We sat in silence, the keyboard clacking again as he responded to a few more messages, jaw flexing as he read another update. He was so handsome it hurt sometimes, less dangerous than Rafe, maybe, but just as deadly in his own quiet way. He and Kieran were not only Rafe’s best men, but his closest friends. After what happened with Victor, Rafe struggled to trust people close to him. But these two would undeniably die for either of us. And that felt incredible.
Behind us, the sound of pans clattering and low male voices came from the kitchen. Rafe and Kieran were cooking and jokingly arguing about something stupid. Laura was pacing the hallway with her phone to her ear, deep in a late meeting with a Sinclair Solutions client. Even in hiding, she was still closing deals.
The room smelled like garlic, rosemary, and roasted meat. A scent that felt safe and warm for now.
Hours later, the five of us lounged together in the living room, spread across couches and cushions and mismatched throws. The TV played some old spy thriller in the background, but no one was really watching.
“I wish we could go out,” Laura said suddenly from a cozy chair, stretching her arms above her head with a dramatic sigh. “Like to an actual dinner. Or a bar. Fuck, even a bowling alley.”
“You want to go bowling?” Kieran asked, raising a dark brow. His long hair was pulled back in a messy bun.
“I want to not be trapped in a fucking hotel room,” she replied with a laugh.
He leaned back on the loveseat, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke toward the open balcony door. “We can’t risk it. Not now. Not with that many targets in one room in two days.”
“She’s right, though,” I murmured, curled up beside Nico. “It sucks. I miss being around people who don’t deserve to die.”
Nico snorted. “You’ll see plenty of those after this.”
Rafe walked past behind us, brushing his hand over my shoulder as he moved toward the kitchen for something else. That simple touch and quiet connection settled my nerves again.
I looked around the room, this mismatched group. Each one of them had become part of me.
I didn’t want to think about what would happen if we failed.
So I didn’t.
I just leaned against Nico again, my head on his shoulder, and let the warmth of their voices surround me. For one night, we weren’t at war. We were just together.
Rafe plopped onto the couch on my other side with a pint of ice cream.
“How are you eating that?” I asked, raising a brow.
He rolled his eyes with a smirk. “How are younot?Here, have some.” He spooned out the cookie dough and fudge mix.
My nose scrunched, but he forced the ice cream into my mouth anyway. “Damn it, Rafe!” I squealed, burying my body between the couch and Nico’s back. They all laughed, and then I ended up fighting Rafe over the rest of the ice cream.
Chapter 25
Laura handed me a file. “The floor plans. Nico cleared the exit tunnels. We’ll have four squads. Front entrance, side, underground, and overwatch. We will be ready to back you up.”
“And us?” Rafe asked.
“We walk in through the front door,” I said, locking eyes with him.
Our guns were laid out on the dresser. My boots were beside his, polished and waiting. There was something unsettling about how intimate the whole thing felt. Like getting ready for a date instead of a bloodbath.
I didn’t hear Rafe come up behind me, but I felt him. His hands slid around my waist and held me there, anchoring me to him, to now. His mouth brushed against my ear, voice soft but dark.
“You ready for tonight, little doe?”
I rested my hands over his. “Yes.”
He exhaled like he’d been waiting to hear that. Maybe he had.
The day passed in pieces. Fast and slow at once. Armor and gear. Phone calls and quiet glances. Kieran checked his rifle as if it were a ritual. Nico sat on the floor in front of the TV, coding something that would help us breach the building’s firewall and reroute the surveillance.
Laura smoked half a pack, pacing with her earpiece, coordinating every moving piece like a general dressed for war.