She’d managed to knock the gun across the room, but he was faster and stronger than he appeared. Even as she dove after it, Deboque was on top of her. One hand closed over her throat, shutting off her air. Hannah freed one arm and brought her fist into his windpipe. Then both of them were gasping. She reached forward and her fingers scrabbled over the handle of the gun. She swore in both pain and fury as he dragged her back by the hair. For thirty grim and exhausting seconds, they struggled on the cabin floor. Her blouse tore at the seam. Beneath, bruises were already forming. She bloodied his mouth but was frustrated, unable to land a disabling injury.

Wrapped like lovers they rolled toward the gun again. She reached again, nearly grasping it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fist coming and dodged. The blow was glancing, but strong enough to send her reeling. Then she was looking into the barrel of his gun.

She’d prepared herself to die. Struggling for breath, she braced. If she could do nothing else, she could fulfill her vow to spit in his eyes. “I’m an ISS agent. The Bissets are safe, and you’ve nowhere to run.”

She saw the fury come into his eyes. She smiled at him and waited for the bullet.

When Bennett broke into the room, he saw Deboque crouched over Hannah, pointing a gun at her head. It happened in flashes, so quick that immediately afterward he couldn’t be sure who had fired first.

Deboque’s head swung around. Their eyes met. As the gun swiveled from Hannah’s head toward Bennett’s, she screamed and swung out. Two triggers were pressed. Two bullets exploded.

Bennett felt one whiz by him, so close that his skin shuddered and heated from it. He saw the blood bloom on Deboque’s chest an instant before he crumpled onto Hannah.

She started shaking then. All the years of training dissolved as she lay trembling under the dead man. She’d prepared for her own death. That was duty. But she’d seen the bullet smash into the wood less than an inch from Bennett’s face.

Even when he came to her, pushing what had been Deboque aside and gathering her close, the trembling didn’t pass. “It’s over, Hannah.” He cradled her, rocked her, pressed kisses to her hair. “It’s over now.” Instead of the satisfaction, even the glory he’d expected to feel there was only relief. She was safe. And he was going to see that she stayed that way.

“You might have been killed. Damn you, Bennett, you were supposed to be home.”

“Yes.” He glanced up as Reeve rushed into the room. “We’ll both go there soon.”