He must have worn a strange expression, because Ham glanced at his teammates. “West, Skeet—give us a minute,” Ham said. He waited until the door closed. Then, “You okay?”
Dakota frowned. “Yeah.”
“Something happen between you two?”
“Nothing that affects the mission.”
“Dakota. I know we haven’t worked together long, but . . .” Ham raised an eyebrow. “Did this get personal?”
Dakota sighed, looked away, hung a hand around his neck. “I let my heart get away from me.” The admission scraped against his throat. “I spent my entire week wondering if she was an assassin. And now . . . Anyway, it was just a cover relationship.” He forced a smile. “It didn’t mean anything.”
He looked away.
“Listen. I believe there are no surprises, no coincidences. God knows you better than you know yourself, Dakota. He knows His plans for you—and they’re good.”
“So it was His plan that I met Jayden? To . . .”
“Fall in love with her? We have choices, Dakota. But I am certain God arranged for you two to meet. What you did with that is on you.”
Yeah. “Mine to mess up. Great.”
“Yours to trust God, if you want. Fact is, everything that happens to us, good or bad, is meant to draw us closer to God.”
Help me know what’s real.
Yes, being with Jayden had made him pray. For the first time in a decade, maybe.
“God longs to be in your moments, help you through the shadows of your life, Dakota. You lie to yourself if you think you have to be alone. But alone is an option too.”
He stared at Ham. The former SEAL was legendary even outside Navy circles. He’d led a team in Afghanistan, and when he started Jones, Inc., guys followed him.
Maybe this sort of wisdom, this faith, was why.
Silence, and finally Ham said, “The summit is tomorrow. You good?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Because I need you to make contact with our counterpart.” Ham turned from the window, his expression professional again. “The Black Swan operative who’s been working this case. According to London, Lynx has intel we need. Apparently, they’ve gotten their hands on some schematics for a bomb they want us to take a look at.”
“Black Swan?” Dakota frowned. He’d heard the name in briefings, but the details were vague.
“It’s a private, all-female intelligence unit. Specialists in deep-cover work, usually in hostile territories. They’ve been tracking this assassination threat from the European side—Bratva connections, the toxin, the whole network.” Ham pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Their operative is here, waiting to meet. Coffee shop on Circular Quay.” Ham handed him the paper—an address, nothing more. “She’ll be waiting. Coordinate your intel, figure out who the real threat is. We’re running out of time.”
Dakota took the paper. Time to put Jayden out of his head. He had work to do.
The walk to Circular Quay should have cleared his head. It didn’t.
Sydney sparkled around him—ferries cutting across the harbor, tourists snapping photos of the Opera House, buskers playing for crowds of delighted visitors. The ocean air smelled of salt tinged with the scent of coffee and the particular sweetness of a city enjoying perfect weather.
Dakota moved through it like a ghost. Present but not present. Seeing everything, feeling nothing.
Except that wasn’t true. He was feeling everything—it was just buried under layers of professional control, packed down so tight that nothing could escape.
I just . . . I hoped . . .
For the happy ending? Yeah, me too, Bugsy.
He found the coffee shop—a modern place with floor-to-ceiling windows, crowded with the morning rush, espresso machines hissing steam into the morning air. He paused outside, gathering himself.
