Chapter 5

Blake stood next to her helicopter, wondering how she'd gone from hiding in the shadows, to stepping into the light in such a short time. Had it really only been three weeks since Kilauea had started erupting and everything had changed?

Since Kian had walked into her life.

Because it felt longer. A lifetime, ago.

Though, maybe that was because she hadn't really been living before that night. Had been going through the motions, trudging through each day just trying to survive. Staying on the fringes. Anything to avoid being noticed.

Noticed meant she might be recognized or inadvertently get her photo taken. Something that could make its way back to the Russo family — blow her cover. And for the past eighteen months, she'd had no trouble keeping to herself. Other than her outings with Presley, Blake had been a virtual recluse. She only flew jobs that had been secured with clients the Marshal Service had set up for her, Hawk's organization being one of them. She also helped out the various police stations, and the ranger units. The kind of people who'd been deemed low risk.

So, accompanying Kian damn near every night to what had become his team's local bar was dangerous. Borderline suicidal because it meant she was out there, setting herself up for one hell of a possible backlash.

She groaned. As usual, she was being overly paranoid. She was still following the rules the Marshals had drilled into her. Still taking every precaution possible. After all, wasn't she supposed to be able to live, too? Have some semblance of happiness after all she'd given up?

She wasn't sure, but she'd be damned if she could stop. Step back into those shadows because for the first time in her life, she'd found someone she wasn't sure she could walk away from.

Which was crazy in its own right. Sure, Kian had given her clear signals he wanted more than just a casual fling while he and his buddies were helping out. In fact, they were already talking about staying. About joining Hawk's outfit — something about buying that stupid bar because the owners had decided it was time to move on. Nothing concrete, yet, but the possibility was there. And that's what was slowly chipping away at her resolve to stay distant.

She glanced at Kian when he laughed. Since their accidental first kiss, he'd been playing it cool. Allowing her to decide when they got physical. Which had been pretty much every time she'd been close to him. They'd kept it on the down low. Had managed to avoid any kind of public display that would broadcast they were more than just buddies who hung out. What she assumed his friends still thought. And while she hadn't quite made it into Kian's bed, it was headed that way. And she knew, once they crossed that line, there would be no coming back. That he'd hold the only part of her she'd salvaged from her past.

She gazed at the ground, toeing the concrete as she warred with the voices arguing in her head. It wasn't just the risk that was eating at her. It was the lying. True, it was necessary — the one rule she couldn't break for any reason — but it still felt wrong. Especially when simply being close to him — to Presley and Waylen and the rest of Kian's crew — put them in danger, and she hated keeping that from them. They'd more than proven they could be trusted — probably knew more top secret intel from their years in Special Forces than what the Marshal Service dealt with in a year. She owed it to them to tell them the everything — allow them to decide if she was worth the possible fallout.

Or if they'd rather she disappear.

Though, neither Presley, nor Kian seemed like the kind of people who would balk at danger. In fact, none of Kian's crew seemed the type. Instead, she had a nagging suspicion they'd rally around her — use all that SEAL training to either keep her safe or take the fight to Russo.

Not an option, and it was the one thing holding her back from pouncing on Kian. What if she jumped and it turned into something serious? Permanent? Because it felt that way.

Like fate.

And she wasn't sure if she could live the rest of her life keeping that secret. Not that he wouldn't figure it out sooner or later. Kian was shrewd. He already suspected she was running. Or maybe hiding. Something that kept her from posing for a selfie or allowing the local newspaper to mention her in a story they'd just wrapped up on Presley and Waylen. Hometown couple reuniting after facing death together. Some feel-good piece that was sure to put Driftwood Tours on the map.

Not just the journalist had been puzzled when Blake had refused. Kian's team had been, too. All of them unsure why she'd passed up an opportunity that would have resulted in more work. Thankfully, they'd let it slide. But she knew Kian was working through all the possible scenarios, and it wouldn't take him long to land on the only one that made sense.

A damn Catch-22.

Blake looked up, smiling when Kian glanced over at her, that boyish charm making it seem ten degrees hotter. He turned and said something to Waylen — probably razzing the guy because Waylen and Presley had just discovered their lack of restraint, and condoms, had resulted in her getting pregnant — then started toward her, his sexy swagger nearly taking her to her knees.

God he was gorgeous. And she knew she wouldn't be able to hold out, much longer.

