Page 156 of The Wrong Husband

He pauses to consider, begins to nod, then stops.

"I don’t miss not having the luxuries in life—like clean water and a comfortable bed, and being able to shave— But do I miss the adrenaline rush from being in life and death situations?" He inclines his head. "Hell, yes."

"You’re such a jock,” I scoff.

"Because I like the thrill of being in the thick of the action?"

"Because… You like being the one doing the rescuing."

"I suppose." He scratches his whiskered beard. "And so does Connor. Which is why I was surprised when he said he wasn’t taking on any more missions in the field. He told me that right before he informed me you guys were eloping. That’s when I knew he was serious about you."

"That’s why you didn’t turn up and stop us from eloping."

James looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. "This is Connor we’re talking about. Nothing I said or did would have stopped him.Besides, it wasn’t really my place to do so. Not when you’re a grown up and know what you're doing with your life."

He winks.

"Besides… Once I was over the shock of Connor and you being together, I realized, there’s no one else I’d trust to take better care of you."

A pressure builds at the backs of my eyes. Perhaps, it’s because we’re talking about Connor, and how we met feels like another lifetime, though it wasn’t that long ago. Because now, I miss him even more desperately. And all the worries I’ve been trying to hide from myself rush to the fore. I've managed not to give in to the fears for Connor. I’ve refused to cry, even when I was alone. But maybe, it’s the knowledge my brother won’t judge me, and I can lean on him, which causes a tear to trickle down my cheek.

"Hey." James seems taken aback, then he pulls me into an embrace, "We’re doing everything to get through to the rebels. If there’s anyone who can bring him back, it’s Brody, and Quentin, and?—"

"We’ve got contact."

James and I turn to find one of the team members from the command center beckoning us. He’s told me his name, but my state of mind is such, I can’t recall it.

James and I quicken our steps and reach the cabin.

"A few minutes ago, we noticed activity at the rebel base."

I know, they’ve been monitoring it since Connor went inside to negotiate the release of the other hostages and the supplies.

"The gates opened, and an SUV drove out," the other man replies.

"Is he… Is he in it?" My heart somersaults into my throat. I don’t want to get my hopes up. But I also want to stay positive. I want to…lean into the glimmer of expectation unfolding in my chest.

"We don’t know yet. Brody’s already set off, with three of the team, to intercept it." The team member keeps this voice steady. The glint in his eyes indicates he’s buzzing with anticipation.

I pant as I keep up with the men’s longer strides. I step into the operations room and am instantly hit with the tension that envelops everything and everyone inside like a pea soup fog.

One wall holds an intelligence board—photos of what I know is the rebel camp, grainy thermal images, and handwritten reports pinned to it. In the middle, someone’s pinned a note. The language is the kind they use to outline missions in the military. I’ve read it so often, I have it memorized.

PRIORITY TARGET: CONNOR DAVENPORT

Status: MIA – Deep Rebel Territory

ENTRY 17 – LIVE EXTRACTION FEED: TACTICAL OPS

• Location: Sector Delta, Kandor – Pinged 06:14 via Drone 17

• Visual: Last confirmed sighting—Connor, entering the rebel encampment in his SUV.

Directive: Hold fire until ID is confirmed.

Mandate: Whatever it takes. We bring him home.

Home. He’s my home. He will be home.