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Callum stirred awake, his senses gradually sharpening as consciousness returned. The first thing he noticed was warmth—caused by a soft, comforting shape pressed against his body. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself face-to-face with Sloane’s sleeping form, their limbs intertwined on the narrow hotel bed.

Evidently, things had escalated from hand-holding of their own accord sometime during the night.

His breath caught in his throat as he studied her as a man for the first time, rather than as a soldier. She was so close, her gentle breaths tickling his neck. He could count each of her eyelashes, see the faint freckles dusting her nose.

God, she was beautiful.

This was dangerous territory. He shouldn’t be thinking about how perfectly she fit against him or how much he wanted to trace the curve of her cheek with his fingertips.

How much he wanted to kiss her. If only to chase away the demons for a little while.

But that wasn’t going to happen. He was too damned old for her. Too set in his ways. Too fucking cranky. Not to mention, she’d been through hell.

And he couldn’t help but marvel at her strength. The way she’d put one foot in front of the other for miles, not once protesting? He knew soldiers who had in-depth physical and mental training who wouldn’t have held it together as well as she had.

But her sobbing last night in the shower had nearly broken him. Even now, his chest constricted with the need to comfort her.

He’d stood there, feeling utterly useless when he’d asked if she was okay. It would’ve been totally understandable if she’d wanted to lean on his strength or, like Marissa, had used her situation to get attention. But Sloane had had her breakdown in private.

She struck him as someone who had to lean on herself way too much, to the point where she had it down to a science.

Maybe it was for the best. It had been so long since he’d needed to provide any kind of emotional support for a woman that he wasn’t sure he could do it anyway. Plus, what was he supposed to say? What could he possibly do to ease the fear and trauma she must be experiencing?

But when she’d finally emerged from that shower, eyes red-rimmed and smile heartbreakingly fragile, it had been all he could do not to pull her into his arms right then. Instead, he’d simply nodded, acutely aware of his own inadequacy in that moment.

Now, looking at her peaceful face, he was struck by how young she truly was. How much life she had ahead of her, assuming they made it out of this mess. She’d been so brave, pushing through exhaustion and fear as they’d trekked for miles yesterday. He’d seen the way her shoulders had slumped, how her feet had dragged, but she’d never complained.

And then that shit about her family? He wished he had Lincoln around to do one of his searches on her and tell Callum everything. But then again, he’d rather Sloane tell him herself. Some things weren’t meant to be read in a report.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he whispered, careful not to wake her.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, unconsciously nuzzling closer to him. His breath hitched, desire and guilt warring within him. He knew he should pull away, maintain some semblance of propriety. But the selfish part of him wanted to savor this moment, to memorize the feel of her in his arms.

Can’t happen, asshole. You’re here to protect her, nothing more.

And yet, here he was, unable to force himself to move away from her. In only twenty-four hours, he felt more for this woman than he had for anyone since Amelia.

Sloane stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. Instead of pulling away as Callum expected, she pressed closer, her body molding to his. Her hand, warm and soft, glided along his arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

He lifted his eyes toward heaven, silently pleading for help.

He held his breath, torn between desire and the need to maintain some semblance of professional distance.

“Sloane,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended.

Her eyes flew open, realization of her movements dawning. She jerked her hand back, a blush staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s all right,” he interrupted, forcing a casual tone. “No harm done.”

She lifted her head, and her gaze traveled over to his, concern flooding her eyes. “Your wounds… Are they hurting? I saw the bandages last night.”

Callum shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “Nothing to worry about. Just a couple of knife slices and a bullet graze. I’ve had worse paper cuts.”

“Let me see,” Sloane insisted, her fingers hovering over his shirt. “You got shot and stabbed. Twice. That doesn’t sound like paper cuts to me.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Callum protested, but he found himself complying anyway. He lifted the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the wounds beneath, which he’d left unwrapped last night—one cut from Jakob, one from the big guy at the cave. His other arm had the burn from the bullet that had grazed him in the tunnel.

Sloane’s breath caught. “Oh, Callum…”

He glanced down at the wounds, trying to see them through her eyes, but to him, they really were superficial at best. He managed a crooked smile. “Occupational hazard. I’ve had much worse. These were just scratches. They don’t even need medical attention. Trust me, I’ve been doing this a long time.”

Her hand came to rest over his heart, and Callum wondered if she could feel how rapidly it was beating. “You could have been killed,” Sloane said softly, her voice tight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“But I wasn’t,” Callum replied, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m right here.”

She nodded, but her eyes remained troubled. When was the last time someone had worried about him like this?

And damn, why couldn’t he stop looking into those blue eyes of hers? If he didn’t get up right now, he was going to do something completely unacceptable.

Like kiss those soft lips so close.

“We should probably get moving,” he said, shifting away and getting out of bed. “We need to make it to Chi?in?u, which is at least a couple hours’ drive from here.”

“What’s in Chi?in?u?”

He looked back over to find her watching him with the slightest bit of hurt in her eyes from his abrupt departure from the bed. It took every bit of will not to sit down again and yank her back into his arms.

“It’s the capital, which means there’s a US embassy. Once we get to the embassy, we can sort out passports, airline tickets—everything we need to get you home safe.”

“Right,” Sloane agreed, her voice small. “Of course. To get home.”

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand to help her up.

She took it, her fingers resting on his. He held on for just a moment longer than necessary.