He stopped far closer than a friend would, leaning in until his mouth was level with hers. Those sexy lips within kissing distance. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

He'd been calling her that for over a week. Maybe longer because she didn't even remember when it had started. As if he'd snuck it in without her noticing and by the time she'd finally grasped the full weight of the endearment, it had been too late to call foul.

Especially when she loved the way it rolled off his tongue.

Blake held her ground, knowing he enjoyed it when she challenged him. "Maybe you should tell me."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Maybe what's on my mind is dangerous."

He arched a brow. "I don't know. I've been walking this maze for a few weeks, now, and I'm still waiting for all those monsters to show up."

She did her best not to react, realizing she'd failed when his mouth twitched a bit. His only tell. "Trust me. They're real."

"So's my promise to slay them."

God, he was serious. Serious and brave and she wanted him to slay them. Give her a moment's peace without constantly watching over her shoulder.

Kian frowned. "Hey… Are you okay? You look pale, all of a sudden."

"I…"

She gave him a nudge when Waylen and Presley headed their way, eyes wide. Mouths pursed.

Kian muttered a curse under his breath, taking her hand as he turned. "You've already got your girl. Must you interrupt my attempts to charm Blake?"

Waylen snorted, though, it sounded forced. "If it hasn't happened after all this time, brother…"

"Wise ass. So, where's the fire? Because you both look like you just lost your best friend." He inhaled. "Shit, is everything okay with the baby? I mean, it's insanely early, but do you need medical help? A trip to emergency? I've got my bag?—"

"Whoa, buddy, breathe. Christ, for someone who never loses their cool, you just hit DEFCON one without any reason. We're fine, and as far as I know, the baby's fine. Like you said. It's early, but other than some puking, it's good."

Kian slapped Waylen on the chest. "Don't freaking scare me like that. Dealing with tangos and gunshot wounds is one thing. Thinking Presley might be hurt…"

Presley hitched out a hip. "I'm standing right here. And I'm fine. But…"

"But…"

She sighed, focusing on Blake. "It's about that newspaper article they just wrote."

Blake nodded, the inklings of fear slithering down her spine. "What about it?"

Blake had already scoured every word, every image, to ensure the newspaper crew hadn't taken photos of her behind her back. Maybe mentioned her name. Not that the Russo family would recognize Garrett, but if there was even a hint of something familiar, they'd make the connection and come looking.

Presley pursed her lips even more, glancing at Waylen and Blake knew that everything was about to get ugly. "Remember Mano? That detective we had looking into my scumbag ex? He just called. Wanted to know if we'd seen the follow-up video, yet."

Blake swallowed, coughed when it didn't get past the lump in her throat before trying, again. Nearly choking, this time. "Follow-up video? What video?"

Presley held out her phone. "I… I don't know what to say. I mean… I had no idea. And…"

But Blake already had the damn thing running. Staring as some twenty-year old kid started talking. Commenting on the article then claiming how the newspaper had neglected to include the best part. How it had all started with a harrowing rescue at sea.

It only got worse from there. Live footage of her hovering over the ocean, Kian half hanging out of the chopper as Waylen tried to heave the injured man into the basket. Snapshots of the machine dancing in the gusting wind, everything backlit by the crimson glow of the volcano. The only saving grace because it kept the helicopter silhouetted in the sky. Nothing but a black outline against the red. What might make this catastrophe nothing more than a nuisance.

Until it faded into a photo of her leaning against the hospital wall as she'd waited for Kian to come back out. It was dark and slightly out-of-focus, but there was no doubt it was her. Not to anyone who knew her.

Having the guy end by saying that while he wouldn't divulge her name, she was certainly living up to her nearly Five-O namesake, was the last deadly straw. The one that would have her handler, U.S. Deputy Marshal Adam Porter, ringing her cell any moment, now.

Or worse, Henry Russo's hitmen storming the ranch.

Blake let her hand fall to her side, that photo still visible even after she closed her eyes. After everything she'd been through — all the precautions she'd taken, the years she'd stayed in the dark just to uphold her oath — she couldn't believe it would end like this.

That she'd lose everything. Again.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, and she looked up, staring into Kian's blue eyes. God, was this the last time she'd see them? See him? Feel at all safe because she realized that, now. The reason she'd gone out to the bar — spent all her free time with him. He'd already slayed half those monsters with nothing more than his smile. His strong arms around her waist.

And now, she'd have to leave.

Kian grabbed her shoulders, easing her back until her ass was braced against the chopper and he was able to shove her head down by her knees. He moved in beside her, bridging her weight as he bent over until he was level with her. Had his mouth next to her ear.

