Page 105 of Rogue Mission
Specifically any SEAL from our unit.
“You sure?”
Behind me, the sound of water running in the bathroom sink tells me Rosalie’s washing up.
Instead of barging in on her because I’m freaking out, I keep my feet planted.
“Have you talked to him?” There’s gravel and pain in the sound of my voice.
“Some.”
Fucking Walton. Always holding his cards close to his chest.
“Are you gonna tell me anything?”
“He’s living about a mile from here.”
My head jolts back. For a moment I try to process that intel.
“Here?” I point to the floor. “Spence is living in BFE… in the woods?”
“Yep.”
The door to the bathroom opens, and Rosalie appears at my elbow, her face fresh, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Walton’s putting us up,” I rasp, pulling her to me, looping my arm around her neck.
The bear spray bumps my hip, and Walton notices.
“You guys been running ops in the woods?”
Rosalie looks between us, puzzled, and I say, “No, it’s a story. For after sleep.”
I’ll let her tell him how she sprayed Parson. He’ll appreciate that.
But we are not talking.
We’re… sleeping?
Definitely sleeping. But the idea of getting horizontal with Rosalie in bed does wicked things to my exhausted brain.
I hustle her up the steps, telling my dick to take a vacation.
The guest room is small—just a bed, a nightstand, and a window overlooking the pines. It’s approaching eight a.m. now, gloomy light is unfolding across the land.
Rain is still falling, pattering against the glass, the world outside gray and formless. Everything feels a million miles away.
I know it’s a lie. Somewhere within hours, a killer is hunting.
The guest room door clicks shut behind us, a small reprieve.
Walton’s footsteps fade below us, leaving Rosalie and me in a quiet so thick it presses against my eardrums.
I’m edgy. Vibrating.
There’s a humming energy coming from her too as she stands near the window. Arms wrapped around herself, she’s watching rain streak down the glass.
Like the world is crying.
