The agents sped off in pursuit of the Navigator, making Virginia wonder if they'd known it was there all along. Torn between following Mark's wishes and giving chase herself, she hesitated, watching the distance between her car and theirs spread. No, no, no, no, no. She was directionless without the agents leading the way. This was why she had come—to find him—and now she was going to . . . What? Sit and wait?

"Screw this!" she hollered.

She was about to stomp down on the accelerator when movement in her peripheral vision had her cranking her head around, ready to ram whomever dared get in her way. A second motorcycle—a silver one this time—had pulled up alongside her. This biker pointed a finger to a spot on the helmet above the visor before pointing to her. There was something there . . . something pink stood out on its white surface . . . a faint outline of . . .

Lipstick!

Her lipstick, from the kiss she had placed there the day he'd helped paint the gym. It had to be him. Who else would know about the lipstick? But how was it possible? The rider seemed to sense her questions. He nodded and put his hand over his heart before pointing to her again. It had to be him. Didn't it?

When he motioned for her to follow, she moved into position behind him. They stayed on the highway for the next twenty minutes with the biker looking back every so often to reassure her.

Or to make sure she was still falling for it.

Either way, she had to find out.

They were close to the airport when he exited. After ten more minutes of twists and turns around low-rise commercial buildings mixed in with hotels, he pulled into what looked like a high-security building and she followed, surprised when the guard at the gate waved her through.

Entering the parking garage set her nerves on edge—an easy trap—but with no other options available, she went where he did. Until he parked. No way was she pulling into the spot beside him. Instead, she braked and waited, keeping her hand on the gear shifter in case she needed to shove the thing into reverse and get the hell out of Dodge.

The helmet came off . . . She was out of her car in a heartbeat, in his arms with the next.

"No more separations," Mark said hoarsely.

"No." She stared up at him in wonder, hoping this wasn't a dream. When he leaned down and kissed her, all doubt about reality disappeared. No sub-conscious mind could replace what he caused her to feel, no matter how great the imagination of the dreamer.

Coming up for air, he leaned his forehead on hers, his gaze moving down to her pregnant belly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was working up to it, and then Walt—" Her voice cracked as the memory came flooding back.

A deadly rage darkened his features. Okaaay, not her brightest move. To distract him, she took his hands and placed them on the baby's bulge. It worked. His face softened as his hands got their fill, the anger pushed away by his smile.

She used the moment to get her bearings and noticed the cameras lining the walls of the garage. "What is this place," she muttered.

"I guess we both have a lot of explaining to do." His voice dropped low as he leaned in close. "Later," he whispered before capturing her lips with his again, his body warm, hard, and demanding against hers, making her overlook the fact that they were likely being watched.

The sound of a distant motorcycle reminded her of the scene on the highway. She broke away from him as the questions came rushing back. "How is the lipstick still on there?"

"I haven't worn it." Suddenly his shoes required all of his attention. "To . . . you know"—he shrugged—"preserve it."

Holy cow, he looked like he might be blushing. This man never ceased to surprise her.

The rumble grew louder, close enough to make her look over just in time to see the black motorcycle pull to a stop inside the fence line. "Who is that?"

"You'll see."

The rider parked the bike and cut the engine. Then the helmet was yanked off, revealing dark curly hair.

"Paul!" she called to him.

"I led them right into the FBI road block," he shouted, heading over with a full-on swagger and a hell-yeah smile. "You should have seen their faces."

He turned serious upon reaching her, his gaze shifting down. "Guess I'm going to be an uncle again. Are you okay?"

"I am now."

Paul looked to Mark. "Did you tell her?"

"Not yet."

"Tell me what?" Virginia asked.

She tried to absorb as much as she could while they went over all the details of Mark's secret identity and the investigation into the Chilvati family. As the truth came out, it gave her further insight into the man she had come to love. What a cold and empty existence it must have been for him, living a lie for so many years. It couldn't have been easy pretending to be someone he wasn't. As the story went on, it cleared up a few inconsistencies she'd noticed but never asked about.

And left her wondering how well she really knew him.

The look on her face must have sent Mark into a panic, prompting him to say, "It's still me, Ginny. What happened between us was real."

"I know." She nodded. "It's just a lot to take in." With the facts still swimming in her head, she did a back-and-forth between the men in front of her. "I never thought I'd see the two of you working together."

"Yeah, well, don't get to used to it," Paul muttered before wrapping her in his arms to hold her tight and whisper, "He's a good man, but don't tell him I said so."

She smiled into his shoulder, wondering if her brother fully understood what his change of heart had done for hers.

)l(

Bruce turned to the sound of the door opening. Mark and Paul held back as she walked in, and he knew it was as a courtesy to him. To give him a moment. Alone. With her. Well, as alone as you could be with a bunch of uptight FBI agents swarming around.

She came to a standstill, rigid, open-mouthed, her eyes wide as they absorbed the scene in front of her. The moment they landed on him, though, a smile brightened her face. She ran the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. "Bruce," she sighed.

On impulse he leaned into the embrace. "It's good to see you," he said, closing his eyes to better concentrate on the feel and smell of her.

