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She remembered exactly how many bones had broken in her body—seven—and the pain of having her shoulder torn out of its socket. After that, nothing could break her again.

Atticus Cameron and Brock’s SEAL team had saved her. Atticus had made sure she got medical care, then given her a purpose by giving her a job. Her days and nights were all the same. She trained, she worked, and when her body and mind were too tired to function, she collapsed into exhausted sleep, only to be bombarded with nightmares.

No one had ever questioned her work. She was too good at it. But to have Brock question her set her temper off.

“What does it look like?” she replied, her voice sharper than she’d intended. Heat flooded her cheeks, anger and embarrassment mixing into something combustible. “The mission went belly up, and now I’m trying to coordinate who’s going to rescue the rescue team.”

He looked surprised and held up a hand. “Hey, I’m sorry.” The easy confidence faltered, replaced by something rawer. Guilt, maybe. Or grief. “It was supposed to be an in-and-out op. I’m the one who recommended the new TL. I wanted his first mission to be a success. I vouched for him.”

“He’s dead,” she told him, and watched the words hit him like a physical blow. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticcing beneath the tanned skin, and for just a moment his carefully controlled expression cracked. She saw the weight of responsibility in his eyes—the same weight she carried every time she sent teams into danger.

“What?” Disbelief filled his voice. “How is that possible? What happened out there?”

She couldn’t deal with him right now. She’d never seen him this upset, and she realized she’d come to rely on his constancy. “Let me do my job. This isn’t over yet, and I’ll give everyone a briefing once it’s played out.”

“What’s left to play out? We sent a ten-man team to rescue hostages, and the only thing I see on the screen is the enemy taking over. Your job is to be their eyes and ears. To keep them safe. They’re putting their lives on the line and relying on you.”

Her brows lifted and her hands balled into fists. “What’s left?” She stepped from behind the console. “You want to know what’s left to play out?” She was too angry to notice how close she’d gotten. “They’re what’s left.” She slapped her hand against the screen. “These are the nine men who almost died because their team leader refused to follow my orders.”

“Instructions,” Brock corrected coolly.

“Fine, instructions. The fact remains they’re still there, and they still need me. You don’t have to tell me what my job is. I just listened to a man die. I know what my job is better than anyone.”

His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. “What’s their progress?”

This wasn’t the Brock Carter she knew. This was Brock Carter, the SEAL commander.

She rolled her shoulders back. “I don’t know because I’ve been fending off your attacks since you entered my workspace. Let me do my job.”

Brock nodded and tried to smile, but tension was etched on his face.

“Look,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t mean to be a jerk. I just wasn’t expecting any of this. I thought the mission would be marked as a success, and I was going to try to persuade you to go to lunch with me.”

“You know I always say no,” she told him.

“You’ll change your mind one day if I keep asking. Focus on getting those guys out of there. They’re what’s important right now.”

She felt things shift back to normal between them. As normal as they could be. She never let anyone get too close, but Brock had wormed his way into her life. Though she’d often go months without seeing him if he was on assignment, he always took time to find her—a soft word or funny joke, an invitation she never accepted. He was always just there. And more often than not, he was there when she needed him most.

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Brock said, opening the door. “I’ll see you at the briefing.”

She nodded, something catching in her throat. Just a small word of encouragement and her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She was losing her mind.

The door eased shut and the room returned to a dim, cool chamber of electronic activity.

She tuned back into the radio network. “HQ to Alpha Team. Status report.”

Silence.

She’d seen them there only moments before—nine red blurs hiding in the rock crevice. It was possible the rock wall was limiting their radio coverage.

“HQ to Alpha Team, respond.”

“Alpha Two,” a familiar voice said, though the words were broken by static. It was Murchison.

“Status, Alpha Two?”

Nerves danced in her stomach as more static came over the comms. She reached for water to wet her dry throat.