Chelsea had been Sara’s employee and friend. And Sara had nearly gotten her fiancé killed.“Hello?” Chelsea repeated.“Chels,” Sara said softly. Do you know that it was my fault? she thought, but didn’t say.There was a moment of stunned silence, then a long, shuddering exhale. “Sara.” There was a wealth of relief and grief in the word.“How are they? Are they going to be okay?” Sara’s voice broke as grief, guilt and tears clogged her throat.“I’m on my way to the hospital now—” Chelsea broke off, clearing her throat. “They’re both going to be okay. Fax was stunned and knocked around, and cracked a couple of ribs. They’re watching him for internal bleeding, but the outlook is good.”Sara’s lungs had locked on the recitation, as the list of Fax’s injuries brought home just what a terrible situation they were in. She’d wanted to hear “he’s fine, just got the wind knocked out of him.” It was what she’d expected for a man who’d always seemed a little larger than life, even back when she’d first met him and none of them—except Chelsea, of course—had been certain he was the deep-cover agent he claimed, instead of the fugitive the law considered him.
