"For the record," she says, "that was the worst timing in human history."
"Agreed."
"And we're not done. Consider this a pause because I am desperate to cum and you made me feel that way, so you’re going to fucking finish the job or so help me GOD."
"I know." I struggle to hide the grin trying to break out.
"Good." She huffs and then turns and takes the stairs two at a time.
I stand in the empty gym with a hard-on that could cut glass and the taste of her blood on my lip and the smell of her on my hands.
Kreiss moved. The war just accelerated. Leone needs me clear and focused and operational and I've got about ninety seconds to get my head out from between Savannah’s thighs and back into the fight.
I take the stairs after her. By the time I hit the corridor my face is blank, and my breathing is normal and nobody looking at me would know that three minutes ago I had a woman pressed against me making sounds that are going to live in my head for the rest of my fucking life.
Nobody except Claudio, who is standing outside the war room door, and who looks at me once, looks at Savannah walking ahead of me, looks back at me, and says absolutely nothing.
Which is, of course, the loudest thing he’s saying.
Chapter Six: Savannah
Thewarroombriefinglasts forty minutes and the short version is this: Kreiss is moving money. Fast, in large amounts, through accounts Alexandra has been tracking since I gave her the Meridian Star connection. He's pulling his network tighter, repositioning operatives, consolidating resources. Leone thinks he's either preparing to run or preparing to strike, and either way the window to act is closing.
The longer version involves financial diagrams that Alexandra projects onto the wall and names I don't recognize and territory maps with pins that get moved while I watch. Emilio sits beside me and his knee bounces under the table the entire time and he doesn't look at me. Not once. Which tells me he's thinking about me constantly because my little asshole only avoids eye contact when he's trying not to think about the thing he's avoiding looking at.
I know this because I'm doing the same thing. I can still feel his hand between my thighs. The pressure of his palm through denim. The sound he made when I bit his lip. The taste of his blood, copper and warm, still sitting on my tongue an hour later because I haven't had water and I haven't brushed my teeth and I'm goinginsane.
Leone assigns tasks. Alexandra continues tracking the financial transfers. Claudio begins building a profile on the Meridian Star's movements. Emilio is tasked with preparing a surveillance team for the marina, which will deploy within the week. Carmelo is doing some recon work, which I’ve come to realize is actually interrogation of assets. And me, I'm told to stay in the compound and remain available for follow-up questions about the intel I provided.
Stay in the compound and remain available.
The polite version of sit in your room and wait.
I don't argue because the briefing isn't the time and Leone isn't the audience. I nod and I leave and I walk back to my room, sit on the bed and roll the bottle cap between my fingers before staring at the wall.
I am so fucking tired of staring at walls.
The attack comes at two in the morning.
I'm awake because I haven't been sleeping as well as I’d like. In my own space, I can sleep like a bear, but here, I listen to everything. I'm sitting on my bed in a t-shirt and underwear with the lamp on and a book I found in the common room open on my lap, something in Italian that I can't read but the pictures of old churches are nice enough to look at, when the sound hits.
A series of hard, fast pops from the east side of the building, followed by shouting, followed by boots on concrete moving at a speed that means this isn't a drill.
I'm on my feet before the second round of pops. Shoes on, jeans on, ready to help however I can. I grab the bottle cap off the nightstand and shove it in my pocket and I'm at the door before the alarm starts.
The alarm is loud as it screeches, and it fills the corridor with a wailing that bounces off the concrete walls and makes it impossible to think. Red lights strobe from panels I didn't notice were there. The corridor fills with soldiers in various states of readiness, some fully kitted, some pulling vests on over bare chests, all of them armed and all of them moving toward the east wing.
I open my door and step out.
Emilio is already there. He's coming from his room three doors down, dressed in black tactical gear I've never seen him wear, a vest over a long-sleeve shirt, a gun on his hip and another in his hand, and his face is different. The grin is gone. The charm is gone. The bouncing energy is gone. What's left is something coldand focused and completely still, and the transformation is so incredible that for a second I don't recognize him.
This is what he looks like when the sunshine turns off.
"Get back in your room," he barks.
"What's happening?"
"Castillos. East wing breach. Four, maybe six shooters. They're hitting Alexandra's office."
