28

Washington, DC
5:23 PM Monday, January 19

“My first broken bone,” Brynn said when Jack climbed into the driver’s seat of the Tahoe. She glanced down at her wrapped arm and shook her head. “At least I have a good story.”

Jack started the SUV and drove out of Washington General’s parking lot at a snail’s pace. After the ambulance had dropped her off at the hospital, she was grateful when he had arrived but noticed he was quiet and a little distant.

Brynn stared out the window. The weather had finally cooperated with the forecasts, and DC was sitting beneath almost six inches of snow, with more predicted to come overnight. A few brave souls were walking, or rather trudging, through the snow, not seeming to mind the cold temperature. A shiver ran down her arm, and she rubbed it away.

“I told the doctor I threw a kid into a ditch to save his life.”

Jack barely smiled before he asked, “Do you have something to eat at home? We can run into a store or a restaurant and grab you some food before I drop you off.”

“Drop me off?” Brynn frowned. “Aren’t we going back to the office? We need to figure out—”

“You need to go home, B. Rest. Heal your arm.” He cast a look her way. “The team and I will continue to work on the case while you take some time off.”

An ugly feeling coiled in her stomach. Her gaze dropped to her arm again. A broken elbow. After the doctor read her X-ray to her, she fought to control the tears of frustration. The last thing she needed was a broken bone. Another setback.

“I don’t need any time off. The doctor said as long as I keep my arm in the sling and limit my activity . . .” She made a face, realizing that in the last week she’d been to the hospital three times. “It’s only a hairline fracture, Jack. A broken bone is much better than the alternative.”

“The alternative is all I can think about, Brynn.” His gaze snapped to her. “You’re in a cast because a van almost mowed you down in the middle of the street today. Last week you were almost killed in an explosion hours after fighting off someone who may or may not have come to America as part of some terrorist plot. Oh, and let’s not forget about the poisoning that nearly stopped your heart.”

“When you put it that way.” Brynn wrinkled her nose at him, wanting to lighten the mood. “And to be accurate, you broke my arm.”

“It’s not a joke, Brynn.”

“I know it’s not.” Instinct caused her to lift her left arm, and she winced at the sharp jolt of pain. Oh, good gracious that hurt. Through steady breaths, she managed to say, “Time is running out, and I still have a job to do.”

“At what cost, Brynn?” Jack asked, his exasperation thick. “I’ve seen the lengths you’ll go to for your job. It’s not healthy, B.”

“If you know the lengths I’ll go for my job, then you’ll know if you take me home, I’m just going to get an Uber back to the office. You’ll save us both a lot of time if you just head to the office.”

The muscle in Jack’s jaw flexed a couple of times, the tight line of his lips revealing his frustration. After another minute, he finally shook his head and took the next left toward the office.

Brynn blew out a breath and shifted in her seat, accidentally bumping the middle console with her elbow. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, eyes watering from the pain.

“Does your arm hurt?”

“Yes,” she snapped, angry at how her heart wanted to give in to his tender concern.

“Have you taken your pain medicine?”

“Yes,” she said with force. “At the hospital. I told you, I can—”

“Take care of yourself. I know.” He blew out a long breath, eyes still fixed on the road. “Brynn, I know you want a long career in the CIA. You’ve worked for that and deserve it more than anyone else I know, but I’m concerned about how much you’re willing to sacrifice.”

“I don’t need you lecturing me on risk, Jack.” Raw emotion balled in her throat. “What do you want from me?”

Jack pulled into the underground parking structure of the Acacia Building and parked the Tahoe before turning to her. “I want you to stop giving more of your life away to the terrorists who hurt your family. You’ve allowed yourself to become obsessed to the point of risking your life and everything in it. These last few days with you in the hospital . . . I’m afraid if I don’t do something—”

“What do you mean?”

“Now that Riad’s . . .” He looked at her for a second, swallowed, and then looked away. “The CIA’s involvement in the case has shifted and—”

“What are you talking about?” She spoke over the dryness in her throat. “President Allen is landing or has landed in Egypt. There are still too many variables in this mission that require our involvement.”

