TEN

Leora

So, he'd been watching me. Actually stalking me. And he'd admitted it. But why did it bother me more that he was a coward, hiding in the shadows, rather than the fact that he was a stalker? Why did it irk me that he couldn't just protect me openly, instead of taking these sneaky, invasive steps? And dammit, why was I still caught up on the striking lines of his jaw? The irresistible ridges of his muscles?

Shit. Stop.

Every time I saw him, it was like a rush of all those intense, unfiltered desires came flooding back. I'd built up this image of him in my head, and somehow, he was still outdoing it.

‘I'm trained to not get distracted by mere breasts, Leora.'

God! I wasn't sure why, but in that moment, compelled by a mix of defiance and a desire to test him, I had turned around and done something I hadn't had the courage to do in front of anyone for years. I just needed to see his reaction .

I exhaled a heavy sigh and shuffled outside to meet the team for the relocation. I didn't even know our destination.

Standing slightly apart from everyone, I noticed they were all geared up, gripping their duffle bags, dressed in combat-ready attire.

It struck me then—the kind of life I was getting deeper into. Despite the chaos, this unsettling shift was oddly comforting in its own twisted way. My apartment hadn't felt safe in ages.

My gaze drifted to a tall man with dark hair conversing with Zarek. His clean-shaven face revealed a noticeable scar on his jaw, adding a rugged aspect to his appearance. Nearby, Logan shared a joke, laughter echoing from him and another man who, although slightly shorter than Logan, still towered over most with a stature I guessed was over six feet. His skin was a rich brown, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard—perhaps he was Hispanic, or Indian?

God . But what a sight they made. All were ridiculously handsome, emanating deathly strength. They all had a hardened face, chiseled muscles, and biceps the size of my fucking waist.

"Don't let the looks fool you. They can kill with their bare hands," A woman appeared beside me, her voice pulling me out of my reverie. "Well, maybe not Kabir. He's a softie."

Standing a few inches taller than me, she had a presence that commanded attention. At five foot nine, I was hardly short, but next to her, I felt compelled to look up. Her dark-brown hair brushed just above her shoulders, and even in her tactical gear, it was clear she possessed a physique as capable and deadly as any member of the team .

I offered a hesitant smile, feeling slightly out of my element, "I'm not sure I know them enough to make any judgements."

She cocked her head, her gaze piercing as she studied me for a moment before extending her hand. "First, let me introduce myself. I'm Amelia Desmond. But they call me Amelia ‘Falcon' Desmond. A call sign that stuck from my time in the FBI. I do surveillance and drone support for the squad."

Taking her hand, I felt the firmness of her grip, her strength subtly asserting itself. This woman wasn't just strong; she was formidable.

Or making a statement.

"Should you be telling me all this?" I asked.

She chuckled. "Well, I don't think you're going anywhere for a while. Boss won't let it happen."

"Would that be Zarek? The boss?"

She nodded, her gaze scrutinizing.

"In that case, maybe I should know a little about who I'll be spending my time with."

She smirked at my forwardness. Glancing towards Zarek and the imposing figure standing beside him, she continued. "That's Dylan ‘Titan' Desmond. My brother and ex-CIA. Logan, Zarek, and Dylan were in the same special unit. They met there and never really separated, it seems."

Her nod shifted towards Logan and the other man, who I guessed was Kabir, sparking my curiosity about his call sign.

"And that softie, there, is Kabir ‘Cipher' Gill. He worked with NASA's cybersecurity team and is our technology support. Hell of a hacker. But he goes in as a muscle every now and then."

"What are Zarek and Logan's call signs?" I asked, intrigued.

"Oh, Zarek is ‘Ghost'. Apparently he was very good at sneaking up on people on missions." Then she smirked at me, "Maybe not just on missions. And Logan is ‘Gunner' because…well, he's good with guns. Knows everything about them."

She leaned in conspiratorially, "Don't tell him I said this, but the guy is a bit of a gun nerd. I'm sure he'd prefer a gun over a woman."

I stifled a laugh as I watched Logan enthusiastically showing his handgun to an unimpressed Kabir.

"FBI, CIA, and NASA." I mumbled. "What are you all doing in Canada? It seems like you're mostly American." I asked.

"We move around. We've only been here for three months. And we're not all American. Kabir is from India and Zarek's family is Canadian."

I nodded, following her as we approached the rest of the squad.

"Boys, ready to go?" Amelia called out.

