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Disabling security cameras? He could do that in his sleep. Retrieving a first aid kit? Easy as pie.

Tightening the makeshift tourniquet above Tessa’s arm and watching her jaw tighten? He wanted to rip someone to pieces for causing her so much pain.

Sweat gleamed on her forehead, and her usually piercing gaze was dull under the haze of pain and blood loss. She was fighting shock—he could see it in the way she gritted her chattering teeth. Her whole body trembled. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. More than that, her lips kept forming arguments that she didn’t have the strength to voice.

“Hold still,”

he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. It was a calm he didn’t feel. She was convinced the shooter had purposely tried to miss both of them, but he didn’t believe that. Then there was the van.

It took everything he had to keep his finger steady as he threaded the needle with a surgeon’s precision. He’d had to patch himself up more than once. The needle glinted under the dim lounge light, the sterile smell of alcohol filling the air between them.

“I am,”

Tessa shot back with a waver in her voice. She cleared her throat, seemingly annoyed that she was showing weakness.

“It’s not every day you get shot and go into shock. It’s okay to let me take care of you.”

Even hurt, she didn’t cut him any slack. “I take care of…myself. I have since I was…nine.”

Jessie had once mentioned that she suspected Tessa had been abused, or at least neglected, growing up. When Jessie had pried, though, Tessa had refused to talk about it. Tommy wondered if she’d been in the UK’s version of the system that he and his sister had suffered through. “I get it—you’re as tough as they come.”

He meant it sincerely, but he saw her eyes narrow, assuming he was being flippant. Her voice came out stronger this round. “Not tough. Resilient.”

It was the same thing in his world, but anything he could say was meaningless in this moment. His actions mattered. He wiped away another trail of seeping blood and earned a curse from her. “I don’t like this either,”

he told her. The gash was clean but ragged. “An inch to the right and you’d be missing more than your favorite jacket.”

“I’m telling you, our shooter didn’t mean to hit me.”

Whatever. “This is going to sting.”

“Just do it.”

Her flinch as the antiseptic soaked into the gaping injury was minimal, but her knuckles whitened where she gripped the edge of the table. “Ever been shot before?” he asked.

She shook her head, lips tight. Glancing away as he slipped the needle under one edge of the gash, she blinked hard. “I did a quality job on you,”

she ground out. “You better return the favor.”

His injury was on the mend, thanks to her. He was grateful, but he was no sewer. “Can’t guarantee anything.”

Silence encircled them, nothing but the ticking of a clock on the wall breaking it as he focused on her delicate, pale skin. She’d downed the water, and he’d given her some oxycontin that he’d found in the head librarian’s stash in her desk. Much stronger than aspirin, they seemed to be already relieving some of Tessa’s pain. He had to make sure to keep her warm and hydrated, so she didn’t lapse back into shock.

“You’re sure about them?” he asked.

She read his mind. “Vasile and Sorina didn’t sell us out.”

“I don’t trust?—”

“But I do. They don’t know you. They have no connection to the embassy riot or Hagar. None to Jessie or the swans or…”

The final stitch cut her off as she sucked in a breath. He trimmed the thread. “Or what?”

She blinked as if she’d been lost in thought and he’d interrupted. “What?”

The shock was still taking its toll. “If not Vasile and Sorina, who then? You said it was a woman.”

“I only got a quick glance, but her size, her posture…I’m fairly certain our shooter is female.”

He wouldn’t rule it out. “Why would she fire at us but not mean to hit us? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know.”

Again, she paused, seemingly lost in thought. “To warn us off? Chase us away?”

She shrugged, examining his handiwork. “She must have had a reason.”

He wiped his hands and shoved the kit aside. Searching cabinets, he found a mug and tea bags. He shoved the water-filled mug in the microwave and zapped it. “This whole thing has gone to hell, and I haven’t even started on my quest to retrace Jessie’s footsteps before Vienna. I should leave you here. You’re in danger because of me.”

“Stop it.”

Her tone was filled with rebuke. “We’re alive, and you’re not going on alone. We need your passport, and then we’re heading for Arizona.”

The microwave dinged, and he dunked a bag into the steaming liquid. “You’re going back to the tourist shop? Are you nuts?”

“Stop being dramatic. Vasile will do anything to get his money, including bringing the papers to me.”

He helped her into her jacket and added his own, like a blanket over her shoulders. She sighed. “You’re going to meet him in public?”

