Monk (K19 Security Solutions 7)

“No. You didn’t leave, because you knew this wasn’t finished between us. You got scared, you tried to run, but you couldn’t. Just like I can’t.”

He kissed her again and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to say something that is going to scare the everliving shit out of you, Saylor.”

“Okay.”

“You and me. We’re meant to be together, and we will be. No matter what, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Holding her against him with one arm, he brought the opposite hand to his heart. “Because this is where I feel you. Every day.” He kissed her one more time before walking her to the front passenger door.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“This op is heating up. There’s a chance I’ll have to leave without much warning.”

Part of her wanted to tell Monk that he didn’t need to explain. She understood. But that was at the heart of what had been bothering her before and still bothered her now. It was one thing when it was her brother and he was doing his job. Of course she’d worried about him, particularly after he’d ended up on life support. It was different with Monk. She worried about him in a different way, and if she was really being honest, she didn’t like the fact that he had to be gone so much. She’d never tell him that, but it was how she felt.

“Saylor?”

“I heard you.”

“This is hard for you.”

“It’s hard for everyone.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand and looked into her eyes. “I’d promise you that I’ll be back, but I can’t do that. All I can tell you is that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that happens.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I know.”

“Saylor, I—”

She put her fingers on his lips. “It’s okay, Monk. I truly do understand.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Yes. Actually, I do.”

She opened the door and climbed inside.

—:—

“I heard back from the Bogotá consulate. Your meeting with the Cuban is set,” Razor said to Striker while Monk continued tracking Ghafor’s movement.

“When?”

“As soon as you can make arrangements to leave.”

“Where’s Onyx?”

“On standby,” Monk answered. He knew because he’d just gotten off the phone with him.

“We’re meeting at eighteen hundred hours,” Striker said when he ended the call.

“Got a minute?” asked Mercer, looking between all three of them and then laying out several documents on the table.

“What have you pieced together?” Razor asked.