Page 106 of The Wild Card

His hands are fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. He’s somewhere else—somewhere terrible, somewhere I can’t reach.

“Crew!” I grab his shoulders, shaking. “Wake up. Please, wake up. You’re safe. You’re home. You’re—”

His eyes fly open. His breathing is ragged, his skin damp with sweat, his pupils blown wide.

“Hey.” I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to focus. “It’s me. It’s Emmie. You’re okay. You’re in your apartment. You’re safe.”

“Emmie?” His voice is wrecked.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

He stares at me for a long moment, chest heaving. Then something in him crumbles, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder, his whole body shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t you dare apologize.” I wrap my arms around him, holding tight. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

We stay like that for a long time. Me holding him. Him letting me.

Eventually, the shaking subsides. His breathing evens out. But he doesn’t pull away, and I don’t let go.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask quietly.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“It was—” He stops. Swallows. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course.” I touch his jaw, stroke his cheek. “You okay?”

He nods once. “A few more minutes of cuddling?”

I smile. “Of course.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Off the Table

Crew

“Jensen. My office.”

Daniels’s voice cuts across the bullpen, and I’m out of my chair before I can think about it. Foster catches my eye from his desk, eyebrows raised in question. I shrug. No idea.

The walk to Daniels’s office feels longer than usual. My brain is already running scenarios—did something happen on the Marchetti case? Did I miss something in the reports? Is there a new threat assessment I haven’t seen?

I knock on the doorframe.

“Sit down.” Daniels gestures to the chair across from his desk. He’s smiling, which is unusual. Daniels doesn’t smile unless someone’s getting promoted or arrested.

I sit.

“I’ll get right to it.” He leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “The Anchorage position has been filled.”

I blink. “Sir?”

“Patterson took it. Jumped at the chance, apparently. Wife’s family is from Fairbanks.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Point is, it’s off the table. You’re staying in Dallas.”