. She’d left, not knowing if going back was a good idea. Not that she didn’t want to. Lord have mercy, she was so tempted. But then there was her home on the coast…and Eddie. Her burned-out shell of a coffee shop she’d have to go back to…

She would, wouldn’t she?

Sitting, she rested her head against the side and closed her eyes. “We’ll see.” God, what was she doing? Better to say no. No! None of this flirting—teasing, maybe. If there was one thing she’d learned in Idaho, it was that he would want a wife, a family.

She was not wife material. Not family material. When she was around, people were in danger.

Sandra. Callie. Marcus.

No way was she going to start something that could end so horribly—for herself, a partner…kids? Geez. Kids. Where had that thought come from?

After stowing his pack under the bench, John sat next to her. She forced herself to sit still when everything in her was screaming to put space between them. They’d turned into the couple.

Part of her didn’t care. She felt like her time in this spot with him was limited, and every hour counted. Because once this assignment was over, once Hassan was captured—or dead.

She was now coming to realize…

This wasn’t the life for her anymore. And when she left again, she would be leaving Hawk Elite.

And John. Emily leaned into his solid frame, and he lifted his arm so she could move closer. Then he turned his head and said softly into her ear, “You okay?”

She nodded, took a deep breath, inhaled the scent of him, and rested her arm across his waist.

There would be so little time to relax and refresh once they got to the apartment. But for the first time in weeks, for the first time since John had walked into her café, she felt certainty in her soul.

She had a goal, a place, a purpose, which didn’t fit into his world. If having peace meant getting over the sadness of losing him, she was going to do it, because it had been too long since peace rested in her soul.

No regret.

No guilt.

No looking over her shoulder anymore.

Maybe it was even time to sell her guns.