Theme song of the fucking night, Isaac thought as he shut the door again.

As soon as he walked into the kitchen, Grier broke away from her father and came running at him, hitting his body hard, her arms wrapping around him with vital strength. And with a sigh of gratitude, he held her against him, tucking her head into his chest, feeling her heart beat against his.

“I love you,” she said against the bullet proof vest. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Shit, so he’d heard her right when he’d been on the floor.

“I love you, too.” Shifting her face up, he kissed her. “Even though I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up.”

Now she was the one kissing him and he was more than willing to let her—but not for long. All too soon, he was breaking off the contact.

“Listen, I want you and your father to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

He glanced at the clock. Nine fifty-nine. “Go back to town—somewhere public. One of your private clubs or something. I want you both to be seen tonight, together. Tell people you had dinner or saw a movie. A father-daughter thing.”

As her eyes shot to Matthias’s body, her father said, “I can help.”

“We can help,” Grier amended.

Isaac stepped back and shook his head. “I’ll take care of the bodies. Better that neither of you know where they end up. I’ll deal with this—but you have to go now.”

The Childes looked like they were in the mood for arguing, but he was having none of that. “Think about it. It’s all over. Matthias is dead. So is his second in command. With them gone, XOps will return to what it should be—and be run by the right people. You’re out.” He nodded at Childe, “I’m out. The slate is wiped clean—provided you let me handle it from here. Let’s do this the right way—one last time.”

Her father cursed—which was something the man no doubt didn’t do very often. And then he said, “He’s right. Let me go change.”

As her father disappeared, Grier looked at Isaac, her arms slowly crossing around herself, her eyes growing grave. “Is this good-bye for you and me? Tonight? Here and now?”

Isaac went to her and captured her face in his hands, feeling all too vividly the reality he couldn’t escape and she wasn’t going to be able to live with.

With a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with the bullet, he said one, devastating word: “Yes.”

As she sagged, her eyes closing tight, he had to speak the truth: “It’s better that way. I’m not your kind of man—even if I don’t have to worry about XOps anymore, I’m not what you need.”