Chapter 67

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It's not until two days later John gets home.

I sprint through the house to the front door, throwing my arms around him before he can even enter. He staggers back in surprise, and then he holds me, burying his face in my hair and inhaling.

"Hello, sweetheart," he tells me.

I pull back to look at his face. He's like a mirror image of my own healing process — swelling reduced, yellow bruises. I hold him, and I take all of him in with my eyes, seeing my own happiness mirrored in his own. He smiles.

"Fuck, I missed you," he murmurs, pulling me in for a kiss.

"What happened? Where's Tommy?" I ask.

"He'll be home in the morning. Someone fucked up a shipment," John sighs.

"So... no guns?" I ask. "No danger?"

He laughs. "I think you're going to be very disappointed with your job," he says, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "It's rarely as exciting as getting kidnapped."

"Thank god for that," I mutter. Then I hesitate. We haven't spoken about what happened — not in any depth. Not alone, like this. I inhale shakily, searching for words. "John... I—"

"Don't even think about it," he warns, already sensing what I'm going to say.

"No, please, I need to," I insist.

"You are not fucking responsible for this." He's so firm that, for the first time, I see the John that our enemies must see. The one nobody would dare fuck with. "This is not your fault. And I could be carrying the guilt of what happened to you. I was supposed to protect you, remember? But if I did that..." He presses his lips together, hands clenching as he pulls away, before holding me once more. "If I did that, Bancroft, I'd have put a fucking gun to my head by now. So let's agree not to torture ourselves. Alright?"

Tears swim in my eyes. But as I look at him, I can't help but love him. My happiness. I can't help but smile.

"Alright," I tell him, blinking my tears away.

He pretends to be shocked. "Are you actually... listening?" He asks.

I hit him on the shoulder, trying to be offended, but he grins and wraps me in his arms once more, walking us goofily through the house all pressed together.

Michael comes down the stairs, tugging his coat on. He nods at John, before raising his eyebrows at me. "You ready?" He asks.

"Taking her away from me already?" John asks.

"You'll just love me all the more when I return," I say.

"Not possible." He kisses me once more. "Have fun. I'll have a roast chicken ready by the time you get back."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Will it be... edible?"

He shakes his head, grinning. "I'll make sure yours is full of fucking bones now."

I squeal as he jabs me in the ribs, but pull my coat and hat on in the hallway. Michael opens the front door, and we step out into the cold.

"You going to tell me what it is yet?" I ask.

"Still a surprise, I'm afraid," he replies.

We drive for almost an hour, and I begin to worry we won't be home in time for John's dinner. But eventually we come to a large warehouse-type building in the middle of nowhere. My curiosity piqued, I stare at the building, at the long strip of road the other side. A runway...

We pull to a stop. Michael opens my door and we both get out, then he leads me into the hangar.

"These planes," he tells me, "are all yours."

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