Page 5 of What Remains

“Don’t you think running away is a little extreme? And I’m still confused about this alleged thing you’re here for if it’s not my thing.”

I crack a smile and almost laugh, but nothing about why I left is remotely funny.

“Our jobs are risky,” she continues when I remain stuck in my head. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”

How am I supposed to get her to understand what her death would have done to me? I’d rather miss her from afar. At least I’m missing someone alive, not six feet under.

I’m about to argue, but I keep my mouth closed when I catch movement from the corner of my eye.

A Navy SEAL is approaching the door to the terrace. Not the SEAL flirting downstairs, but the other one. One of the world’s most elite snipers—Gwen’s uptight father.

Perfect.

“Your old man’s coming,” I warn, instantly regretting my wording. Wyatt’s in his forties, and I just crossed that forty line this year myself, so he’s not that old.

In his eyes, Gwen’s still seven, not twenty-seven going on twenty-eight in March. He treats any guy who so much as looks at her as an enemy combatant. In his defense, he didn’t know he had a daughter until she was almost twenty-one. He’s got overprotective-dad time to make up for.

As the door hisses closed and his boots crunch over the frost, I finally release her wrist, and she backs away.

“Found ya,” he says to her before greeting me. “Easton.” His gaze shifts between us, easily reading the tension out here. “Carter said Zoey called in a favor.”

Gwen turns to me. “Wait, Zoey Zoey?”

I keep my gum clamped securely between my molars as I share, “Yeah. You’d have seen her on the cameras, too, if she wasn’t running late.”

I silently blame Zoey for this entire confrontation. If she’d shown up on time, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off, one bad decision away from saying screw it and moving back in.

“Well, I’m glad you’re stepping in to help her and getting back in a cockpit. Be a shame if you didn’t.”

That should feel good to hear him say, but it doesn’t. The only way I’ll ever stop blaming myself for Gwen almost dying is if hell starts offering vacation rentals.

“You’re flying again?” Her eyes narrow. “For her? That’s what your thing is?”

Why does it suddenly feel like I’m about to have my rights read to me? “I am.”

“For Zoey. Former MI6 Zoey,” she says hoarsely. “Zoey who used to be Carter’s . . .” She doesn’t finish that thought, and she doesn’t need to, we’ve all heard the rumors.

Zoey was Carter’s friend with benefits before he met Diana.

“She’s, um, a total badass.” A small dagger of what sounds like jealousy slices through Gwen’s tone. What’s that all about?

“You okay?” Wyatt caught it, too.

“Sure.” Gwen forces a smile, the same tight one she’ll give a barista when they hand her the wrong iced coffee. She never sends the drink back, so I always order another and swap them out. “Just the two of you on the assignment? Falcon isn’t joining? Or Dad’s guys, Echo Team?”

“I think it’s just us. But since Carter didn’t tell me the rest of you were here, who knows.”

And speaking of Carter.

He and Zoey stroll out onto the terrace.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zoey says to me. “Customs in Germany gave me hell over something I packed.”

“A grenade launcher,” Carter mutters. “Should’ve listened to me and took my plane.” He shakes his head, then peers at me. “Wheels up in an hour. We need a minute before you two head out.”

“Am I also here because⁠—”

“No, different op,” Carter interrupts Gwen.