"Breathe, Blake. Try to get your lungs working or you're gonna pass out on me."

Breathe? How could she breathe when her life was crumbling around her? Only this time, she wouldn't have any hope left because he wouldn't be coming with her.

He shook his head, getting even closer. "Whatever this is, we'll deal with it. Just please… relax enough to take a breath."

Dots started eating away the edges of her vision, sliding left and right until she managed to gasp in a quick breath — stop herself from falling on the cement.

Kian lifted her up then snugged her against his chest, drawing gentle circles along her back. "That's it. In and out. Slower. Good, now hold it…"

He smiled against her forehead, dropping a soft kiss on her skin before tilting her head up. "Better. Just keep breathing."

She nodded, knowing she didn't really have any other choice. That she needed to pull herself together and take stock.

She leaned against him for a couple more minutes then eased back. Doing her best to regain her composure. Kian loosened his grip, but he didn't move away, staying close enough he'd catch her if she fainted.

Presley blinked back tears when Blake finally managed to do more than suck air in then push it out, biting at her lower lip. "God, Blake. I'm so sorry. If I'd known one of the passengers had filmed it with their phone…"

Blake managed to hold her chin high — meet Presley's expectant gaze. "It's not your fault. It's just…"

How could she tell them how epically bad this was and not tell them who she really was? What deadly consequences that five-minute video and photo might have? And not just on her. No one was safe as long as she was close.

Waylen stepped forward, slipping the phone out of her hand. "I'm assuming this is bad. Having that photo of you on the internet."

He hadn't really asked, and she could only nod, again. He looked at Kian, then back to her. "What level of bad are we talking… Kinda? Sorta? Seriously?"

When she simply stared at all of them, Waylen grunted.

He made direct eye contact. "So, it's worse than seriously."

She swallowed, hoping she wouldn't start screaming the moment she opened her mouth. "How long…" She waved at the phone, thankful she'd gotten those two words out without puking.

Waylen did something with the phone, then met her gaze. "Nearly forty-eight hours."

"Shit."

"I realize that must seem bad, but this kid's a nobody. I tell you what. I'm going to borrow the Brotherhood Protector's computers and hack my way into this asshole's account and delete the video. Then, I'll insert a virus so when he tries to get it back online, it takes his entire profile down. I'll also scan the web to see if it's been rebroadcast on any other channels. Okay?"

She stared at him, still trying to process the fact her blurry photo had been online for nearly two days, and she'd missed it, when his words caught up. "Wait. You can do that? Erase it?"

Waylen grinned. "Hell, yeah. Stay here. I'll be back." He took off with Presley, heading for Hawk's office.

Kian moved in behind her, placing his hands on her waist as if he knew she was about to bolt. Or faint. "Will that help?"

She shrugged. "It can't hurt."

"But, even if Waylen erases it, you'll be worried, won't you?"

She turned in his embrace, palming his chin. Doing her best to memorize every nuance of him, from the fine lines around his eyes to the shadowed scruff on his jaw. "Honestly, I don't know. Why don't we wait until we see what Waylen has to say?"

Kian narrowed his eyes. "Why doesn't that sound reassuring?"

"Because I'm not the only one who's paranoid?"

She worked up a smile, trying to rationalize the situation. And now that the sheer shock of seeing the video had passed, she was able to think more clearly. And maybe they were right? Maybe it hadn't gotten more than a handful of views? And what were the chances anyone connected to the Russo cartel had seen it? It's not like it had her name attached. Even the Garrett suggestion wasn't something they'd pick up on. So, chances were, she'd be fine as long as Waylen worked a miracle.

In fact, the more she ran it over in her head, the more it made sense that unless U.S. Deputy Marshal Porter called her — told her she'd blown her cover — it likely hadn't reached anyone off the island, let alone the east coast.

After all, Blake had alerts set up if anything remotely close to her or the case cropped up. And seeing as she hadn't gotten a single notification…

She took a soothing breath, hoping it had just been that paranoia getting the better of her when something glinted near the bushes.

That's all she needed before she had Kian by the waist — was tackling him to the ground. No hesitation, just a lunge and they were on the helipad, his body beneath hers, her gaze sweeping the landscape. What was probably some hitman or mafia lackey hiding in the brush ready to take them out with a sniper rifle. Or maybe a drone. Either way, she wasn't moving until she'd been proven wrong, or she was dead.