Page 64 of Freeing Lark

But what if⁠—

“What if he’d found something?” Lark continued softly. “Something during the mission. Something he’d realized wasn’t right. Maybe he was trying to warn you.”

Hoot couldn’t breathe. Bullet had been there. Inside the compound. Near the vault. Near the information PSG had wanted. And then he’d died.

The mission had been textbook. Almost too perfect. They’d always thought that.

Hoot dragged a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

Lark reached for him. “Hey.” He looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m right,” she said. “I’m just asking questions.”

“But nobody ever asked that question.”

She squeezed his hand. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to figure it out alone.”

Something inside him cracked. Not completely. Just enough. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For eight years he’d lived with the belief that Bullet’s last word had been a prayer. Now he wasn’t so sure.

And suddenly the dream wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory that might be evidence.

Lark moved closer. Her shoulder touched his. Then her head rested against him. Hoot didn’t move away. Instead, he put an arm around her. She tucked herself against his side. The warmth of her seeped through him. His breathing gradually slowed.

“You don’t have to figure it out tonight,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“You can sleep.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Then I’ll stay and keep you company.”

He looked down at her. “You’ve got a strange definition of self-preservation.”

She smiled sleepily. “So do you.”

A few minutes passed. Her breathing grew slower. Then she yawned for the tenth time.

“Go back to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re falling asleep sitting up.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re lying.”

She smiled. “Nuh-uh,” she muttered.

Hoot stood and reached down for her hand. “Come on.”

She placed her hand in his and rose. Then she went up on her toes. He thought she was going to whisper goodnight. Instead, she kissed his cheek. Except Hoot turned his head at exactly the wrong moment.

Her lips landed on his. They both froze. For one heartbeat. Two. Then neither of them moved away. Hoot’s hand tightened around hers. Lark’s fingers curled against his.

Then… he kissed her. Really kissed her. And everything else disappeared. The nightmare. The mission. The questions.

There was only her. Her warmth. Her softness. The faint hitch in her breath when he pulled her closer.