his hand. He’d had to stop meeting the eyes of anyone young enough to flirt—it was apparently a good thing to be a mysterious stranger and a hero.
Conall had given in to the grateful flirtation of one of the hostages, a tall man with dark, serious eyes and a week’s worth of scruff. They whirled wildly through the dancing, and Conall laughed in a way Knox hadn’t heard in weeks.
It was all worth it, just for that.
Gray stepped up beside him, a tall mug of beer in one hand. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“It’s pretty weird.”
Gray chuckled. “You don’t even know which part I’m talking about.”
“It’s all pretty weird,” Knox retorted. “I mean, not Conall going straight for the guy who looks angry and damaged. That’s reassuringly normal. But the rest of it? Weird.”
“I guess.” Gray sighed. “I owe you an apology.”
It seemed impossible that the tough conversation in the car had only happened that morning. Knox felt like a lifetime had passed. Like he was a different person. “You don’t. I need you to say the hard shit to me, the stuff no one else will say.”
“What? No, not this morning. Hell, Knox—I’m talking about this place. Me wanting to leave at the first hint of trouble.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that, either.” Knox sipped his beer. It was sweet and full, almost like a cider. Better than the usual homebrew the folks of Dalton brought out for tourists. “We still need to retrieve Luna, and this was a risk. You’re the only one of us who’s never lied to himself about this job.”
“Yeah, but…” Gray waved his mug in the direction of the makeshift dance floor. “If you had listened to me—if we had left—then they’d all be dead. Gone. All of this … life.”
As much as he’d depended on Gray as his second, Knox had never really crossed that invisible line between captain and friend. He knew his men. He understood them, could join in their banter, enjoy their company. But when it came time to make the hard decisions, the life-or-death calls over who could be saved and who became collateral damage …
That responsibility—that misery—he’d always kept for himself.
“It’s not easy,” he said softly, “having the kind of power we do. Do you know how many people I’ve left behind over the years, Gray? How many people I couldn’t save? It was my call and my responsibility, but you were right today. I’m not your captain anymore. I don’t have the right to decide who you save and who you don’t. You’re the only one who can decide what your life is worth or who you should risk it for. And you’re gonna fuck it up sometimes. I sure as hell have.”
“It’s not my life I’m trying to pin a price tag to these days, Knox.” Gray saluted him. “It’s my conscience.”
The salute had an air of finality. It was Gray, truly saying farewell to his captain. Knox returned it solemnly. “If we pull this off, maybe we’ll all have time to figure that out.”
“Even if we don’t, it’s been an honor. Sir.”
Knox raised his beer. “Same to you, Gray.”
Gray finished his beer and went in search of a refill. Knox sipped his own, letting his gaze drift over the crowd. Maya was near the edge of the square, knocking back moonshine with a steely-eyed older woman and two grizzled vets. Rafe went charging by, roaring, with two children clinging to his back and squealing with laughter. Even Dani had unbent enough to play darts with a few of the locals, and judging from their occasional groans, some amount of wagering was involved.
He drained his beer and made another sweep, finally admitting to himself that he wasn’t checking up on his people.
He was looking for her.
Someone came by to top off his beer. He chatted briefly with the owner of the trading post, who promised to refill their biofuel stores tomorrow, on the house. Finally, as the music changed from a strong, energetic beat to something slower, Knox’s patience was rewarded.
The crowd parted. Nina drifted into the opening, her face alight with joy as a gray-haired old man spun her through the steps of some old-fashioned dance.
She’d cleaned up at some point and changed her clothes. The simple sundress she wore left her toned arms bare and fluttered around her knees. She was like the fantasy of a simpler world come to life, a world of honest work and country dances and lazy nights under the