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He stepped across the hall, knocked softly, then used his keys to let himself in.
He stepped inside, closed the door, and came to a stop. Kira was watching television, her weapon lying on the arm of the chair at her side. Risa was asleep on the couch. Morganna and Emily were stretche
d out on the floor.
“One of us should call Clint and Kell,” Kira said softly as she rose to her feet.
Micah nodded as he felt his throat constrict. Risa slept with comfortable innocence, her expression serene as she lay on her side, her head propped up on one of the small couch pillows.
As Kira made the call to the two men on backup, Micah moved to the couch, picked up his woman, and carried her to her bed. He tucked her beneath the blankets before returning to the living room in time to see Morganna rising groggily from the floor while Kell lifted his wife in his arms.
The two men nodded back to Micah soberly as Kira went to the door, checked the hall, and gave the all-clear nod. They moved from the apartment as Micah caught the door. Closing it behind him, he checked the locks, then made his way through the other rooms to test the windows and the security there.
He couldn’t still that ragged voice inside him that reminded him of Bailey’s grief at his parents’ funerals. He couldn’t still the memories of the child she had been or the decision he had made tonight.
He was getting old, he decided as he moved back to the bedroom and stripped his clothes off wearily. He had just spent the past eight hours tracking Bailey’s movements over the past few years, as well as any connection she could have had to Orion other than the Russian mission. Then, Micah had questioned her. His sin was in allowing another man to break her reluctance to tell them what they needed to know.
Why would she hide it?
Micah crawled into the bed, his eyes closing as Risa rolled to him, reaching for him even in sleep.
His arms surrounded her, his hold almost desperate as he buried his face in her hair and fought every instinct he could feel rising inside him to take her and run. He could hide her, he told himself. He was Mossad. He wasn’t just an agent; he was every second of training he had absorbed during those years. Every instinct honed to lethal sharpness. He could protect her.
Unless something happened to him. Unless he blinked and the worst happened. And then he would be without her.
He kissed her hair.
“Ani ohev otach, Risa,” he whispered on a nearly silent breath. I love you, Risa.
He loved her.
She was his heart.
And Micah feared he would never survive when he was forced to walk away from her.
“Micah.” She breathed his name against his chest.
Her hand smoothed down his torso until it lay on his abdomen, inches above the thickly erect cock that rose from between his thighs.
He ached for her; he hungered for her. But as much as he wanted her physically, tonight he simply needed to hold her.
There were things he had never expected to face when he had signed his life away to the Elite Ops. He hadn’t expected to find a woman who touched his soul, just as he hadn’t expected to face the last remaining blood relation he had or to allow her interrogation.
Now he had to face what he was losing, and he admitted the cost was much too high.
“Make it stop.” A whisper of fear in Risa’s voice drew him back to her.
She didn’t scream the words; she didn’t cry out in fear or in pain. The sound was broken instead, a drugged hiss of agony that tore through his soul. “Daddy, please, make it stop.”
Micah tightened his arms around her, desperate to awaken her but knowing that each dream could hold the key to saving her.
He clenched his eyes closed, held her closer to his body, and swore if he ever got his hands on the last living demon that had touched her, then he would kill.
Risa hadn’t dreamed much once Micah had invaded her bed. But as she slipped into the warm soothing tide that came whenever Micah held her, she felt her defenses against those dreams slipping.
She was safe in his arms. She could feel them surrounding her, his presence almost a shield between herself and the pain.
This time, when the dream came, it was as though she were watching herself, rather than being herself within the dreamscape.
