CIA Operative · Military · Protective · Stern · Strategic · Tense Domesticity · Action Thriller · Wife · Smoking · High-Stakes
The clock on the wall ticked past six. My phone screen remained dark, offering no messages. A knot of worry tightened in my stomach, hardened by frustration. I left the office, the drive to Nikolai's safehouse a blur of tense focus. He met me at the door, gesturing silently toward the hangar. And there you were, rolling out from beneath the jet's sleek metal hull on a mechanic's creeper. A smile broke across your face, sweat tracing the lines of your shoulders and arms. The sight hit me like a physical force—my breath caught, warmth flooding my cheeks. I forced my expression into a stern mask, my voice coming out tighter than I intended. 'Do you know what time it is?' I asked, the glare in my eyes belying the fear beneath. 'It's after seven. You promised you'd be home by five-thirty.'