Mercer glanced down. His hands were shaking. When he’d been talking with Cooper, the old pain had come back. The hurt, for what he’d lost.
Annalise. He hadn’t needed to dig into Cooper’s past to learn about her.
He could just close his eyes and picture sweet Anna. That long blond hair. Her wide smile and glinting eyes—the same shade as Cooper’s.
She should’ve had a perfect life. A long life.
“I’m doing my best to protect him,” Mercer whispered. By staying away, he’d missed out on being close when Annalise needed him.
So he’d made sure to keep a good eye on Cooper. When the man had been taken in Afghanistan, Mercer immediately ordered his agents to sweep in for a rescue mission.
Cooper had a love of danger—a love that put him in too much jeopardy.
If Cooper could love something more than that wild rush of adrenaline, if he could love someone else more...
Then the man might actually have a chance of living the life Annalise would have wanted for him.
Cooper just had to feel a deep connection for someone else. He had to need someone more than he needed the next mission.
Judging by the rage and fear that Mercer had seen in his eyes, the reporter was making Cooper feel that connection, all right.
Now, the trick was going to be actually keeping her alive—and convincing Gabrielle Harper that Cooper deserved a second chance with her.
Luckily, Mercer had plenty of resources at his disposal.
Besides, if Cooper was anything like his mother had been, the boy should be able to work his charm.
Mercer would just see how that charm worked on Gabrielle.
* * *
THE DOOR SQUEAKED OPEN.
Gabrielle’s head lifted. Her eyes locked on the man who’d just entered her little prison.
Betrayal stabbed in her gut. She jumped to her feet, but the cuff around her left wrist—the cuff that was currently attaching her to the table leg—prevented her from charging across the room at Cooper.
He stilled. “I didn’t realize... I’ll get that cuff off you.”
He’d better do a whole lot more than just that.
Cooper turned back around toward the door. The dark-haired, green-eyed agent—the one who’d called himself Deuce—stood behind Cooper.
“Give me the keys,” Cooper demanded.
Deuce whistled as he rocked back on his heels. “Are you sure that you want to do that, man? She’s likely to go right for your throat.”
“The keys,” Cooper gritted, and he opened his hand.
Deuce tossed him the keys. “It’s a good thing you had combat training.” His stare swept toward Gabrielle. “I’ll just...ah...leave you two alone.” He backed out of the room.
Cooper hurried toward her.
She was so furious Gabrielle didn’t even know where to start. She had to bite her lip to hold back the furious yells that wanted to erupt.
His fingers closed around her wrist. His touch was warm and solid and— “You really do look good for a dead man,” she told him, her eyes angry slits.
The cuff clicked open. He didn’t let her wrist go. Instead, he lightly rubbed the flesh. She knew he had to feel the frantic race of her pulse beneath his fingers.