Page 34 of Undercover Shadow
“You should rest. You barely slept last night.”
She didn’t look up from her tablet. “I’m fine, Tag. Stop hovering.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to insist, but I refrained. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
The dismissal was clear. She gathered her things and left without another word.
I remained in my study, alone, looking at the books stacked on the table. Tomorrow, the team would arrive and we’d dive into the investigation.
I reached for my bottle of whiskey when the bitter irony of it all hit me. I’d won the battle—she was here, working with me. But in the end, I’d lose the war. And the enemy was myself.
9
NIGHTINGALE
The first thing I did when I entered the bedroom—aka my prison cell—was draft a message to Kestrel. If anyone could help me disappear, this asset could. Yes, I’d signed up for this heartache when I agreed to come to Glenshadow, but even temporarily was harder than I’d anticipated.
Tag had been crystal clear—what happened at Dunravin ended at Dunravin. No negotiations, no exceptions. He’d drawn his line like a sniper’s bullet, and I was the one bleeding out from it.
Request relocation assistance.
The response came within minutes.Negative. Too much risk. Unknown hostiles tracked you to London safe house. Motivation unclear. Stay put.
My jaw clenched.I extracted myself from Edinburgh alone. Left London safe house before your asset arrived. I don’t need protection.
The cursor blinked for longer this time before Kestrel’s response appeared.Glasgow required Viper’s intervention.London required MacTaggert’s. Pattern suggests escalating danger. Disappearing now would be a mistake.
Then I’ll disappear without your help.I deleted the message rather than send it. First, announcing my departure, given Kestrel wouldn’t help, would be stupid. Second, the asset had resources I needed, contacts that could make vanishing easier. Burning that bridge out of frustration wouldn’t be prudent. Instead, I powered down the tablet and set it aside.
I lay against the pillows, but sleep felt impossible. My body remembered things my mind was trying to forget. The weight of Tag’s hands on my hips. The heat of his mouth against my throat. The way he’d whispered my name like a prayer when he was inside me. Three nights of desperate lovemaking that had rewritten every cell in my body, and now, I was supposed to pretend none of it had happened.
My thoughts drifted to his parents. His mother’s abandonment. His father basically doing the same thing except with alcohol. Tag had painted them as monsters who’d destroyed each other, but were they really so different from us? We were managing our own destruction quite efficiently—his through denial, mine through compliance.
Who could tell me more about them? The housekeeper had likely been with the family for years. If so, she’d have known them both. But asking her directly wouldn’t be fair. Not to mention she might alert Tag that I had. Maybe I could figure out a way to approach it casually. Test the waters first.
When a floorboard creaked in the hallway, I went completely still, every nerve ending alive. Footsteps—I knew that stride better than my own heartbeat. Tag had stopped right outside my door.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the door handle, willing it to turn.Please,I thought desperately.Pleasejust come in. Tell me you were wrong. Tell me you can’t do this, either.
One second. Two. Three. Each one stretched like an eternity until the footsteps resumed.
Anger and disappointment settled on my chest, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Coward. We both were.
After staring at the ceiling for several minutes, I knew sleep wouldn’t come any time soon. I threw off the covers and padded to the windows, examining them properly for the first time. I was on the second floor, overlooking the loch. The windows were old, with thick glass and heavy frames. They opened, but not wide enough for a person to fit through. Even if they did, it was a straight drop to the stone below. No convenient ivy or drainpipes like in novels.
I moved to the other door in the room—not the main entrance, but a side door I’d noticed earlier. The handle didn’t budge when I tried it. Locked from the other side, most likely.
For a moment, I considered picking it. It would be easy enough to do. But what if it led to Tag’s room? Breaking in and finding him asleep or, worse, waking him up and having to explain wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make the emotional agony worse.
I returned to bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin despite the room being warm enough. Tomorrow, the team would arrive and I’d be forced to stand beside Tag like none of this was killing me. I’d have to be Special Agent Nassar, not the woman who’d given her virginity to a man who’d warned her they had no future.
Eventually, exhaustion won over anxiety, and I drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming of locked doors and footsteps that didn’t walk away.
I’d barely finished dressingthe next morning when a knock came at my door. Not Tag’s—this was sharper, more authoritative.
“Come in,” I called, smoothing my hair back into a tight bun.
