by Nico Rosso
With her lips on his throat, she felt his pulse ease. Hers matched it. They disentangled themselves and she sighed as he exited her. He rested his hand over her pussy, a warm comfort for the ache. They lay next to each other, facing the red ceiling. She took her glasses off and stroked across his hair.
At some point, she’d need to thank Silvia for having condoms in the guest bedroom. Her friend had experienced the same loss as April. A life and love cut off in an instant. It had taken time, but Silvia had reemerged, learned who she was again and lived. Could April do that? Had she just stepped into a new self? Or was this not herself, only a brief flash in the night?
Chapter Twelve
James woke throughout the night and couldn’t believe each time that April was in the bed next to him. The experience they’d shared felt unreal because it was so real. She knew him, accepted him and invited him closer. His hookups over the last few years had felt like a rush to a finish. With April, he had to focus on her and her pace. He learned not only what she responded to physically, but also how her mind was involved in the pleasure. Taking their time allowed him to savor each touch. Maybe because somewhere in his thoughts he knew that it might be the last time they allowed themselves this kind of freedom.
House alarms weren’t impenetrable. Each creak of the structure or gust of wind outside surfaced him from a thin sleep. The gun was on the nightstand. His knife was nearby on the floor. None of the noises escalated so he needed to investigate. He was glad to leave the flashlight off. It was better to preserve the memory of her glowing body and ecstatic face in the red light.
After they’d regained the use of their limbs post-sex, they’d cleaned up and collected their clothes from the dryer. His jeans and shirt were ready next to the bed, and he dressed in the dark before the dawn. April stirred. She’d put on her sleep shirt and yoga pants, but the sound of her moving through the sheets tore at his soldier’s resolve. He’d planned to gear up and start the day with planning and mapping and tactics.
Instead, he sat on the bed amid a delicate calm that made his body feel lighter, the aroma of her soap and herself surrounding him. She turned away and pawed at the bedside table until she found her glasses and put them on. The dim light from the shuttered window revealed her bleary, but concerned, face. “Everything alright?”
“Just getting started.” He put his hand on hers, very conscious of the touch. He wanted the latent slow heat of her in the bed, but maybe their moment of intimacy had passed.
“What time is it?” She didn’t pull her hand away, but the contact felt awkward and unknown.
“Early.” He checked his phone. “Not yet zero six. Sunrise in an hour and a half.”
“The school won’t be open until around eight.” Her smoky voice made him want to wrap her and the blankets around him.
“You can keep sleeping.” He was up for the day and needed to steer his mind to the op.
She moved her hand out from under his and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m up.” Not a convincing display, especially after she yawned and stretched out her arms. He made a fist and tried to hold the gravity of the touch, but it might’ve already been gone.
April got off the bed with a long, mournful sigh. A pang of sadness knifed down him. He wanted it all to stay the same, for time to stop, containing just the two of them in this room. She dressed as he shrugged on his shoulder holster and clipped his knife to the back of his belt. His boots were clean enough for indoor use, and he sat in a side chair to lace them up. When April finished dressing, she leaned against the edge of the bed.
“What now?” Her voice was flat and there wasn’t enough light to piece together her expression.
Was she asking about them? He didn’t have the answer to any of those questions, just the desire to stay close to her and the source of the new energy that pumped through him. “We track down our lead at the school.”
She didn’t move, and he felt like he was staring at a picture he’d be seeing the rest of his life. April in shadows, next to the bed they’d shared, neither of them knowing if they were over or if they’d just begun.
The shower turned on upstairs. Silvia began her day. The tableau snapped when April walked about the bed, collecting her clothes. He covered his weapons with his leather jacket and helped April pack their bag.
They weren’t cold with each other, but the unspoken connection they’d had wavered, uncertain. April made the bed, and he lost a part of himself. At least he’d helped her find pleasure. It was unfair to imagine he could be anything more than a temporary relief from the pain of her past. Once they’d collected all their things and erased their presence from the room, he turned on the light.
She squinted and didn’t look him in the eye. “I’m going to put in my contacts.”
“Right.” He watched her leave and stood in the middle of the room, listening to the sounds of the waking house. The urge to action revved high. He understood the mission, even if all the steps were still hidden. Picking a lock, smashing through a window, running a car through a barricade, he knew exactly what to do. He was lost with April. If the end of the night brought her the realization that he wasn’t the kind of man for her, then he had to accept it. The price of a life he’d tried to leave behind. It haunted him.
The shower turned off upstairs. April returned. “It’s all yours.”
He used the bathroom for his morning routine. His kit was in place and mission ready. He splashed cold water on his face to center himself. Get the job done. Then he could move on to the next op, and April would be free to pursue her life. He exited to find her standing in the hall.
“Coffee?” she asked, neutral.
“Hell, yeah.”
