Just that fast her frustration and anger disappeared. Didn't they have enough to worry about? Starting with getting Lucas to consider his own needs. "Have you eaten?"
"I'm fine."
Not an answer. She wanted to shake him.
But she also wanted to pull his head down to rest on her chest, soothing a hand along his back as she'd done for Lucia. His weariness seemed deeper than mere exhaustion tonight. She prepped her arguments for why he should sleep instead of her...only to be cut short by another shadow stretching as the spiky-haired agent filled the doorway, a laptop tucked under his arm.
"You two need rest." The agent—wasn't his name Keagan?—stepped deeper into the room, flip-flops slapping the wood floor. "Sir, no disrespect, but you've been up for two nights already."
Lucas didn't move, but he also didn't argue. Maybe Keagan could help with the persuasion. She stayed silent and let him talk.
"You'll have plenty to keep you busy when word comes in tomorrow from the rescue teams. I'm pulling night shift anyway. It's no big deal for me to type up my reports in this room."
Sara watched Lucas's set face and knew if she didn't move, he wouldn't, either, and how strange to realize she actually did have the power to do something for him.
She rose, her achy legs complaining. The trek had taken more of a toll than she'd realized now that adrenaline wasn't fueling her feet. "I confess. I'm human and need to sleep."
Slowly, Lucas stood, resting a hand on Lucia's head. "Keagan? Watch her like she's your own."
"Of course." The agent sprawled into Sara's vacant chair. "I owe you one for slotting Darcy to fly the mission down here."
Lucas shrugged off the thanks. "I wouldn't have scheduled her if she wasn't the best qualified."
"I know, but there are other qualified pilots and we're apart so damn much." A grin kicked a dimple into Keagan's face. "It's mighty tough for Darcy and me to make a munchkin of our own if we're never in the same vicinity."
Right then, Sara envied the man and his wife. The normalcy of their hopes and dreams left her a little weepy, surely a by-product of the intensity of the past few days, today in particular. She had so much to be thankful for. How frivolous, silly—selfish—to wish for more. She had what mattered.
Sara pressed a kiss to her daughter's head before smiling her thanks at the unconventional operative currently firing up his computer. And why was she delaying leaving the room by pondering the contradiction of a driven agent who wore casual flowered shorts and flip-flops?
Because in a few more steps, she and Lucas would be completely alone for the first time since she'd climbed through the stone wall at Chavez's compound. Deep breaths.
They would both be asleep in seconds anyway. She joined Lucas in the dim hall, the quiet of night oddly loud, heavy. Intimate.
What now? "Where do I...? What am I supposed...?"
Exhaustion rolled over her so hard and fast she couldn't string words together.
Lucas guided her to the next door down. "We both stay in here. There's a double bed, and it's the only other bedroom." He held up a hand. "Before you argue about the 'we' part, consider this. If you sleep in a room on your own while I sleep on the damned uncomfortable sofa, then I'll have to tap someone to guard you. Which pulls another agent away from his work."
Ah, the real reason he'd come with her—to guard her while she slept. She was too tired to be disappointed. "Because you and your people do not trust me?"
"Because we want to keep you safe."
"I'm too sleepy to argue."
He must be even more exhausted, and the longer she talked, the longer before he erased those dark circles under his eyes.
She crossed into the room with him, a simple double bed in the corner covered by what looked to be a handwoven blanket with rusty red and gold geometric designs, a reminder of her heritage she would soon leave behind. Shutters on the outside fit over bars and glass on the inside.
Bulletproof? Probably. She shivered.
He jerked a thumb toward the footstool and cane rocker with his survival vest and grimy flight suit hooked over the back. "I'm not offering to sleep in the chair."
"I did not plan to ask." She sat on the edge of the bed, toeing off her shoes. Memories of how hot they'd been for each other, always hungry for more, tingled through her until her br**sts tightened in response. "We've slept together before, many times. It would be ridiculous to claim modesty."
The mattress creaked and dipped on the other side from Lucas's weight, and she realized they'd never slept together as husband and wife. How strange was that? They'd shared a bed and more, even through the night, but somehow this felt different, strange.
Frighteningly wonderful.