Page 159 of Celestial Combat

She looked up at him. “Trev, these aresick.”

“And…” her brother added, tapping the bottom of the bag. “A little something extra.”

She pulled out an envelope and opened it, eyebrows shooting up when she saw the thick stack of bills inside. “What the hell,” she laughed, “Are you trying to bribe me into making Zane’s job easier?”

He shrugged, smug. “Never hurts to try.”

“God, you’re such a dad sometimes.”

“Yeah, well,” Trevor said, smirking. “Now I actually am.”

Kali laughed softly and hugged her brother again. She did that, every time he reminded her he was having a baby with Natalia.

“Thanks, Trev. Really.”

He smiled and pulled back. “Happy birthday, Kali.”

I watched them as I took a seat on one of the couches.

Her face flushed a little when she sat down on the couch across from me, legs tucked up under her, eyes flicking in my direction for only the briefest second.

Our game was on. Cold air between us for Trevor’s sake. Arms length. Distant.

But I knew exactly what she felt like pulled up against my chest under a blanket, what her lips tasted like half-asleep at dawn. What her tongue felt like on my six-pack.

And now she was wearing my hoodie while pretending we hadn’t ever kissed.

Trevor didn’t seem bothered. He knew she barely had time to pack.

I cleared my throat and smiled at her casually. “Happy birthday,” I said, nodding once, voice smooth.

She smiled back. “Thanks.”

Cold, my ass.

Trevor dropped onto the couch next to me, leaning back with the casual ease of someone who’d been in my home a hundred times before. “So, the shipment that came through in Pier 42…”

As Trevor and I began talking business, my focus was on Kali’s – just out of the corner of my eye.

She was now seated cross-legged on the floor rug near the coffee table –the rug we’d fucked on– the soft afternoon light from the windows spilling across her skin. Still in my sweatshirt, legs bare, she looked every bit like she belonged here – except for the sudden panic flashing across her face.

My stomach dropped.

She saw it before I did.

The damn photo album.

There it was, open and spread wide right in the center of the table like a landmine waiting to blow.

ThePolaroid.

The one she took of us. Her curled up against my chest, my hand holding up a white T-shirt to cover her tits after I’d sucked on them to make her come – both of us small-smiling like we didn’t have a care in the world. Stupidly soft. Completely damning.

I kept my face neutral, turning a little to hide the sudden shift in my posture.

Trevor didn’t notice. “You still keeping tabs on the Russians?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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