Dominik (Arizona Vengeance 6)

All the same arguments we’d had before.

But then I told it to him straight. “I can’t be around here.”

My brother isn’t stupid. He knew exactly what I meant by that, yet he still played dumb. “Why not?”

And for the first time since Dominik broke my heart, I started crying. Just laid my head on my forearms and started sobbing.

I heard the scrape of his chair, and then his arms were around me. I cried into his chest for the longest time, muttering and blubbering about lost love and missed chances and how Dominik was an awful person for ignoring me.

He let me get everything off my chest, and he never once tried to convince me it was stupid to run all the way to Syria because of a broken heart.

I’d finally looked up, then dashed the remaining tears out of my eyes. “Dax… I feel awful leaving when you’re in the playoffs, but this work I do… I love it. It’s going to get my mind off Dominik, and it’s going to make me feel good about myself. And I feel so bad right now that I just really need it. If you tell me that my absence in the stands is going to be detrimental to you personally, I’ll stay. But if you can understand in the slightest where I’m coming from, I need you to tell me it’s okay to go.”

He cursed under his breath, but then gave me a hard hug. “It’s okay for you to go. But please promise me you’ll stay safe.”

I promised.

He let me go.

And now I’d gone and put myself in extreme danger.

John, the reporter I’d been paired up with, had gotten wind of the hostages who were taken and the rescue team that was coming in to make an extraction. He pulled strings and offered favors, then we were somehow allowed to travel with them while they did recon and gathered intelligence. Mark is our private security guy hired by the Washington Post to remain with us at all times.

And now, they are ready to make the raid to rescue the hostages who are all Australian citizens. Jameson was hired as supplemental power to provide the Special Forces teams.

I’d gotten to know and like the Jameson crew over the last few days. Jimmy Tate is easygoing with a pregnant wife back home. Tank Richardson and Sal Mezzina are gruff but in humorous ways. And Malik Fournier… well, I have a lot in common with him. His brothers, Max and Lucas Fournier, play hockey for the Carolina Cold Fury, who are currently battling against my brother’s team for the Cup. Thankfully, one of Malik’s coworkers is some tech genius woman named Bebe who was able to get us radio broadcasts of the games and we listened to them together. As it stands, the Arizona Vengeance is up three games to two, and Malik and I have a whopping twenty-dollar bet on who wins the Cup. It’s been a fun rivalry that helps to take our minds off the pressing danger that waits for him.

As for me, I should still be relatively safe. We’re not allowed to advance forward with them. Instead, we’ve been ordered to remain at base camp.

Unfortunately, game six is going to be starting soon. It’s closing in on midnight, and with the time difference since the game is in Raleigh, it starts in two hours. Malik’s team will be moving out soon, and we’ve been told to keep absolutely silent as we’re left behind.

I’m not going to be able to listen to the game because of that—not here in the still of the night. If all goes according to plan, they’ll be back long before daybreak with the hostages safely in hand, and John and I will have the story of a lifetime.

It’s tense within the camp as the Jameson guys pack up their gear. They’re dressed in desert camo, their flak jackets strapped with grenades and their assault rifles locked and loaded.

I take the opportunity to snap photos as they work, focusing in on the grim determination on their faces.

Malik gives me a wry grin. “Gonna make me famous, Monahan?”

No one calls me Willow out here.

“You’ll have the ladies lined up for miles once this publishes,” I assure him with a laugh.

For a moment, I get a spontaneous and genuine smile of amusement before he goes back to his packing.

“And when you come back, I’ll be ready to collect that twenty bucks off you because the Cold Fury is going down tonight.”

“In your dreams, sister,” he replies with a chuckle.

At this point, I don’t care who wins tonight. I only hope these guys come back safely.

It’s at this moment I realize I haven’t thought about Dominik in almost twenty minutes. I’ve been so consumed with receiving last-minute instructions of what to do when they leave camp and going over all the possible scenarios in my head, I’ve had some blessed relief from the pining I’ve been doing.