He followed her into the kitchen. She and Silvia were obviously close enough to comfortably share a cooking space. April knew where all the ingredients and implements for coffee making were. The roasted aroma soon filled the room.
Silvia descended the stairs wearing the components of a business casual outfit, as if conjured by the brew. Her long hair was still damp, but pulled into a ponytail. “You got it going?”
April checked her work. “Couple of minutes.”
James drifted aimlessly in the kitchen. “What can I do?”
Silvia thought, then answered, “Toast.”
The task helped relieve the tension of uncertainty that made each word he wanted to tell her too brittle. “Point me in the direction.”
Silvia indicated the toaster and showed him the bread and butter. He absorbed himself in the production line, but not so much that he missed Silvia questioning April with a look. April shook her head to get away from the subject, and Silvia backed off. What would she say if the two friends were alone? A cold sweat spread on the back of his neck. He hated being lost.
“You know how to get to the school?” Silvia took them all into safer territory.
James tapped his temple. “Got it.”
April collected mugs. “He sees something once and it’s set.” She was impressed, but he still couldn’t bask in her praise.
Silvia sliced avocados into vivid green slabs. “I wish I could do that.” Diablo the cat stalked into the kitchen, glared at the three humans busy with their tasks, turned and disappeared back to whatever corner he’d come from.
James shrugged. “A lot of training.”
“You know...” Silvia paused with the knife in her hand. “I can take a personal day and go with you.”
April looked from her to James for the answer.
He dipped his head politely. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t. The less you’re involved, the better. Go about your day. Act like nothing’s changed.” But everything had changed. It was going to be a struggle to pretend otherwise. “Plausible deniability and all that.”
“I get it.” Silvia brought the avocados over to James’s stack of toast. �
�If you need something, I’m on the other end of the phone.” She took over at his station and lined the toast with the avocado slices before sprinkling salt and pepper on them.
April handed Silvia a mug and hesitated in front of James. “Cream, no sugar, right?”
“That’s right.” Damn, it wasn’t going to be easy to walk away from her when this was all over.
She smiled, sly with victory, and handed him a mug. “You didn’t think I noticed at the diner in New Mexico.”
“I think you notice everything.” That perception made her unique. A long second drew out between them. She looked into his eyes, giving him the tug of their link. But how far it went, he still didn’t know.
“Are you coming back here?” Silvia carried her mug and a large plate of the toast into the dining area. James and April followed with their coffee.
April answered first. “I don’t think we can plan that far ahead.”
“Right,” he agreed. “We haven’t been able to plan more than one move at a time.”
They ate and finished their breakfast as the rising sun sliced pale yellow light around the dining room shutters. After a brief cleanup of dishes, James brought his and April’s gear to the front door. She stood with Silvia and told her, “We’ll let you know when we know.”
“Okay.” Silvia looked at April with deep sympathy and fierce friendship. “You be safe, babe.”
“I will.” April put her hand on Silvia’s arm and held it.
“She will,” James vowed.
Silvia disarmed the alarm, and April let go of her friend to open the front door. The frigid morning rushed in. The safety of Silvia’s home was over. The real danger resumed.
He and April wasted no time hurrying to the car and shutting themselves in. The outsides of the windows were frosted. The inside immediately steamed with their presence. He turned the engine over, knowing it would take too damn long for the heater to kick in.
They’d driven a block when April exclaimed, “Oh, shit.”
Adrenaline rushed up through him, and he scanned all the angles for trouble. “What is it?” Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“What if they’re on winter break?” She searched out the windows with concerned eyes. “When is that?”
“Hell if I know.” He relaxed away from full battle mode. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
“If they’re closed,” she planned, “we’ll have to use those lock picks of yours.”
“That would be long after sunset.” He glanced at her. She almost looked eager for it, bless the determined woman. “And I would be alone.”
“But you’ll need me at the servers.” The woman was persistent.
“I’ll send you a picture.” His tactical mind chafed at the possibility. “Disabling alarms, breaking and entering, getting chased by the authorities would put you too far in harm’s way. I won’t have that.”
“I’m in harm’s way,” she reminded him.
“Not because of me,” he countered.
She reached over and put her hand on his leg. “That’s right.” The touch spun him, confused. He’d convinced himself the intimacy was done, and yet it immediately sprang back to life. He connected to her and last night and what they shared.
“Do you want me to move my hand?” She looked at him with concern.
“I don’t.” But it was selfish.
“This morning,” she ventured, “I couldn’t tell.”
“We’re back on the clock.” He chose his sentences and knew they were too clumsy. “And I thought you...sent a distant message.”
“You’d disappeared.” Her hand pulled away slightly but remained on his thigh.
“I’ll have to.” The pain of the lost possibility split him. “I’ll disappear so you can live a normal life.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” She drew out the question so each word landed with growing impact.
