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He wished that Lena’s memory had nothing to do with Raketa, because every time he found himself thinking this way, it always ended with how he’d killed her the same day he saved Raketa’s life.

He closed his eyes momentarily and shook his head, trying to shake her ghost. Lena was hardly the first, nor would she be the last, person Gunner was forced to kill. There’d been too many to count first with special forces when he was a Marine, and then when he became part of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service, and finally with K19. Ridding the world of bad guys was what they did, and it wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to think about long enough to have regrets. But with Lena, it had been personal, and her death had cut deeper than the rest combined.

Even through the headset, Gunner could hear Raketa moan. Fearing she was coming to, he climbed to the back seat and shifted her so he could hold her in his arms. If she woke and reacted, he didn’t want her to go after Mantis who was flying the plane.

Within moments it became clear that she was having a nightmare. He couldn’t decipher the words she said in her sleep, but for the second time, it sounded as though she was speaking Azeri instead of Russian.

“Getting ready to land,” Mantis told him.

Gunner got Raketa strapped in, climbed back into the front, and secured his own seatbelt. He looked ahead and saw the outline of his beloved island.

It had taken time, but he’d finally amassed enough money that he could build the house on it that he’d always dreamed of. It wasn’t big, not like the house his mother and father had built when his dad retired from active duty, but it was big enough for him.

When he initially drew up the plans, he’d only intended to have two bedrooms. Razor had convinced him that was short-sighted.

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p; “You might have family one day, or at the very least, a former operative who wants to live here too,” he’d said.

“You aren’t welcome, and me having a family is an equally ridiculous notion.”

“Better resale value if it has at least four.”

Not that Gunner ever intended to sell it, but Razor had made a good point. If something happened to him, his mother and sister might not want to hang on to a house on an otherwise uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay.

His father had acquired the island from the Marine Corps while he was still a two-star general and was responsible for determining which land holdings that branch of the military should prudently hold on to, and which should be divested.

If his father had tried to buy the island from the Marines now, even for a price that was fair, there’d probably be a congressional investigation into whether he’d unethically exploited his position.

In those days, the Marines didn’t think twice about selling it to him. Doing so meant they didn’t have to go to the trouble of finding another buyer.

A familiar feeling of pride engulfed his chest, knowing how happy his father would be knowing that he intended to retire here.

The only part of what he was feeling that confused him was how anxious he was for Raketa to see it.

* * *

Mantis landed the plane effortlessly and helped bring their gear to the waiting four-wheel-drive vehicle while Gunner carried Raketa into the house.

When he laid her on the bed, she opened her eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

Gunner sat on the edge of the bed. “If you are and I’m in it, it’s not a dream, sweetheart, it’s a nightmare.”

Raketa closed her eyes and then reopened them. “I wondered if I’d see you again.”

“Why?”

“I thought you handed me off.”

Gunner shook his head. “Soon you may wish I had.”

“Not soon. I already wish you had. Why the fuck did you have to drug me?”

“I’m sorry about that. Truly. There were reasons…”

“Right. There are always reasons, particularly if you don’t want your subject to know where you’re taking her.”

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