Page 83 of Shadow Burn

FLAME MARK: original proves channel.

Of course it did. The original always mattered. So did the person who carried the truth.

He turned back to her. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know.” The honesty hurt worse than a lie would have. “I’ll have hearings. Debriefings. An internal review of my own decisions.” Her lips pressed together. “I moved federal materials here without authorization and then failed to comply with a retrieval order.”

“A retrieval order delivered by the man who shot at you.”

“Yes. That helps my case. Porter thinks I’ll be fine.”

“Porter also believes ‘administrative leave’ is an acceptable substitute for ‘we caught the bastard.’”

“She’s working with what she can say.” Katherine stepped close enough to put her good hand on his chest. “But I have to go back and finish this from inside the system. If I don’t, Upton’s people will write the ending for me.”

He covered her hand with his. “I could help.”

“You already did.” Her eyes filled, though she blinked the tears back before they could fall. “You kept me alive. You protected the papers. You believed me when everything I said sounded impossible. And you only yelled a little when I disobeyed you a third time.”

“You were protecting your family. I would have done the same. But it’s not enough.”

“It has to be for now.”

For now.

The words were small. Not a promise. Not a goodbye. Not enough to build anything on, but enough to keep him from shattering completely in front of her.

He lowered his head. She leaned into him. The world narrowed to her breathing against him, the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her fingers curled ever so slightly into his shirt as if she was trying not to hold on too hard.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said.

“I know.”

“Stay, then. Stay with me. Priss will be happier here. How will this place run without her?”

Katherine lifted her face and kissed him. The kiss was soft. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and her waist with the other, careful of her wrist, careful of every bruise and still somehow not careful enough with his own heart.

When she drew back, her eyes were damp. “I’ll call when I land,” she said.

“That’s not enough either.”

“No.” She tried to smile. “But it’s what I can give you today.”

A knock sounded lightly at the door.

Agent Porter was there, averting her eyes. “Ms. Townsend. It’s time.”

Jasper wanted to tell Porter to take her time, take a lap, take the rest of the damn afternoon. Instead, he stepped back because Katherine needed him to let her walk out under her own power.

She picked up Priss’s carrier from beside the couch. Priss, who had objected to the packing process with operatic intensity, peered out through the mesh panel with narrowed eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re coming too.”

Priss gave one indignant chirp.

Jasper swallowed around the ache in his throat. “She’ll hate the plane ride.”

“She hates most things.”

“She likes me.”