“Mmm,” I said, pulling her closer. “You choose this time.”
A pause and I swear I felt her smile where her head was pressed to my chest. Or maybe it was just some sixth sense telling me mischief was in the air.
“I’m thinking about that old quote,” she said. “You know, the coldest winter I’ve ever had is a summer in—”
“Ava.”
“—In San Francisco, one.”
“Ava.”
“Because I think it’s time your sister sees those three new holes you’re sporting, don’t you?”
I leaned back, bopped her on the nose. “You’re evil.”
Her face sobered, and I started to apologize, thinking she’d taken that as a comment on her family, but then she spoke, and her words touched me more than anything else could have.
“Your sister is important to you,” she said. “I’d like to meet her as . . . me.” Teeth nibbling on her lip, but her chin lifting. “Like the woman who loves you.”
See?
All the pretty words.
I kissed her, long and with every big feeling this woman invoked in me.
I kissed her, like the continuation of that future we’d talked about.
Then I held her close, ordered her to sleep, and said,
“I guess we’re going to San Francisco.”
Epilogue
Part Two
KTS Satellite Base
Western Georgia
16:22hrs
Olive
I strode down the hall.
Okay, maybe I stomped down the hall.
Mostly because of the man at my back.
He was absolutely infuriating.
Case in point, him coming up behind me, grabbing my arm, and turning me to face him. I could have jerked away, could have knocked him on his ass, but my biggest weakness as an agent was one that was my best as a doctor.
I didn’t like hurting people.
Even when they wanted to hurt me. I would do it if necessary. I could do it if the circumstances required—if my life or the life of my fellow agents or the life of an innocent were threatened.
But I really hated it.
Which is why I simply glared up at Linc as he growled, “Those stitches were perfect, and you know it.”
They were perfect.
Which was even more infuriating.
But I was used to being infuriated by Linc. Since the moment I’d been recruited to KTS—going from M.D. to field medic to secret agent—he’d made it a point to piss me off.
First, as the man who I’d shadowed to learn the ropes at KTS.
Then as a fellow doctor on the committee I worked on in my non-mission time to write policies and procedures, to authorize and vet new treatments and . . . who questioned my every decision. Who pushed and prodded and was generally frustrating, even as I respected his attention to details.
And now, as the annoyance of all annoyances, treating my teammates.
“They were perfectly adequate,” I said, shaking him off and moving back down the hall.
“Perfectly ad—” He broke off, shook his head.
If I hurried, I could make it to the airport in time to catch the plane back to England, and be back, reviewing my policies and procedures, before the clock struck midnight.
Like some pathetic version of Cinderella.
Except instead of the pumpkin coach, I had my files.
I pushed through the door that led into the underground garage, punched in my pin code on the panel near the entrance. It slid open to reveal several sets of keys, each would work on the community cars that were parked here and available for KTS use.
This satellite base wasn’t large, and it didn’t have a built-in airstrip like headquarters, but it wasn’t far.
Since the key fobs were interchangeable, I would drive to the airport, park the car and keep the set with me.
Another agent would pick the car up and use it when they flew in.
Like those scooter rentals littering the sidewalk.
Only these were with much nicer—and wholly bulletproof—cars.
And I was thinking about cars and scooters and interchangeable key fobs because I was desperately trying to not think about Linc—and the fact that he was behind me, trailing very close, his spicy scent teasing my nose, his heat at my spine.
Or maybe that was my imagination.
Because there was one additional reason why this man drove me crazy.
I wanted him.
So fucking bad.
But . . . I’d given it a shot. I’d worked up my courage. I’d asked him to go on a date with me.
And he’d turned me down.
Flatly. Coldly. Without hesitation.
“No, Olive,” he’d snapped when I’d invited him to dinner. His gray eyes stormy and filled with frost. His lush mouth pressed flat. “Not now. Not ever.”
So here we were. Annoyance.
Snapping at him so I forgot to be hurt.
“Olive—”
He grabbed my arm again. I shook him off. Again. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed then forced myself to take a breath, to be kind and gracious, like my grandmother had taught me. “Thank you for your work on my teammates.”
Gray eyes edged in storm clouds. That mouth not flat but rather plump and tempting. Linc stepped a little closer. “I don’t do this for thank yous.” A beat. “And I know you don’t either.”
I didn’t. But that also didn’t matter.
I shrugged, started to step away. “I wanted to talk to you—”
Stopping, I met his eyes. “About what?”
Now, regret slipped into his expression. “About that night. I want you to know that I didn’t mean to—”
Oh lord, now he was going to give me some excuse for why he didn’t want to date me. How absolutely fucking pathetic. And miserable.
That too.
“It’s fine,” I told him, lifting the key fob and striding toward the nearest car. “It’s for the best anyway—”
“Olive, I wanted—”
“It wouldn’t have worked and—”
“Or it wasn’t that I didn’t want you—”
I clicked the button to unlock the car, unable to hear anything else. “I get it, Lincoln,” I told him. “Let’s just forget it happened.”
I yanked open the door.
And the world exploded.
—Crossing The Line March 22nd, 2021
Crossing The Line
Olive and Linc’s story is coming March 22, 2021!
Preorder your copy at www.books2read.com/crossingthelineef
KTS
ICE (Hurt Anthology) #0.5
Riding The Edge #1
Crossing The Line #2
Also by Elise Faber
Gold Hockey (all stand alone)
Blocked
Backhand
Boarding
Benched
Breakaway
Breakout
Checked
Coasting
Centered
Charging (December 28th, 2020)
Caged (April 12th, 2021)