Page 20 of Faded Rhythm

When they let go and skip off to the door, I find myself smiling like an idiot.

Once they’re gone, I grab my empty plate and head to the kitchen. Habit, but also a little guilt. I terrorized this woman earlier today. I can take care of the fucking dishes.

I fill the sink and start washing.

She appears a few minutes later, leaning against the counter, wine glass in hand, frowning at the sight of me elbow-deep in suds.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

I glance at her. “It’s the least I can do.”

She lifts her glass. “Want some?”

I shake my head. “I don’t drink on missions.”

She chuckles, clearly amused by that. “You say that like this is a military op.”

I look at her, my expression neutral. “Maybe it is.”

The smile fades a little. She studies me over the rim of her glass as she takes another sip. I can see the wine start to loosen her. Her posture relaxes. Her shoulders drop. Her voice softens, which hardly seems possible given the sweet, melodic softness it already had.

“What do you do for fun, King?”

I hesitate, scrubbing the plate a little harder. “I don’t talk about my life.”

She pulls back, her tone shifting. “Of course not. Everything aboutyouis classified.”

“It’s not personal,” I say. “It’s safer this way.”

She stands there watching as I finish the dishes. I turn to her as I’m drying my hands.

“We need to stage a photo for Brett. I’ll send it to him to convince him I did the job.”

She blinks. “A photo?”

I nod. “Nothing gory.”

“I would hope not. I don’t happen to have any fake blood lying around.”

“We don’t need it,” I say. “He won’t be thinking straight enough to question it or run a forensic analysis. He just needs to believe it long enough for us to get you out of here.”

She bites her lip, and I look elsewhere.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Lie down. Wherever you want. But you need to be wearing whatever you normally sleep in,” I say, eyeing her dress.

She giggles softly. “I…I usually sleep naked.”

My body reacts before my brain does. I clench my jaw, eyes locked on a spot just to the left of her head.

“Obviously, you’ll be dressed,” I say. “I’ll just tell him you were still awake when I broke in.”

“Why obviously?”

I bring my eyes back to hers, wondering if she’s serious. “Because I know you don’t wanna be naked in front of me.”

There’s a pause. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “I mean…if it makes it more believable, I will.” Her voice is steady, and I know she’s serious. “It needs to believable, right?”

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