Page 10 of Code Name: Reaper
“You should have left me.” My voice was raw with anger mixed with terror.
“Like hell.” His words were rough, dangerous. “You think I’d let them put a bullet in your head?”
“I specifically told you to save Mercury first, and you ignored me!”
“You want to hate me for saving your life? Fine. Hate me.”
“I do hate you.” The words came out breathless and unconvincing.
Reaper’s body pressed against mine. His hands fisted in my hair, and his mouth crashed into mine. I returned his kiss with everything I had—all the rage and terror burning through my veins.
“I hate you,” I repeated. “I fucking hate you.”
“Yeah, babe, I hate you too,” he said before he thrust his tongue inside my mouth, making my traitorous body lean harder into his.
4
REAPER
What the hell had just happened?
I stayed close to the wall as we crept farther into the tunnels, listening to the Russian voices fade as the search team moved past our hiding spot. My heart hammered against my ribs, but not from the adrenaline of nearly getting killed. No, this was entirely different. Amaryllis had kissed me too.
With death breathing down our necks, her hands had fisted in my jacket, her body had pressed against mine, and for those few seconds, the world had narrowed to her mouth and the way she’d responded to my touch.
She’d said she hated me, then kissed me like her life depended on it.
The contradiction made my head spin. I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the way she’d melted into me before the ice maven I knew returned. What did she hate? Me or the fact that she wanted it as much as I had?
Behind me, I heard her short, controlled bursts of breath that told me she was fighting for composure. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one rattled.
Focus. Mission first, sort out the rest later.
I waited another thirty seconds, then motioned for her to follow around the next bend. As we squeezed through another narrow passage, my body was hyperaware of every time she brushed against me.
We emerged from the tunnel system onto the dark Berlin streets. Streetlights cast long shadows across empty sidewalks, and the distant hum of late-night traffic echoed off concrete buildings. The city had that hollow quality of deep night, when most people were asleep, save for the insomniacs and shift workers still moving through Kreuzberg’s urban maze.
Amaryllis avoided eye contact as she stepped out beside me. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if she could create a physical barrier even though we stood only inches apart.
The movement frustrated me more than it should have. One minute, she was in my arms; the next, she’d transformed into ice.
I scanned the street for threats while fighting the urge to stare at her mouth. It was empty except for a delivery truck that rumbled down a parallel street. We needed to move, get transportation, and put space between us and the safe house in advance of the Russians expanding their search grid.
“We need a vehicle.”
She moved toward a compact parked at the curb. “There.”
“We’re not stealing another one.”
Amaryllis raised a brow. “Another? Don’t tell me the holier-than-thou Reaper took something that didn’t belong to him.” The challenge in her voice brought a strange sense of relief. This, I could handle. Arguing was familiar territory.
“We’ll take the train,” I suggested.
“Slower.”
“Safer.”
“Speed matters more than safety right now.”
