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“You have three unread messages from Anomaly451, sire. Shall I read them?”

My palms began to sweat, and my knee banged the underside of the desk.

It was time to have a hard conversation. That was the absolute last thing I felt like doing, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. Adam felt like unresolved business. Like the killer in some low-budget slasher movie who kept resurrecting himself to torment the heroine. Which was a grossly unfair thought when the man’s only crime was liking me.

“Yes, please read them,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

“First message. Received, 6:53 p.m. Yesterday. ‘I’m qualified for HOGCon, exclamation point.’”

The tone of the message lost something when read by my very unimpressed AI. I couldn’t help but think that if Henry approved of Adam, he would have spoken with enthusiasm rather than voicing the punctuation.

“Next message. Received, 6:53 p.m. Yesterday. ‘Can’t wait to see you in Vegas, baby, period.’”

Ugh. My stomach dropped. “And the third?”

“Next message. Received, 6:54 p.m. Yesterday. I have a special night planned for us, ellipsis.” Henry paused, then recited, “Eggplant emoji. Eggplant emoji. Eggplant emoji.”

Damn.

16

HUX

Less than a week into my tenuous new relationship with Kev, the two of us were on a commercial flight to Vegas for HOGCon, and I felt grossly unprepared.

The op itself had been meticulously planned by every member of our team. We had identified the players, we had compiled files on their habits and affiliations, and I was confident that our talented group could carry it off.

What I hadn’t yet figured out, though, was how the fuck I was supposed to let Kev—the untrained, enthusiastic, helpful, gorgeous man I adored—walk into the heart of a double-Horn op involving two Cartel de la Luna operatives without losing my goddamn mind. My stomach felt like it was being chewed through with acid, and poor Kev’s fingers were practically broken from being squeezed too hard every time it was in reach of my hand on the plane.

“You, ah, have a very strong grip,” he said after I returned from the lavatory and clutched his hand again.

“Sorry.” I tried to relax my hand without letting go.

“What’s going on? Are you scared of flying? I didn’t notice this before any of the other ops.”

I let out a laugh. “No.”

“Then what’s this about? Not that I’m complaining about holding your hand in public. It’s really…” His smile turned a little dopey. “Nice.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Understatement,” I murmured into his warm, sweet-smelling skin.

I took a breath and tried to hold my temper. Champ’s cutting words to me a few hours earlier still rang in my ears. Stop treating Kev like a child who needs Daddy’s protection. He’s a grown man, and no one is forcing him into this. He’ll have protection. Your protection. Are you telling me you can’t protect him?

Riggs’s warning had been no less severe. Carter says he has a good feeling about you and Kev. I don’t know what the fuck that means, but you better not upset him. Be a true teammate, Hux, and don’t let your private feelings—whatever they are—get in the way.

I’d wanted to punch the two of them for backing me into a verbal corner, but that was nothing. I also wanted to beat the shit out of him for putting Kev on this op in the first place.

“You’re worried I can’t do the job,” Kev said, as if suddenly realizing what I was so upset about.

“Absolutely not,” I said a little too loudly. The older woman across the aisle snapped her head over. I ignored her but lowered my voice. “Babe, you are the most competent tech specialist I know and for damned sure the most capable Horn player. I’m not worried about you not being capable. I’m not worried that you’ll let us down. Ever.” I’m worried about someone hurting you.

His smile was accompanied by pink cheeks. “You’re worried about my safety.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed his hand again. “Mmm.”

Kev leaned his head onto my shoulder. The sweet, familiar scent of his shampoo helped settle my nerves. I’d spent the past few nights inhaling it as he’d slept in my arms. It was early days between us, I knew that. But it felt right. It felt necessary. It felt real.

I still needed to tell him I was SmittyKitty. It wasn’t fair to have that deception between us when I wanted a serious relationship with him. But I also didn’t want to throw our fragile new understanding into chaos at the same time we were expected to focus on this op.

Also, I was a coward.

Kev had talked the other night about the past being in the past and how it was what we did moving forward that mattered. I wanted that to be true. But I was more terrified of losing him than I’d been about any mission I’d ever been on—even the ones where bullets had flown—and I wanted to try to control the outcome as best I could, which was the fine-print bullshit no one ever explained about really falling for someone. The more you cared, the more you had to lose.

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