Page 18

The café kiosk inside the hotel was mobbed in chaos, like a minor war zone.

Jet-lagged conference attendees, twitchy guests, and caffeine-starved staffers had turned the modest cart into a battlefield of elbows and urgent espresso orders.

Everly Quinn stood somewhere near the back of the line, her hair raked back, still in running gear, but it was as if she could feel Zorro’s shirt lingering like a brand on her skin.

She couldn’t stop replaying the moment in the hallway. The stare. The silence. The T-shirt.

The damn running commentary from his teammates.

God.

Her cheeks burned all over again.

She shuffled forward in line, trying to disappear into the conference badge around her neck, when the woman in front of her turned slightly, elegant long legs. Everly blinked.

The woman’s outfit had a vibe . Wide-legged linen trousers in a shade of olive that should have looked utilitarian but somehow screamed couture , paired with a sleeveless high-neck top in a deep, almost-black navy silk.

Gold earrings the size of paperclips, messy red bun, not a single hair out of place.

Everly stared for a beat too long. “I could never pull off that outfit.” The woman turned fully, grinning with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how good she looked and exactly what to do about it.

Everly blinked again. That voice. That posture. There was something familiar about her, but she couldn’t place it.

“Honestly,” Everly added, “I’m not even sure where I’d wear anything like that.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I designed it.” Of course she did. “Oh, honey,” she added, her tone velvet and heat, “I could make you look good on an evening out or hip-deep in blood and bad lighting.”

Dozens of wounded. Dozens more uninjured but terrified. Children everywhere. Blood….

“We’ve met before. Niger. That’s it.” She reached out her hand. “Right. General Jackman’s aide. I remember now.”

“Of course.” The woman’s expression softened. “You’re the trauma surgeon, Dr. Quinn.”

“Everly, please.”

“You knew me as Lieutenant Phillipa Thompson, but I go by Pippa.” They stood in silence for a beat, the memory crowding the air between them. “You were very busy that day. All those burned children. It was awful.”

The noise of the coffee kiosk faded, replaced, if only for a moment, by the distant echoes of chaos in that hospital corridor. Smoke. Screaming. Children too silent. The thick scent of burned cloth and blood that never quite left your nose.

When all Americans had been told to exit the country after the coup, Everly thought often about all the people who had needed her. Sometimes those screams haunted her sleep.

Everly folded her arms, more from reflex than cold, her eyes flicking down to Pippa’s flawless trousers again, the incongruity making something in her tighten.

It was ridiculous, standing here, fixating on a silk top and high-waisted pants when her stomach was still tangled from the morning’s hallway ambush and Zorro’s ridiculous, infuriating tenderness.

But it was all connected, wasn’t it?

Identity. Appearance. How people saw you, or how you hid and they…didn’t.

Everly’s fingers tightened around her badge as she tried to shake the old mantra. She wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to speak. To deliver her part of the Welcome. To make it through this week in one piece.

“I tell you what,” Pippa said, brushing an auburn curl behind one ear as she studied Everly with assessing warmth. “Let’s get our coffee and then come to my room. We’re about the same size, and I have something that will look fabulous on you.”

Everly blinked. “I couldn’t?—”

“Oh, yes, you can , and coffee’s on me.”

She turned to order without waiting for more protest. Everly flushed, caught between polite refusal and the unfamiliar rush of wanting…

to be seen. To choose to be seen. Maybe even knock Zorro’s socks off.

Him and the rest of the damn team who’d only seen her in scrubs, a blood-spattered coat, or, God help her, his T-shirt.

They took their coffees and headed for the elevators, Pippa chatting easily about the boutique schedule and upcoming fall launches, while Everly tried to focus on anything but the swarm in her stomach.

The elevator doors opened.

Everly stepped off and turned toward her room, only to realize Pippa wasn’t following.

She was crossing the hall, heading toward the door directly opposite hers. Everly froze. “Wait…this is your room?”

“Yes,” came the deep voice from behind her.

She turned and went absolutely still.

The Terminator.

Zorro was right. He never leaves.

A startled laugh burst from her throat, too loud, a little hysterical. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Elias Jackman. Zorro’s LT. Joker.

The living embodiment of command presence. Tactical stillness. Sharp-eyed judgment wrapped in muscle and control.

Her pulse tripped.

Of all the doors in all the hotels in Rio, she had to be standing in front of his.

Everly’s whole body reacted before she could think. Shoulders stiffened. Jaw locked. Her pulse spiked.

