“Yeah, I know. And you should have seen his face. Like, I dunno, I’d asked him to walk through Disney World in his underwear or something. I tried to get out of it.”

“How?”

“I kissed him.”

Zoey’s mouth opened slightly, and she held up her fist for a bump. “You go, girl.”

“Nooo—it was pitiful. And afterwards, he completely dodged me and now . . . well, he can barely look at me. So . . . well done, Taylor. At least he didn’t kidnap and try to kill me.”

“If that’s your bar for success, I think maybe you’re setting it a little low.”

“I’m not— No, I mean, what’s my problem? I’m a researcher. I spend years searching for the right genome sequence and about thirty-five seconds falling for the wrong guy.”

“I’m not sure you even need that long when you find the right guy. Which may or may not be Colt, but I guarantee that you never looked at Sergei the way you look at Colt.”

No, she hadn’t. She’d just been lonely. And maybe desperate for escape.

But she never, not once, wanted to follow Sergei as he drove out into the night.

Shoot.

Zoey leaned forward between the front bucket seats. “Truth is, Tae, falling in love isn’t safe. And loving a guy like Colt . . . yeah, I get why you might put on your brakes. But at the end of the day, you need to gather up all the evidence and decide whether your hypothesis is right or wrong. Is it worth it to love this guy, despite his crazy life, or not?”

Hmm.

Colt came out of the shop carrying a couple bags. He glanced at her through the windshield and smiled.

A thousand volts hit her and heated her down to her core.

Oh boy.

“You might consider, in that equation, that it’s not as much about the worry when he’s gone, but the way he makes you feel when you’re together.” Zoey glanced at Colt when he opened the door. “Hey there, handsome. What do you have for me?”

“Pork burrito.” He handed her a bag, then held another out to Tae. “And chicken for you. You need your strength.”

She took it. “Thanks.”

Because, yes, she did, if she wanted to survive loving Colt Kingston.

“You’re getting ready to deploy, aren’t you?”

Noemi knew it was a dumb question, really, because Ranger stood in their room, gearing up, doing some sort of mental dance with his equipment, closing his eyes, running his hands over every placement of weaponry.

As if readying himself for battle.

And seeing him stand there, doing this prebattle warm-up, just . . . just . . .

She left the room so she didn’t say anything stupid.

Noemi wanted to strangle her father, the man with nine lives.

Because unlike him, Ranger just had the one. And it belonged to her.