He pulled the car to the curb and turned toward her. Hope hammered through him. He stared at her face, seeing that she spoke the truth, and gave her the same in return. “Then you have me,” he promised.
She tipped her chin up and met his gaze, brave. “That’s what I want.”
“Truly?” He’d bounced between too many emotions to keep up. “Because you know what I am.”
“I do.” She moved her hand to his cheek. “And that’s why.” His heart jumped as she looked at him, honest and aware. Without judgment. “Don’t make me tell you to kiss me.”
He didn’t wait, and brought them together in a kiss. The sting of tearing himself from her washed away. The night before rushed back. The possibility, the chance at tomorrow, was all he needed. Knots of doubt that had bound around his ribs released. He tasted sweet coffee on her lips and breathed her in until he was filled with her fire. She stroked down his face and placed her hand on his chest. The connection was like an electric shock that started his pulse after long lying dormant. They broke the kiss and sat, inches apart for a few breaths.
His motor turned. The op waited. After it was complete, the real possibilities opened. “Let’s tear that school down.”
She smiled, ready. “Let’s.”
They separated and he drove them back into the mission. His past actions weren’t gone, or forgiven. But with her, he was allowed to move forward. They drove toward the unknown, with hostiles hunting them. James dedicated himself to protecting her, and the sliver of hope she’d given him.
Chapter Thirteen
The tension of the morning had soured April’s night. James’s distance in the dark of the bedroom had made her wonder if their sex and connection had been some sort of needy dream. But she’d known it was real. The effect remained in the sweet ache of her body. Their job in Phoenix remained. How could she perform with cold blood after running so hot with him?
It would’ve been impossible to proceed without knowing what had happened and where she stood. At times it was maddening how careful he was of her. But that was also what made him so unique. Still, she’d had to reach out first. And she was glad she had. It didn’t even matter she didn’t know exactly where the two of them were headed. Just the possibility of more time together made her feel the fresh air in her lungs.
The atmosphere cleared between them to bright blue, leaving a clear path to their task at hand. He found the school, circled it twice as they watched the buses arrive and students pour into the entrances. The closest street parking was two blocks away, and they walked quickly through the frigid morning toward the large main brick building.
She jammed her hands in her coat pockets. “Should’ve brought coffee to go.”
He blew into his fist. “I could go for a three-hour shower.”
A realization hit her and she slowed, taking him with her. “Are you wearing your gun?”
He nodded and sighed, then glanced at the school. “I don’t like it. I know it’s not right. But we’re in the crosshairs.”
“You mean I am.” She looked about, but didn’t know the area well enough to recognize signs of danger.
“We are,” he corrected her. “I’m with you in this.”
He was the only thing that made this insanity seem possible. “Keep your jacket zipped.”
“Roger that.” He patted the front of the leather.
They picked up their pace again toward the school. A block away, the first bell of the day rang. The area cleared of students as if they’d never been there, and quiet descended. Anxiety tugged at the muscles between her shoulders, but she didn’t know if it was because of the current mission or because she was stepping back into a high school.
“I was really happy to graduate.” She reminded herself of her accomplishments since those days, including creating a website that helped countless women. That community steeled her nerves toward the task at hand.<
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“Didn’t take to school, myself.” James’s precise attention took in the environment. “I learn better on my feet.” He arrived at the front doors and opened one side for her.
The smell of unclean lockers and thousands of students and institutional linoleum hit her with a wave of unwelcome teenage angst-filled nostalgia. “Fuck, it’s been a long time...”
“Agreed.” A sour expression crossed his face. “Here we are.” He pointed the way to a heavy wooden door with an aging brass sign above that read Administration. “Plan in mind?”
She’d been toying with a concept and rolled it out. “We’re thinking of enrolling our daughter.”
“Bloody hell.” He put on a strained smile. “You take point.”
She walked into the administration offices before him and proceeded to a broad wooden counter that divided the entrance from the several old steel desks where men and women worked on computers and spoke on phones.
“How can I help you?” A young African-American man who looked like he was fresh out of college approached the counter. He wore a crisp plaid shirt, tucked in, and oversized glasses.
James leaned close to her and muttered in her ear, “Braces.”
She whispered back, trying to figure out what he meant, “On his teeth?”
“What do you call them?” James sounded frustrated. The man had almost reached them. “Suspenders.”
It was true, the man wore trim leather suspenders. She was sure there was a girl or two at the school with a crush on this hip administrator. She gave James an elbow on his arm. “Try it sometime. It would look good on you.” The picture of him in a white collared shirt, chest framed by the suspenders, gave her a delicious shiver.
James chuckled, she joined him and the mood was bright when the man arrived at the desk. “I’m Ollie Bower.” He extended his hand. “Assistant dean of students.”
She shook his hand, “Yvonne Pandya.”