by Juno Rushdan
“Dad, what are you doing? You only listen to this when you cook, and you haven’t cooked in years.”
“Sometimes a song needs to be passed on.”
Gideon whisked Willow into his arms. “I have a surprise before we eat.”
He took her right hand, curling an arm around her waist, and swayed to the beat. His feet shuffled around the kitchen in seamless strides, his eyes locked on hers.
Love radiated in the scorching intensity of that look. Penetrated and suffused her, burning so hot, it was as though she’d swallowed the sun. “You learned to dance?”
Smiling, he threw his hips into a rock backward, bringing her with him, leading every step of the way. “Anything for you. My one and only.”
Happiness flooded her, like millions of champagne bubbles in her veins. This beautiful man was hers. Loved her. Saw her. Accepted her. Would do anything for her.
He spun her out to the side, brought her back into his body, and in a simple underarm turn, twirled her again with the polish of a pro.
“Show-off,” she said, smiling.
Holding her close, he mouthed her favorite part, I love you, baby. He stared at her as if nothing else existed, and she was equally enthralled by him. His touch. His piercing blue eyes. His devastating smile. The sound of his laughter.
The house phone rang, shattering their bliss.
They both glanced at it. Only the Gray Box had the house number.
“We don’t answer until after our song,” he said, spinning her again.
Work had always come first, and she never complained, but at that moment, she wanted to rip the phone from the wall.
The ringing stopped.
Both their cell phones buzzed, vibrating in tandem across the slick countertop.
She tensed in his arms. Couldn’t the world not fall apart long enough for them to enjoy their happiness?
As the song ended, he brushed his thumb across her furrowed brow and kissed her.
Their cellphones went off again.
Gideon answered his. “What?”
“Must be important,” her dad said. “It’s Saturday.”
Hannah eyed Willow and smiled but looked sad, as if she understood.
“Fine. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Gideon hung up. “There was a hit on your keyword search.”
After Doc had finally gotten useless answers at Fort Detrick, Willow had created a program that searched for specific keywords in any online communication. Figuring out which keywords to use that would get them closer to the stolen bioweapons without pinging millions of irrelevant messages had been painstaking.
“Something legitimate this time?”
He brought her back into his arms, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Z-1984.”
Didn’t get more legitimate than that.
“First,” he said, “I want a do-over on my dance. Uninterrupted.”
This was their first credible hit in nine weeks and he wanted to dance? “We should leave. It’s important.”
“There’s always something important. Urgent. Dire. We don’t get any other kind of mission. But you’re more important to me. So is what we have. We have to grab moments like these when we can. One more song, then we go. What do you say?”
Losing her mother at an early age, coming close to death herself more than once, and almost losing Gideon had taught her not to take one second for granted. The Gray Box could wait an extra three minutes and fourteen seconds. “Play it again, Dad.”
Gideon scooped her up in a bear hug, twirling her in the kitchen. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
“Now, that’s music to my ears!” Her dad chuckled, his body shaking with laughter, and reached for the bacon.
Hannah smiled, pulling the plate from his grasp.
They swayed in the kitchen to their new song, in their new house, singing the lyrics to each other, and glorying in every precious second.
Author’s Note
I love the Washington metropolitan area, which I currently call home. If you are familiar with the Capital Beltway, you might notice I altered some locations and took a few liberties with minor details to suit the flow of the story. I did my best to retain as much authenticity as possible to depict the richness, diversity, and energy of the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia).
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the men and women who fight to protect our freedom. Your sacrifices are appreciated.
Without the support and love of my biggest cheerleaders, my husband and two kiddos, I wouldn’t have been able to write this book. I’m so grateful for your belief in me.
Publishing a book is a collaborative effort. Thank you to Mary Altman for backing this series and for giving such insightful editorial guidance. It’s a blessing to have an editor who gets your voice and shares your vision. You have been an amazing, protective partner on this series, and I appreciate you more than you know.
Thanks to my agent, Sara Megibow, who is always an incredible source of support, encouragement, and advice, all of which I would be lost without.
To the entire team at Sourcebooks, you really do make dreams come true. Thank you for all the hard work you put into publishing books.
Finally, thanks to the readers for picking up this book and opening your hearts to my characters. Your support is everything.
Also by Juno Rushdan
Final Hour
Every Last Breath
Nothing to Fear
Turn the Tide romantic suspense anthology
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