Damn it. Why couldn’t he stop touching this woman?

“Ready,” she confirmed, determination once again shining in those remarkable blue eyes.

A few minutes later, they’d cleaned up as best they could, left the room key on the table, and he was leading them out of the room and back out onto the street. A short while after that, they were standing in front of a parking lot connected to multiple shops.

“We need wheels,” he muttered, guiding Sloane toward a beat-up sedan parked on the street rather than the lot. “That one’ll do.”

They made it over to the car, and he glanced around furtively before trying the door handle. To his surprise, it opened.

“Lucky break.” He grinned at Sloane, who raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not actually going to?—”

“Repurpose a seemingly abandoned vehicle that is impeding the flow of commuter traffic?” Callum finished with a grin, already reaching under the steering column. “Beats walking.”

Sloane sighed but slid into the passenger seat. “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

As sparks flew, Callum caught movement in his peripheral vision. A man exited the hardware store, looking directly at them. Callum’s muscles tensed, ready for confrontation. Did he recognize them? Maybe work for the Kozaks?

“Sloane,” he said quietly, “if I say run, you run. Got it?”

She nodded, fear visible on her face.

But the man simply continued walking, disappearing around a corner. Callum let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The engine roared to life.

“We’re good,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “But let’s get moving.”

The drive to Chi?in?u was mostly silent, both lost in their thoughts and keeping a watchful eye out for being followed. They stopped briefly to get breakfast, but by noon, they were arriving into the city.

“Not long now,” Callum said. As the traffic picked up, he actually relaxed more. The more cars, the more they blended in. “You must be looking forward to getting home, huh?”

Sloane’s response was hesitant. “I’m glad this nightmare is almost over, but…home isn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy place for me.”

He had so many questions about her family life, especially after what she’d told him last night, and the fact that William Getty hadn’t been negotiating for the release of both his daughters at the same time.

“Yeah, I gathered that from what you were saying last night. I have to ask… Have you thought about moving out?”

She sighed, staring out the window so long, he thought she might not answer. “It’s a complicated situation,” she finally said.

“Then I also have to ask… Are you safe there?”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t sound like she completely believed it.

Callum wanted to press further, to try to get all the details, but decided it was better to leave it alone. By this time tomorrow, they’d be headed in their separate directions.

If there was one thing he’d come to understand through all his years of law enforcement—and hell, losing his wife…

You couldn’t save everyone.

But damned if he didn’t want to do something more for Sloane than just send her back to a shitty home situation.

He gripped the steering wheel, shaking his head. There was nothing he could do about that. He’d done what he could. He’d gotten her out of the Kozaks’ clutches and now would get her to the embassy so they could obtain the documentation needed to get out of here.

She’d go her way; he’d go his. He’d hope for the very best things for her.

They weren’t far from the embassy now. The downtown traffic was much heavier. Callum eased the repurposed car into a dimly lit parking garage, the tires crunching over scattered gravel. He killed the engine and looked over at her.

“We’ll have to walk from here. It’ll be much less conspicuous. Plus, there’s generally no parking at the front gate of an embassy for security purposes.”

“Once we get inside, will we be separated?”

He turned to face her, seeing the worry etched in her features. His chest tightened. “The people there are on our side. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be nearby, even if we’re not in the same room.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Callum knew the embassy would mean the end of…whatever this was between them. No more shared hotel rooms, no more quiet moments in the car. No more waking up to those big blue eyes.

The thought left him feeling a little hollow.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, cupping her face in his callused hands.

“Sloane, I…” he began, then gave up on words entirely. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss started soft, tentative, but quickly ignited into something more. Sloane wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Callum deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

For a moment, the world fell away. All that was left was the two of them.

When they finally broke apart, they both were breathing heavily. Callum rested his forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her. He wanted nothing more than to stay here with Sloane and keep kissing her.

Except to make sure she was safe.

“We should go.” He forced the words out.

They got out of the car and walked in silence toward the embassy, Callum hyperaware of Sloane’s presence beside him. At least he’d gotten one kiss. He’d treasure it, even though soon this nightmare—and his part in it—would be in her past and she’d move on. This would all become smaller and smaller in her mind until it was eventually gone for good.

For him too. That was the way it should be.

Right ?

As they rounded the corner, the embassy gates came into view. Callum picked up speed before he could do something stupid like ask her to see him once they got back on US soil.

Then he stopped in his tracks, grabbing Sloane and spinning them both so they weren’t facing the embassy anymore. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he’d almost missed the two menacing figures standing near the gate, eyes scanning for people all around.

Callum had no doubt the men were scanning for them .

“Shit,” Callum hissed, pulling Sloane close. “Kozaks’ men at the gate. They’re looking for us.”

He felt her tense against him. “What do we do?”

“Act natural. Don’t pick up speed or look at them. Just keep walking.” He guided her away from the gates.

“Okay,” she whispered, her body tense.

As they retreated, Callum’s mind raced. The embassy was out. If they couldn’t get through the gates, the soldiers inside couldn’t help them, even if they stood there screaming, We’re Americans ! Outside the embassy gates was Moldovan business, not American.

The Kozaks’ men could shoot them point-blank, and the people inside the embassy couldn’t do anything about it.

He and Sloane had been so close to safety, yet now it was impossible to be reached. His mind started shifting to other options. The Kozaks must have a bigger network than he’d thought if they already had men stationed here.

“We need a new plan.”

And fucking fast.