Page 35 of Close Protection

"Getting there."

Julia reached for the top blanket, unfolding it and draping it around both theirshoulders without comment. The shared covering forced them closer still, thighs touching, arms pressed together from shoulder to elbow.

"Thank you," Ivy said, for the blanket and for the trust implied in the small gesture of connection.

"Just practical," Julia replied, but there was less conviction in her tone than usual.

The fire's warmth enveloped them, creating a cocoon of heat and light against the cold darkness. Ivy found herself acutely aware of Julia's breathing, the subtle scent of her skin beneath the cabin's woodsmoke, and the precise point where their bodies connected.

"What happens after?" Ivy asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After I testify and Knox is indicted."

Julia was silent for so long Ivy thought she might not answer. When she finally spoke, her words were careful.

"I don't know." A pause, then: "What do you want to happen?"

The question felt monumental, laden with possibilities neither had allowed themselves to consider. Ivy turned slightly, findingJulia already looking at her, firelight casting her features in amber and shadow. Her professional mask had slipped again, revealing something that made Ivy's breath catch.

"I think," Ivy said slowly, "I want to find out who Julia Scott is when she's not protecting someone."

Something shifted in Julia's expression, vulnerability and longing briefly visible before being carefully contained. They were close enough now that Ivy could feel the warmth of Julia's breath and see the precise moment her gaze dropped to Ivy's lips.

Time seemed to suspend, the storm and the cold and the danger all receding before the singular reality of their proximity. Ivy leaned forward slightly, drawn by an inevitability that had been building since that night at the Oceana Hotel.

Julia's hand came up, hovering just short of touching Ivy's face. For a breathless moment, Ivy thought she might close that final distance.

Instead, Julia drew back, though the effort was visibly painful. "We can't," she said, voice thick with restraint. "Not while you're under my protection."

"Julia—"

"I need to maintain objectivity to keep you safe." The words sounded rehearsed, a mantra repeated to reinforce resolve. "When this is over…that's different."

The promise implicit in those final words hung in the air between them, neither quite an admission nor quite a denial. Ivy watched as Julia rebuilt her composure, piece by careful piece.

"When this is over," Ivy echoed, acceptance and challenge blending in her voice.

Julia nodded once, then turned back to the fire, though she didn't pull away from their shared warmth. Outside, the storm continued its assault, but within their small circle of firelight, something had shifted—a truth acknowledged if not yet embraced.

They sat in silence, shoulders touching, as darkness claimed the world beyond their fragile sanctuary.

6

JULIA

Julia's eyes opened in the dim pre-dawn light, her body alert before her mind fully registered consciousness. She lay perfectly still, listening. The cabin creaked gently, settling after the storm. Rain still fell, but the violent downpour had softened to a steady patter against the metal roof.

She'd slept in intervals through the night, her body trained to rest without surrendering vigilance. Ivy remained asleep on the blanket nest before the dying embers of the fire, her honey-blonde hair splayed across the makeshift pillow, features softened in sleep.

Julia rose silently, careful not to disturb the blanket they'd shared. The memory of their near-kiss lingered, a complication she couldn't afford and couldn't entirely regret. She pushed the thought aside, moving to the window to assess their situation.

The forest glistened with remnants of the storm, branches heavy with rain, early light filtering through the clouds. No unnatural movement, no sign of pursuit. Yet something had woken her, some instinct honed through years of experience.

The satellite phone buzzed on the counter: a text, not a call. Julia retrieved it silently, already tensing at the unexpected communication. Morgan knew to maintain radio silence unless?—

The message contained no words, just a sequence of numbers: 24-7-12-19. Their emergency code.Weather clear but birds migrating early.Translation: Surveillance detected, approach with caution.

Julia's blood went cold. She texted back the acknowledgment sequence, then pocketed the device. Her mind immediately shifted to tactical assessment: supplies, escape routes, defensive positions. They hadperhaps an hour before whoever was watching made their move—maybe less.

The cabin's dimensions contracted around her, strategic weaknesses suddenly glaring. Too many windows. Limited exits. Forest cover that provided concealment for approach. She needed to wake Ivy, but not alarm her. Not yet.

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