Page 49 of Hidden Attraction

He let the smirk play on his lips. “Yet.”

She laughed, and the pressure between them eased for the first time all evening. He reached over, swept a thumb over her cheek, lingering just a beat too long.

Her full lips parted in invitation. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

He leaned in, close enough to catch the shift in her breath. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Their eyes locked.

A car honked nearby. A baby cried somewhere on the next street. The city didn’t pause, didn’t care that something unspoken crackled in the narrow space between them.

She looked away first. “Let’s get back. We’ve got a hell of a trail to follow.”

Chase nodded, standing and offering her his hand.

As she slipped her fingers into his, he thought again about the interpreter’s story and the choices forced on a man who only wanted to protect his family.

It was a reminder—truth was always layered. Buried in guilt, wrapped in silence, shaded by grief.

But they were starting to unearth it.

He looked out at the pedestrians passing them on the street. That same prickle of being watched crawled up his nape. When he caught a man glancing their way, his legs bent as he prepared to chase him.

Lieutenant Rezvan.

Alyssa’s hand clamped on his thigh. “Julian—”

“I see him. It’s not a coincidence.”

“He’s watching us,” she murmured under her breath even though the man had vanished into the crowd.

Chase’s gut warned him the real danger hadn’t even begun yet.

Though he didn’t know what would come of this op—or what would happen with Alyssa after it was finished—there was one thing he trusted every day of his life.

His instincts.

* * * * *

The door to the safehouse clicked shut behind them, muffling the nighttime sounds of the street. Alyssa exhaled slowly, shrugging out of her scarf and lightweight linen jacket while Julian did a sweep of the space.

Dust and worry clung to her like a second skin, and no amount of fresh air would scrub away what they’d just learned from the interpreter over dinner.

She watched Julian from across the room, the way he moved with precise, quiet control. A subtle tremor stirred low in her belly.

The protector in him never clocked out. It was written in the angle of his shoulders, the way his hand kissed the small of her back as she passed him—like he couldn’t help it.

She needed that tonight.

Flopping onto the edge of the bed, she stared at the undecorated space but she wasn’t seeing the walls or furniture. She saw the tear dribbling from the corner of Mahmoud’s eye, inexorable.

Julian joined her, sitting close, his body radiating heat and strength. “You okay?”

She didn’t bother coming up with a lie. She just rubbed a fingertip between her brows and compressed her lips.

He touched her again, barely a skimming of his fingers over the crest of her cheek. But it was enough to keep her going.

“I’ll message Dante.”

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