Page 27 of Code Name: Ghost

“You survived,” he says simply. “And you kept me alive, too.”

That pulls my gaze back to his, my heart stuttering in my chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Cherise,” he replies, standing and offering his hand to pull me to my feet. His grip is firm, steadying, and I hate how much I need it.

For a moment, we just stand there, the space between us charged with something I can’t name. His hand lingers on mine longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over my skin in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Thank you,” I say finally, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He steps back, breaking the connection and leaving me feeling untethered. “Get cleaned up. I’ll check the perimeter.”

I nod, grateful for the excuse to escape, and head to the bathroom. The mirror shows a reflection I barely recognize—my hair disheveled, my cheeks flushed, my eyes wide and haunted, but more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I splash cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the memories of the chase, the fear, the way Nick’s touch lingers on my skin.

By the time I step out, he’s back, his laptop open on the small kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He doesn’t look up as I approach, his focus on the screen.

“What are you working on?” I ask, leaning on the table and taking a sip of his whiskey.

He looks up, quirks an eyebrow, and grins. “Figuring out what our next move is.”

I take a step closer, peering over his shoulder. The screen is filled with data—maps, intercepted messages, images of Hector and René that make my stomach churn.

“You think they’ll come after us again?” I ask, my voice softer now.

“That’s a given,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s only a matter of time. You’re a loose end to them.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “So what do we do?”

His gaze finally lifts, locking onto mine. “We stay ahead of them and we don’t make mistakes.”

I’m not sure why his words hit me so hard. Maybe it’s the way he says them, so certain, so unyielding. Or maybe it’s the realization that, for all his strength, Nick is just as vulnerable as I am. He just hides it better.

I move closer, drawn to him in a way I can’t explain, until I’m standing right beside him. My hand brushes against his shoulder, pretending to study the screen but acutely aware of every inch of space between us—or lack thereof.

“Do you ever stop being in control?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “No.”

The single word shouldn’t make my heart race, but it does. I hate how much I crave the safety of his control, how much I want to surrender to it, if only for a moment.

“You can’t control everything,” I say, my voice softer now.

“Maybe not, but I can control enough to keep us alive,” he replies, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.

The air between us shifts, heavy and electric, and I swear the room feels smaller. I don’t know who moves first—him or me—but suddenly, I’m pressed against the table, his body crowding mine, his hands braced on either side of me.

“You’re playing with fire,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl.

“Maybe I like the heat,” I whisper, unable to look away from him.

His eyes darken, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting some internal battle. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, and my breath catches, anticipation flooding every inch of me. But then he steps back, breaking the spell. “Go to bed, Cherise.”

The command is sharp, final, and it cuts through me like a blade. “Nick...”

“Goodnight,” he says, already turning back to his laptop.

I watch him for a moment, frustration and something deeper churning inside me. But I know, I remember, better than to push him when he’s like this. With a huff, I retreat to my room, the door clicking shut behind me.

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my body still thrumming with unspent energy. The memory of his touch, his voice, lingers, a cruel reminder of everything I can’t have.

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