Sitting in one of the seats in the back of the plane, Jules got an uninterrupted view of Ash talking in a low tone with Xavier Quinn, who was on one of the sofas at the front. She couldn’t hear what the two men were saying, but judging by their grim expressions, it wasn’t pleasant.
Several moments later, Ash walked down the aisle toward her. With a heavy sigh, he dropped down into the seat across from her. “Eve called. Gideon’s out of surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but thankfully the bullet missed his femoral artery. They repaired the damage, but it’s going to be a few months before he’s fully operational again.”
“Thank God for that. It could have been so much worse.” When he didn’t answer, Jules couldn’t keep from saying, “You know what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Those amazing eyes cut over to her, and for the first time in hours, she saw something besides sorrow in them. Fury flared, pure and bright. Her comment had definitely pissed him off.
“And just whose fault is it?”
“How about Dalca’s for being such a slug and trying to use a human being as a shield? Or the woman who thought pulling a gun on her husband in a room full of people was a good idea?”
“Doesn’t negate my responsibility. I should have anticipated and—”
“Anticipated is one thing. Being able to predict the future is something else.”
“Predicting human behavior is my job. Desperate people act in irrational ways. It was my op, my responsibility. Period.”
Arguing would do no good. He was set on taking this on his own shoulders.
“What’s going to happen to Dalca?”
“That’s up to the Romanian authorities. The intel Eve obtained should give them what they need to put him away. If not…” He shrugged. “Eve’s cover is blown, so we’re probably out of it either way.”
“She could have saved her cover…explained away her concern for Gideon as compassion for a stranger.”
“Possibly. Yeah, probably. She’s my best deep-cover operative. She could’ve pulled it off.”
“Then why—”
“She and Gideon go back several years. The speed of his recovery might hinge on having her close by.”
“You care about your people.”
“Hell yeah, I care. Bullets and death have the ability to either bring people together or separate them forever. There’s not an OZ employee I wouldn’t die for, and every one of them would do the same. It’s how we survive.” He sent her a searing look. “You good with that?”
Was she good with possibly giving up her life for a virtual stranger? Yes, she was. That question had been asked and answered a long time ago.
“I am.”
His nod of approval meant something to her. They had both started out with different lives, but fate, or whoever was in charge of hellish situations, had put them at odds with a normal life. Both of them had survived the only way they knew how.
“So what’s next on OZ’s agenda?”
“We’ll regroup, then start on our next assignment.”
“I need to go home for a few days. Take care of some personal business.”
“Understood. You’ll need to report to the company doctor a week from Monday. I’ll text you the details.”
“Doctor?”
“For a complete physical. You look to be in good health, but I don’t take on operatives without knowing that for sure.”
That made sense. Being an OZ operative would likely be physically grueling.
“All right. And then—”
“Then you’ll be taken to a secure training facility. Put through the standard tests. Shooting, physicality, hand-to-hand. It’s a rough two days, but it’ll tell us what we need to know. Better yet, it’ll show you what we expect.”