Pippa reached for his arm, casual and intimate. “Hey, babe. You’re done with the run? Where are the guys?”

“They needed another…ah…hour.”

He glanced at Everly. Her face flushed.

Was there a fight? Over her?

Zorro…

He gave her a slow nod, eyes sharp and amused. “Dr. Quinn. Did you ever get that ice bucket?”

Everly froze.

His brow lifted, just slightly.

Was there…a flicker of red behind those eyes?

She laughed again, sharp, breathless. Less haha and more I’m barely surviving this interaction.

He smiled. Wickedly.

“I’ve got every one of their numbers,” he said casually. “Yeah, I herd a bunch of cats for a living.”

Everly swallowed hard. Yeah, she thought. Big predatory jungle cats. “You should get hazard pay for that,” she blurted before she could stop herself. Everly exhaled, half-laugh, half-resignation. “You might as well call me Everly. I don’t have a foot to stand on here.”

Joker’s brow rose, amused. “Thank you. You can call me…” He winked. “Terminator.” She rolled her eyes, but the tension bled from her shoulders. “You held your own. You always do, Everly,” he added, voice dry. “He’s worth it.”

The words struck deeper than she expected. Simple. Unvarnished. Coming from the man who led Zorro, fought beside him, trusted him with lives.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to admit that part of her already knew it was true. So she just nodded. For the first time all morning, she didn’t feel like running.

“I’ve got to jump in the shower,” Joker said, brushing a kiss against his wife’s temple. “I’m meeting Captain Leite downstairs in thirty minutes to go over today’s training plan.”

He disappeared into the room without fanfare, propping the door. Pippa grinned at his thoughtfulness.

“You fell in love with Joker?” Everly said slowly, staring at the propped door. “While on deployment? In that godawful country?”

Pippa smiled. “He changed my life. Literally. Saw something in me I didn’t even know was there.

” She nudged Everly gently. “I resigned my commission, left the Navy, and married him. Now I’m a fashion designer for the House of Toscano.

His mom is Giorgia Toscano Jackman, and I manage several of her boutiques in San Diego. ”

Everly’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. I love her designs. That butterfly dress in Vogue . I’m still not over it.”

“I’m actually in town for a House of Toscano runway show. We’re debuting part of my line alongside Gio’s latest pieces. I could even get you tickets if you’re interested.”

Everly blinked. “You’re showing your own designs?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve got a few business-casual pieces in my Alabaster Shimmer Collection, something elevated but wearable. One of them might be perfect for your Welcome talk.”

“I don’t know…”

Pippa paused at the suite door, glancing back with a knowing smile. “Come on, Doc. You’ve worked so hard for other people. It’s time for a little pampering and you time. You’re not just delivering a tribute. You’re representing experience, survival…and maybe a little style.”

Everly felt the resistance start to crack. Maybe it wasn’t about proving anything to Zorro or his team. Maybe it was just about showing up as someone who didn’t disappear behind scrubs and grief.

Inside the suite, it was like stepping into another world.

Soft fabrics in alabaster, cream, and glints of metallic shimmer hung on elegant rolling racks.

Chic heels lined the window bench like weapons ready for deployment.

Jewelry, delicate, sculptural, and gleaming, was arranged with the precision of surgical tools, each piece daring you to underestimate it.

Pippa hummed to herself as she flipped through hangers, then paused, drawing out an ensemble with a flourish that made Everly’s breath catch.

A pure white blouse, sleeveless, crisp but soft to the touch.

A cape in pale napped fabric, just textured enough to catch light, adorned at the collar and hem with tiny, deliberate silver baubles that shimmered like dew on marble, and a matching skirt, tailored but not tight, with the same silver detailing at the hem.

It was powerful.

Quietly so.

It didn’t scream for attention. It commanded it.

Pippa held it out, smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing. “This is from my Alabaster Shimmer capsule. I built it for women who do impossible things and still get told to smile more.”

Everly stared at it, heart thudding.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Pippa said gently. “I think you want to.”

Everly clutched the hanger, heart thudding.

Maybe she did.

Without really meaning to, Everly said, quietly, almost to herself, “My husband never noticed me. Not in scrubs. Not in heels. Not when I wore a red dress for our anniversary.”

The words slipped out like a confession. Unwelcome. Unpolished.

Pippa frowned for a moment, her eyes flashing with conviction. Her smile didn’t vanish, but it shifted into something quieter. Truer.