"My hero." She moved back and touched her stomach. "Our hero."

Agent Carter's voice coming up behind him had Bruce rolling his eyes. "FBI: Forever Butting In," he muttered.

"They rounded them all up. One of ours was shot, but it was minor," Carter announced.

Paul and Mark joined them to get the latest on the situation.

"What about Captain Beal?" Virginia asked.

"We gave him a debriefing. He's pissed about being kept in the dark but otherwise fine."

Virginia nodded. "I know how he feels."

The men laughed.

Introductions were made all around and they gave her a proper tour of the Nest.

A short time later, Agent Carter dropped the next bombshell. "I'm afraid you three are going to be staying here for a while." He pulled keys from inside his jacket. "There are apartments upstairs. You're welcome to go up and get settled. It's not quite up to your standards, but it's safe."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Mark said, his gaze riveted on Virginia.

She met his stare with a shy smile.

Bruce looked away. It wasn't hard to figure out what was on Mark's mind—anything with a bed would do just fine. Or maybe the bed was optional and all they really needed was a locked door. He felt a tinge of the familiar cold return.

Luckily, Paul offered a distraction. "Do you want me to bring anything back?" he asked them. "I'm going to swing by your house and fill the rest of the guys in before going to Virginia's."

"Grab me some clothes." Mark shot a glare in Carter's direction. "I didn't have a chance to pack."

"I could use some too," Bruce added.

"I'm fine. I still have my suitcase in the car," Virginia said.

"Got it. I'll be back soon," Paul said with a wave as he turned to leave.

Mark fell into step beside him, sliding an arm around Paul's shoulders and leaning in as they walked and talked.

"They've become awfully close," Virginia muttered.

Bruce took a long look at the two men before pushing out a, "Huh." When Mark and Paul both left the room without looking back, he added, "Should I should be jealous? Maybe the kid is trying to replace me as BFF."

She smacked him on the arm with a chuckle. "That kid is not much younger than you."

"Yeah, he's a good kid. I should give him a break. He's proven himself very useful over the last six weeks."

"Bruce Morgan, you'd better be careful. I'm starting to think you're a nice guy."

"Afghanistan makes you appreciate things," he said, feeling his gut twist with the words.

Her smile slipped away. "Was it horrible over there?"

"It had its positive points"—his mind flashed to Claire—"but I'm glad to be back."

"I recognize that look," she said. "You'll have to tell me all about her."

Is it that obvious? Not used to discussing personal feelings with . . . hell, anyone, his first instinct was denial. Except this was Claire they were talking about, and to deny what he felt for her seemed disloyal somehow.

Virginia crossed her arms and waited—pregnancy had not lessened that stubborn streak.

"Okay, okay," Bruce said. Then he smiled, knowing this was all they would ever have, this friendship, and he was fine with that. It felt right. It felt good. "I'd like that."

He slid an arm around her shoulders, just as Mark had done with Paul. "Come on, let's go check out the fancy digs they've given us."

Mark and Paul were still in the hallway, still huddled in their secret little convo, the two dark heads almost touching. They both looked over when Virginia and Bruce came through the door, just as the space between all of them was filled with a loud, Ding!

Something was definitely up. Bruce had been in combat with Mark enough times to recognize the man's fight-or-flight response to the elevator's arrival. "I'm going with Paul to the garage," he told her.

Flight it was, then.

"Oh . . . ah . . . okay," she replied. "Can you get my suitcase out of the trunk?"

"Sure."

The doors opened, and Mark all but shoved Paul onto the thing.

Virginia blinked up at Bruce.

He shrugged. "Don't ask me."

The other elevator arrived and the two of them rode up together. When the doors opened again, they were transported to a different time and place, a hallway of vibrant colors with plush carpeting underfoot and soft music being piped through speakers in the ceiling.

"Wow," she said.

He had to agree. It felt like they'd arrived at a vacation destination. Doors with numbered placards lined both sides. The tags on the keys led them to two across the hall from each other.

Virginia turned to him after pushing hers wide. "See you in a bit."

He nodded and moved to unlock his.

"Oh, and, Bruce?"

He twisted around, shifting his brows up toward his hairline.

Bracing the door with her foot, she brought her freed hand up in front of her, but instead of the expected gesture, it continued on to point at her scalp. "I really like the short hair."

Grinning, she pulled her foot away, letting the spring hinges take over. The heavy clap of metal hitting metal echoed all the way down the empty corridor.

Bruce stood a moment longer, alone with his thoughts, staring back at yet another closed door separating the two of them.

Only this time, he was able to smile at the symbolism.

END OF CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

They are safe and all together. Finally. Except for Claire of course. I haven't forgotten about her. Neither has Bruce from the sounds of it 🙁

What do you think Mark and Paul are up to?🤨

Yet another reference to book one here as things come full circle, as they say. Does everyone remember the lipstick on the helmet? 🤞

Dedicated to @rowanisarownow for sticking with me through this whole crazy ride, one chapter at a time! You make me smile😊❤️❤️

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️I appreciate all votes and comments.🗣🗣🗣🗣 Thank you!