“In Egypt, yes,” Jack said before swallowing. “But not here.”

Brynn narrowed her eyes on him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m taking you off the case, Brynn.”

“Taking me off—” Heat flamed her cheeks. Why would Jack do this? If he thought he was helping her, he was dead wrong. “You don’t get to make that decision for me. This is my life. My career. And you had no right to interfere with it or me.”

“Brynn, wait.”

Jack hurried after her, carrying the coat she’d left behind in her rush to get out of the Tahoe or back to work or maybe just away from him. What had he done?

He met her at the elevator and scanned his security card. “Brynn, I’m sorry.”

“No.” She paced in front of him, cradling her arm. “Why would you do this?”

“Please stop, slow down. You’re going to hurt yourse—”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Hudson.” Her eyes grew watery. “I can take care of myself.”

The elevator doors opened, and Brynn walked straight to the back and spun on her heels. Their eyes met, and the pain he saw in hers sent his heart spiraling. Her silent treatment followed them up to the eighth floor.

Jack followed her down the hall, desperately trying to figure out how to fix this when Brynn stopped short of the door to the office. She leaned against the wall, chin tucked, and when he saw her shoulders begin to shake, his heart dropped to his stomach.

He approached her with caution, trying to keep control of his desire to wrap his arms around her. “I know how important your job is to you, B. The last thing I want is for something to happen to you. Last time I checked, I think you need to be alive to serve overseas—if that’s still what you want to do.”

“Jack, I don’t know what I want anymore.” A tear slid down her cheek, and he was quicker than she was at wiping it away, his thumb lingering on the softness of her cheek. “When my dad was injured, all I wanted to do was stop the chaos in my life. Stop terrorists from destroying another family. But look where that’s gotten me. I was so consumed with this calling that I didn’t see my mom wasn’t well. It literally took her dying to force me to spend time with my father. Now I go home to an empty apartment. I have one friend I only see when she’s in town for training, and I might’ve given up the best thing to happen to me because I was afraid of having it ripped from my life.”

Her voice cracked. “It’s like I’ve been holding my breath”—she pressed her hands to her chest—“and I’m scared to release it for fear of what’s coming next. And I’m exhausted. I can’t keep up.”

“No one is asking you to, B.” His heart ached for her. She’d lost so much, and all Jack wanted to do was make it better. “There’s going to be chaos and bad stuff happening in the world, and I believe we’re called to take a stand against it. But when our trust lies in the control we think we have, we’re saying we don’t trust the One who is completely in control and completely good.”

“I wish it were that simple.” She blew out a breath. “My dad, when he was alive, told me I needed to anchor my trust in God, but that’s a lot easier to do when everything is going right.”

He understood her sentiment, especially in light of their careers. “But it’s our faith in the hard times that keeps us anchored in the hope that God will restore order. It’s a choice, Brynn. Choose fear or choose faith, but only one choice will bring peace.”

“I’d really like to have some peace in my life.”

Brynn looked so small and fragile standing next to him, which was the opposite of who she truly was. Strong, vibrant, fiercely independent. And he was in love with all those things, but this vulnerability . . .

He was done.

And a fool.

“I’m sorry. I want you to get everything you’ve worked for and you deserve so much more. I want you to have it all.”

Brynn turned to him so that their bodies were close enough he could breathe in her vanilla fragrance. “What if that includes you?”

Scooting closer, Jack took her right hand into his. Her fingers weaved between his, and it was like an electrical jolt to his heart. “I mean, I’d probably be okay with that.”

“Probably?” Her eyes opened wide, a smirk on her lips. “Way to woo me, Hudson.”

“I never want to stand in the way of your dreams.” He lifted her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, watching her look up at him beneath her long lashes. “But I’d love to be a part of them.”

Brynn slipped her hand from his and brought it to his face, letting the tips of her fingers tickle the scruff on his chin. The touch, her presence, was intoxicating, and he couldn’t resist the pull of desire drawing him toward her.

She moved in, her lips parting, and the exhilaration of anticipation left him feeling a little dizzy. Careful not to disturb her injured arm, he slid his hand around the back of her neck, bringing her close enough that their lips met, brushing—