She gave herself a mental reality shake. What they had was over. It could never work. With a sigh of resignation and renewed determination, she booked two rooms with a connecting door.

Next, they cleaned and checked their weapons, gathered the rest of their gear and ammunition. From the office, they went back to their separate apartments to pack fresh clothes and collect whatever else they might need.

Skye was ready that afternoon when Edge picked her up for the drive to the private terminal at Centennial Airport. The three-hour flight was smooth until they crossed into Arizona. The hot, dry weather caused some turbulence as the jet descended to the airport in the small town of Sierra Vista.

A rented white Chevy Tahoe waited for them on the tarmac. Edge unloaded their gear and drove them to the motel. It definitely wasn’t the suite they’d shared at the Bellagio, but the rooms were neat and clean, and the beds looked comfortable.

“At least there’s a connecting door,” Edge said darkly, tossing his gear bag on the mattress. “I don’t like the idea of you being too far away. We have no idea what we could be facing. We need to stick together.”

Skye nodded, knowing he was right. Making her way through the door into the adjoining room, she unpacked a few things and settled in. They were meeting Grease’s contact, a longtime army friend, in a Mexican bar and restaurant called La Cantina at eleven o’clock that night.

As she closed the dresser drawer, she looked up to see Edge standing in the open door between the rooms.

“It’s been a long day,” he said. “We’ve got a little time until the meet. We should get some sleep before we leave.” In a snug black T-shirt that outlined his amazing body, he looked good enough to eat.

There were shadows in his brilliant blue eyes, but they didn’t disguise the heat. The invitation was clear. He wanted her. That hadn’t changed. Since she wanted him, too, her decision to sleep alone suddenly seemed pointless.

And yet she knew she was doing the right thing. Every time they were together would make the pain greater when they parted.

“A nap sounds good,” she said, refusing to acknowledge the turbulence in his eyes. She checked the time and set the alarm on her phone. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Edge watched her a few seconds more, then quietly closed the door.

* * *

The bar at La Cantina was a lively, boisterous place, the interior painted bright orange, red, yellow, and green. Sombreros hung on the walls, piñatas on the ceiling. This late at night, the lights had been turned down, leaving the room softly illuminated.

Edge led Skye to a table in the corner, and they sat down. They both ordered Bud Lights.