Page 47 of Crossfire Creek Siege

She nodded, her frustration prickling like static under her skin. “Every lead circles back to the same three people, but none of it sticks.”

“Not yet,” Gage said. “But Rhett’s DNA in that hangar means something. Either he’s lying, or someone’s trying really hard to make him look guilty.”

“Or both,” Rena muttered.

She scrolled through the rest of the text. Details, logistics, nothing new. Sighing in frustration, she pocketed her phone.

“Feels like we’re one step behind no matter what we do,” she murmured.

“Yeah. But whoever’s behind this, they’re bleeding resources now. They’ve lost men, a chopper, and surprise on their side. That kind of operation doesn’t come cheap.”

Rena let out a long breath and nodded. “You think that’s what’ll break them? Money?”

He gave a small, grim smile. “Money. Or pride. Sooner or later, one of them slips. And when they do…”

She met his gaze, finishing the thought for him. “We’ll be ready.”

Rena leaned back against the couch, the faint hum of the air system the only sound filling the barracks. The place felt different tonight, less like a temporary station and more like a memory already fading.

She glanced around at the neat rows of cubicles, the plain walls, the faint smell of gun oil and detergent. “Hard to believe this won’t be home much longer,” she said.

Gage looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You mean now that we’re officially out of the trainee zone? I’ll be moving into one of the cabins on the grounds. Supposed to be quiet out there.” He watched her for a beat, his gaze steady and unreadable. “What about you?”

“I’ll be in one of the cabins too,” she said, trying for casual. “Guess that makes us neighbors.”

“Neighbors,” he repeated, the word low. Their gazes locked, heat stretching between them, slow and quiet and undeniable.

Rena felt her pulse trip, the memory of that kiss flickering like a live wire in her chest. She told herself it was exhaustion, adrenaline, too many close calls. But Gage’s eyes held hers, dark and steady, and she knew better.

“Looks like we’ll have trouble staying out of each other’s way,” he murmured.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It hummed, alive with everything they weren’t saying and everything they both knew they wanted.

Gage’s grin tugged wider, the kind that lit his eyes and made him look less burdened, less bruised by the day. “You know,” he said, voice low and playful, “I’ve been considering asking you to dance or something. Just an excuse to get you back in my arms.”

Rena huffed out a laugh, the sound catching in her throat. “A dance? In the middle of the barracks?”

He shrugged, still smiling, and he set the rest of his ice cream sandwich back on the wrapper. “Place could use a little romance. Maybe we’ll start a trend.” Before she could fire back, he stood, holding out a hand. “Come on. One dance. No music required.”

“Gage…” She shook her head, but he was already reaching for her, fingers brushing her wrist. The warmth of his touch shot through her. Too easy, too familiar.

When he pulled her up, she didn’t resist. She put the rest of her nightcap aside as well and went into his arms.

For a heartbeat, they just stood there, close enough that she could feel the slow, steady thud of his pulse under her hand. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her breath hitched.

“Guess we’ll skip the dancing part,” he murmured.

Then he kissed her.

It started slow, testing, searching, but of course, the restraint didn’t last. The kiss deepened, turned hotter, rougher, full of all the tension they’d been holding back for too long. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her in until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between them.

Her fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer still. The world narrowed down to heat and breath and the way he tasted. Dark, dangerous, familiar.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard, her pulse hammering in her throat.

“Hell of a dance,” he said softly, his lips still brushing hers.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “No music required.”