He swallowed and looked away. The sheen of tears appeared, then faded. “I’m glad. If you ever change your mind, I won’t hold you back.”

“That goes both ways. If you ever decide you want to reenlist, I’ll support that.” She paused. “Since my father got everything reversed—and the doctor who incorrectly diagnosed me is now in prison—I’ll have to finish out my tour, but I only have four months left.”

He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I can do four months.” He paused. “Maybe.”

“We can make it. Once I get out, we can take things slow.”

“I think we’re going to make an awesome team.”

“It won’t be perfect every day. I’m still me. Stubborn, opinionated, sad that I can’t change the decisions I made in high school . . . and too insecure for my own good.”

“And I’m . . . well . . . I’m . . . I can’t think of anything.” He shot her a teasing grin and she punched him in the bicep. Then he sobered. “I’m not perfect either. I’m a lot of those things you listed. And more. Your high school days are gone. The decisions you made back then don’t have to define your future. I won’t let them define it.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, “but if you’re sure, we’ll make it work. Together.”

“Which brings us back to that whole rest-of-our-days thing.”

She smiled. “So it does.”

“Only if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to. I want to, Gavin. More than anything.”

“Thank God.” He lowered his head and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sent up a silent prayer of agreement.

An Excerpt from Book 3 in the Series

CHAPTER
ONE

JULY
KABUL, AFGHANISTAN

The watcher sat in the noisy café, attention focused on the mother and two boys across the street. The father had stepped to the side to speak on his phone while the woman purchased two treats from the vendor. She gave them to the children, who eagerly dug in.

While the sun beat down and the asphalt shimmered, the watcher tuned into the eldest son. He was probably fifteen or sixteen, the youngest no older than nine. Two bodyguards stayed close by, their gazes roaming, hands on their weapons.

Fascinated by the protective way the older boy hovered over the younger, the watcher rose to discreetly follow the small family a short distance as an idea formed. An idea that had been germinating for the past two months even while the means to carry out the plan had been elusive. Now, the plan took root, shaping and growing by the minute.