Kira Sinclair - The Risk-Taker

That he’d almost died.

A familiar temper that she thought she’d dealt with years ago punched through her. Logically, she realized she shouldn’t be upset with him for serving his country. And, really, she didn’t want to be. He’d made an honorable career choice.

One that had almost killed him.

Hope rolled her shoulders, and fought the urge to reach out and touch him—to make sure that he was real and there, instead of stuck in some dark hole in the middle of a hostile country.

To her, enlisting had been tantamount to Gage signing his own death warrant. She knew him too well. He was constantly pushing boundaries, testing himself and everyone around him. And it wasn’t as if he’d been destined for a desk job. Oh, no, it had been the front lines or nothing for him. From the moment he’d signed up his intention had been to get that Ranger Tab. And he’d done it.

But the thought of losing someone else she cared about … Hope just couldn’t do it.

Not that it had mattered any when the phone call about his capture had come into the newsroom. She hadn’t talked to him in twelve years and it had still felt as if her world was suddenly spinning out of control. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and didn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time until he’d been rescued.

So he was home and safe with only a few scars to show for the adventure. That status quo wouldn’t keep, and Hope knew it.

The butterflies swarmed up her throat, choking her. She swallowed them back down. And jerked her gaze straight up to Gage’s. He watched her, frowning.

Throwing her a dark glance, he grabbed a chair from another table and spun it close. “Gage,” Lexi yelped when he picked her up, chair and all, to make room. Her embarrassed gaze darted around. “What are you doing?”

With a negligent shrug, he set her down again and insinuated himself between Hope and Lexi. “Hiding.”

“Well, you suck at it,” Hope said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Willow gasped at her unintended pun. Hope cringed inwardly and fought the urge to look at the appendage she’d inadvertently brought into the conversation. Her nose wrinkled. Gage’s eyes narrowed.

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