Accepting the tea, she sipped. “A dead drop. He’s done them for me before.”

“I thought you didn’t do spy shit,”

he said, slipping a challenging note into his voice.

She made a rude gesture, and to his surprise, he laughed. It felt good, too.

He drew her to the couch with her cup and put an arm around her. She quirked a brow at him. “We need to warm you up to offset the shock.”

Placated, she snuggled against him. The scent of her shampoo filled his nose, and he kept his breathing even, ignoring the way his pulse skipped at her nearness.

She laid her head on his shoulder, and his intentions went out the door. He swallowed hard. Inhaled deeply. Rubbed her good arm with gentle, soothing strokes.

Color returned to her cheeks. Her rapid breathing slowed. She finished the tea. “I need to hit the restroom before we go,” she said.

Her voice sounded husky, sexy. He smiled to himself, realizing he was having the same effect on her as she was on him. “Of course,”

he said, but neither of them moved.

She set the empty cup aside and pressed her hand against his chest. Her pretty eyes, framed by thick lashes, met his. “I appreciate the stitches.”

“Just returning the favor.”

The way she stared at him made his already jumpy pulse kick harder. “You’re a hero in my eyes, you know.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Why?”

“Uncovering this plot and going after those responsible is extremely brave.”

Brave or stupid? He didn’t care as long as she kept looking at him like that. “I’m not a hero, T.”

She ran a finger down his cheek. “In my book, you are. Better get used to it.”

Heroes ended up on pedestals. He wanted no part of that. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

Her gaze settled on his lips. She was so close, so…alive. “Me, too.”

She ran a thumb over his bottom lip, and he couldn’t breathe. She touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”

That oxy was messing with her. With him. The drugs—and maybe the brush with death—had combined into this flirty cocktail.

All the blood had drained from his brain. “For what?”

“For reminding me who I am.”

He was about to ask who exactly that was, but she stood, shedding his jacket and collecting the bloody paper towels. She shoved them into an interior jacket pocket, grabbed the rest of the pills he’d stolen, and pocketed them, too.

Still stunned by the kiss, he sat there like an idiot, watching her pull out her phone and type a text before she flicked her gaze to him. “Are you just going to sit there?”

He gave her arm a pointed look. “You really think you’re up for this?”

He needed to diffuse the live wire of attraction between them. “If you collapse, I’m not carrying you.”

That did the trick. She huffed a chuckle. “If I collapse, you get that passport and head to Arizona. I want your promise that you won’t let anything stop you from this mission.”

Such determination. Such conviction. It mirrored his own. “I promise.”

By the time they exited the library, the sun had dipped below the horizon. This section of the city was quiet; the street bathed in the yellow glow of street lights. Tessa seemed stable as they stepped into the night. He drove again, and she directed him to the dead drop site. On the way out of the library, she’d lifted a manila envelope and now tucked paper bills into it.

The dead drop location wasn’t far from the tourist shop. They left the car behind and kept to the side streets, moving in the shadows.

Every sound made him jump. At one point, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into an alcove. “Wait,”

he whispered in her ear.

She gave a slight shudder but held still. He could almost hear her heart pounding as a car slowly drove down the street. The headlights moved past them without pause, but tension hung in the air.

It wasn’t the van. “False alarm,”

he said, releasing her reluctantly.

They resumed their cautious trek until the shop came into view. Turning in the opposite direction, they found a bus stop, and Tessa slipped the manila envelope under the seat.

“You sure he’ll come?”

Tommy asked.

“Just watch.”

Sorina walked down the sidewalk with a neutral expression, talking on her cell phone in Romanian. She sat on the bench, tucking a large tote between her feet and leaning forward, continuing her conversation.

Tommy kept a close eye on their surroundings. A single person crossed the street farther down the block, but he was busy texting and didn’t look their way. Sorina deftly retrieved the envelope and stuck it in her bag. In the next second, she placed a matching one in the same spot under the bench.

The bus barreled down the street and stopped in front of her. Still talking on her phone, she picked up her bag and boarded. They waited an additional minute before Tessa went to grab the envelope.

Tommy stopped her. “Let me.”

He didn’t even try for subterfuge. He simply walked up, ripped the envelope from its hiding spot, and jammed it inside his coat, jogging back to her.

He took her by the hand and hustled her to her car.