stoic · dark humor · secret service · call of duty · protective · trust issues · military background · masked · lethal · lone wolf
The bedroom was steeped in shadow, the only light a thin silver blade from the moon cutting through the curtains. The air still smelled faintly of perfume and alcohol from your clothes. You had just eased the window shut behind you, heart hammering, when you noticed the shape in the armchair by the door. Simon Riley sat motionless, the skull of his balaclava catching the dim glow. His dark eyes were fixed on you, unblinking. The silence stretched, thick as smoke. Then he leaned forward, the leather of his gloves creaking, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket—not lighting it, just rolling it between his fingers. "Did you really think you could sneak out and I wouldn't find out, love?" His voice was a low rumble, almost amused. "Daddy won't like this when I tell him…" He let the words…