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“The girl shot him when he lifted the gun to you.” He looks upward before nodding a few times. “She saved you. Probably saved me too. Because he only got one bullet into you before she lit his ass up and dropped him where he stood.” Pushing off the wall, he comes beside me, gripping my shoulder. “And then she helped me carry your huge ass out of that place. I mean, I blacked out just before we got out of the house, but before I did, I was lugging you, and she was at your feet, helping.” His lip turns up. “Girl’s a hero. And damn fucking brave.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Dove shot Enzo?”
“She sure did.” He nods. “And she didn’t even flinch.”
Being an agent, I’ve killed, and I’ve watched others kill. It’s something I’ve had to become immune to because it’s part of the job. It comes with the territory. But Briar James didn’t sign up for that. And yet she stepped in when she needed to and saved my fucking life.
“Enzo might have gotten the easy way out of his punishment, but his father, along with many others, are going to rot in prison until they die,” Rossi assures me. “We got everything we needed. It’s over.”
“And Beckett?” I ask, raising a brow. “What happens to him?”
“Believe it or not, he’s been incredibly cooperative. Apparently, when the units left the United States to head to Vittoria Island, he was asked to provide any information he had. And he came forward with a lot.” He shrugs. “He’s not the best person, but Vittoria Island wasn’t his deal.”
I attempt to sit up straighter in bed, but it fucking hurts my entire body, and I cringe like a little bitch. When Rossi sees this, he moves forward, helping me upright myself, which annoys me more because I hate needing help from anyone.
“So, what?” I ask once I’m situated and Rossi is seated in the chair beside my bed. “He traded his niece for connections, has been illegally bringing drugs from Italy into the States and selling them, and he just gets to walk away? That’s fucking stupid.”
Rossi’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “What? No. Fuck no, man.” He shakes his head quickly. “He’s going to prison—for a long time. But as far as Vittoria Island goes? He wasn’t involved.”
“All right.” I exhale, content with his answer because even if that motherfucker wasn’t an active member of the sex-worker island, he’s done enough bad shit in his life that he should be behind bars. For a long, long fucking time.
His expression grows somber, and he runs his fingers over his chin. “It was an honor working this mission with you, Hale. And if I had to choose a last job before I get the fuck out of this shit, this was it.”
I jerk my gaze to his. “You’re done?”
He wrings his hands together. “Yeah, man. I’ve got too much to lose back home. I’ve had enough adventures to last me an entire fucking lifetime. It’s time for me to hang it up. While I still can.”
Pushing my head back on the cushion, I blink a few times. Rossi has been the closest friend I’ve ever worked with. I’ve known the guy for a long damn time. And if he’s leaving, it doesn’t feel right to stay without him. But I’m not quite ready to make that call. Not yet anyway.
Holding his fist out, he bumps it against mine. “Glad you’re alive, Hale. Next step: let’s get the hell out of here and back to US soil.”
I smile because that sounds so damn good right about now. “You aren’t kidding.”
We’re about to land, and Briar’s eyes are squeezed shut, just like they were during takeoff this morning. The closer we get to touching down, the more her knee bounces.
“Nervous, Dove?” I murmur, leaning my head closer to hers and kissing the side of her head.
“No, not at all.” She gulps. “It’s just … what if we survived you getting shot and a fire, only for this plane to crash during landing, and then we both die?” The words rush from her lips, and her eyes stay closed. “That would suck, wouldn’t it?”
“Fuck yeah, it would.” I try not to chuckle before I take her hand in mine. “Open your eyes.”
She doesn’t, so I have to say it again. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
Slowly, her eyes open, but only to slits.
“Look at me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she peeks at me. “What?”
“We’re fine,” I assure her, strumming my thumb along her cheekbone. “In a few minutes, we’re going to land and finally go home.”
“I don’t even have a home.” She pouts. “I’m not going back to Beckett’s, even if he’s not there.”
“You can stay with me at my apartment. We’ll figure it out,” I tell her.
My apartment—where I’ve stayed to avoid the house I shared with Cami—is in Atlanta. It’s not my dream location, but until we figure out what the hell we’re going to do from here, it’ll work.
And best of all, it’s safe.
