Emotion burned in his chest. “I didn’t have her back, Kara. I let her die. I let her live the hell of having her throat sliced open, and drowning in her own blood. I let that happen.”

“You didn’t let her die. She did her job. And you’re right. She was brave. And damn it, we’ll take down Alvarez. We will. We’ll let her rest in peace. But we have to do it together. We need each other.”

She was right. He needed her. That’s why this time, he really was going to make her hate him because he was going to do whatever it took to keep her off that boat.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

With only an hour until they headed to the docks, Kara paced the new hotel room she and Blake had rented close to her apartment, waiting for his return. After seeing the girls off to the Oakland airport and New York, where Walker headquarters was, they’d both agreed they didn’t dare risk going back to her place, or his hotel—even for clothes. By the time they’d returned to San Francisco and shopped, it had been six o’clock, three hours until they were to meet at the docks. Blake had gone to meet Kyle and his brothers to show them certain surveillance points. She’d called him twice and he assured her he was headed back soon, but she was getting nervous. He’d been withdrawn ever since she’d insisted she had to go with him tonight. Had he left without her? Surely he knew she’d show up at nine at the docks on her own.

The door to the room jiggled and Kara rushed forward as Blake walked in, and she let out a breath of relief. He was still in jeans and a leather jacket. He hadn’t left without her. Kyle followed him in and her relief faded inside the crackling tension in the air.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asked.

Blake settled his hands on her arms. “Kyle’s going to stay with you while I go to the meeting.”

“What? No. I’m going.”

“No, Kara—you aren’t.” His hands came down on her shoulders, his brown eyes hard, determined.

She wet her lips, knowing two big men weren’t a battle she could fight. At least, not head on. A good agent—and she was a good agent—used smarts. “If you do this—”

“You’ll hate me,” he said. “I’d rather you hate me alive than bury you like I did Whitney.”

Like Whitney. A part of her softened. He cared about her. He was worried about her. But she cared about him too, and neither of them could survive his guilt and fear. He had to overcome it. She had to make him. She removed his hands from her shoulders. “Do what you have to do, Blake.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was easy.”