Page 42 of Code Name: Hunter
I lower myself to the ground between his knees, knees pressing into the warm stone. The string lights above catch in his eyes as I take him into my mouth, slow at first, testing. His hand comes to rest in my hair, light, almost cautious. For a moment he lets me set the rhythm, my mouth sliding over him at my pace. But it doesn’t last.
His grip tightens, fisting my hair, and his guidance becoming insistence until I’m following where he leads. I try to resist, to reclaim the rhythm, but the pressure of his hand is steady, unrelenting. I give in, taking him deeper, and the sound he makes when he loses himself is raw and unguarded. He spills into me, and I swallow because I want to, because it feels like claiming something rare.
I barely have time to draw a breath before he moves. One instant I’m flushed with the illusion of control, the next he has me flat on my back against the bench cushion, his mouth crushing mine. His hands work my zipper down, stripping my pants and panties away in one smooth, impatient motion. The night air hits my bare skin, cool and sharp.
There’s no pause, no soft preamble. He drives into me in a single, sure thrust that knocks the air from my lungs. My body arches, opening for him with a sound I can’t stop. His kiss swallows it whole. His thrusts are relentless, precise, every stroke claiming me. I claw at his shoulders, nails digging in, every part of me strung tight. Pleasure builds fast and sharp, cresting until it shatters me in a rush that leaves me gasping. Hedoesn’t stop, carrying me higher, dragging me through another wave until my vision blurs and my body trembles with release. Only then does he break, spilling inside me with a shudder, his breath hot against my throat.
We stay tangled, locked together, until the world slowly settles back into focus. The city hums beneath us, with the faint rustle of leaves stirring in the planters. He shifts, pulling me upright, his hand steady at the back of my neck. Possessive. Protective. Always in control.
“Thank you for at least letting me have the illusion of control,” I laugh, my voice soft and uneven. “It means a lot to me.”
His eyes narrow, the warmth fading. The shift is subtle but unmistakable. The man who just burned me alive with his body is gone, replaced by the MI-6 operative who sees every angle.
“I trusted you,” he says, his tone measured. The words land heavy. “Now I need the truth.”
The pivot is jarring, dragging me from afterglow into interrogation. My chest tightens, but I force myself not to flinch. “Always, Logan,” I answer. Too fast. Too eager.
His gaze sharpens. “When was the last time you spoke to Wolfe? And what did you say?”
The name and the accusation land like a bomb. My stomach knots. “The last thing I said to him was before the op in Prague. I told him he didn’t get to play god.”
Logan goes still. His jaw ticks once, his eyes narrowing with lethal focus. “Two weeks ago, those exact words came through on a burner comm intercept. Clean, clear. The cadence matched Wolfe's . And it matched you.”
My breath catches. The rooftop tilts. “You’re saying he’s alive.”
“I’m saying if he is, he used your voice to send a message.” His voice is low, hard. “Either he stole it, or you gave it to him. Ifhe isn't, then someone is playing a far deeper game than we ever imagined.”
“I didn’t give Wolfe anything.” My voice snaps sharp. My heart hammers against my ribs. “If he has my voice, he stole it. I swear.”
He studies me, long and silent, his stare dissecting. Finally, he nods once. “Then we find out how he did it. Who helped him? And we close every door he opened.” His eyes lock on mine, steady and ruthless. “But if he marked you as bait, I need to know now.”
I shake my head. “If I was bait, he’s had plenty of chances to reel me in.”
“And yet, here we are.” His hand slides to the small of my back, the weight of it grounding me. “Tomorrow, we tear apart every channel. Yours, mine, his. No mercy for phantoms or things that go bump in the night.”
“Tonight,” I say, voice quiet but firm, “we agree on one thing. If you ever think I’m lying to you, don’t wait for proof in the field. Ask me. I’ll answer. If the truth ruins us, let it ruin us here.”
His stare pins me for a long beat. Finally, he nods. “Deal.”
Relief loosens something tight inside me. The city noise edges back into awareness. He bends, picks up the blindfold I dropped earlier, and tucks it into his pocket. A promise saved for another night.
“Put your pants on,” he says quietly. “I’m not sharing you with the skyline.”
The words pull a reluctant smile from me. I dress while he straightens his belt. When I step toward him, he catches my wrist, threading our fingers together. His grip is steady, neither gentle nor rough, something between ownership and partnership.
We clear the table in silence, the air between us charged with everything that’s been said and everything left unsaid. He opensthe stairwell door and waits for me to go first, his hand settling at the small of my back as I step inside. The pressure is light, but the message is unmistakable. He guides. I follow because I choose to.
At the landing, he leans close, his mouth brushing my ear. “Tomorrow, we hunt.”
I nod once; the words settling deep. The night feels sharper, cooler. Somewhere out there, a message rides a wire, waiting to wake. My words. Wolfe’s shadow. Logan’s suspicion. And our hunt.
18
LOGAN
DGSE Black Site
Brussels, Belgium