A flurry of nods followed, and I watched as Amelia fell into step with Kabir, whispering something that made him shove her playfully. Moments later, I found myself in a Cadillac Escalade, tucked between an assortment of tactical gear.

Logan took the driver's seat, his eyes scanning the surroundings vigilantly as we waited for Zarek. I recalled our sparring session. He didn't seem so bad after a few punches. He even taught me how to block combinations and mix Krav Maga with kickboxing.

"I'm sorry we had to uproot your life like this." He mumbled suddenly.

I eyed him through the rearview mirror. "It's fine, I guess. You didn't have to be rude, though."

He grimaced. "I was just taken aback. We don't bring civilians here. I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"Logan, are you secretly the good cop?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. But I guess I can't mess with my boss's girl. He'd kick my ass."

I crossed my arms, a frown etching my features. "I'm not his anything."

Logan's smirk was visible in the mirror. "Aren't you?" His voice held a teasing lilt that I wasn't in the mood for.

I sighed, desperate to shift the conversation away from Zarek. "Can I call my friends and family? Let them know I'm okay?"

Logan's eyes met mine, his expression suddenly serious. "I think it's best to keep off the grid for now. We can pass along a message, but direct contact could put you—and them—at risk."

"Why?" My voice edged with frustration. "Why can't I just tell them I'm safe? I think they'd like to hear it from me."

"It's complicated," Logan started, his tone somber. "The squad is being watched. Any communication could lead them straight to you. Think of this as a sort of witness protection."

I scoffed, the reality of my situation sinking in. "You know I have a job, right? People expecting me back?"

His reply was curt, almost dismissive. "Do you?"

The implication of his words stung, the casual dismissal igniting a spark of anger. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Logan's expression softened slightly. "Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but we need to play it safe for now. Trust me, it's for the best."

Before I could ask him to clarify what he meant, Zarek slid into the car and gave Logan a nod.

"You good?" he asked me.

You good? That's it? I'm literally in witness protection and he's asking me if I'm good.

"Peachy," I replied, the word dripping with sarcasm.

As we drove off, I tried to keep track of our route. But after almost forty minutes, my attention waned, and I surrendered to a nap.

The jarring sound of car doors opening yanked me back to consciousness.

"Hey Leo, wake up," Logan's voice called, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Hey, are we there yet?" I mumbled, still half in the realm of sleep.

"Yes, we've reached. Get up and get inside now," Zarek cut in, his voice sharp and commanding.

His urgency allowed no time for a leisurely wake-up, and I found myself marching into what looked like a warehouse, my steps clumsy as I might have even stumbled.

"Can you be a bit gentle, asshole?" I heard Logan chastise Zarek, followed by a loud pat.

The building was a vast warehouse set in an isolated area, devoid of any other structures as far as the eye could see.

Inside, the main area was outfitted with gym equipment, a large table at the center, a modest kitchen to the left, and six doors that I presumed led to individual rooms.

Not long after, the second car rolled in, carrying Amelia, Dylan, and Kabir .

"Uh, I can shack up in the command center," Kabir suggested, already heading towards one of the rooms.

Zarek, silent until now, approached me from behind and took my hand, leading me toward two adjacent rooms. "This one is yours. I'm right next door if you need anything," he offered, his tone softening just slightly.

"If I need anything, I'll ask someone else," I retorted, my voice cold, as I forcefully opened the door to my room and hurried inside.

I threw my bag onto the bed and collapsed beside it, a move I instantly regretted. Pain shot through my ribs like a bolt of lightning, forcing a sharp yelp from my lips. Damn, my ribs weren't healed yet. I lay there for a few minutes, hoping the pain would ebb away, but it clung stubbornly.

Leaving my room, I knocked on a door I was certain wasn't Zarek's. Logan answered.

"Hey Leo!" He chirped.

"No one has ever called me Leo, Logan," I retorted with a roll of my eyes.

"Well, get used to it. What's up?"

"Do you have a painkiller?"

Before Logan could respond, Zarek's voice interrupted from behind me, "Why do you need a painkiller?"

"My ribs," I answered, directing my gaze solely at Logan, trying to avoid Zarek's probing eyes.

"Follow me," Zarek commanded, brushing past the awkwardness I was weaving around him. Logan gave a sympathetic shrug and closed his door.

???

In Zarek's bedroom, he rifled through his shelf, returning with an ointment and a bottle of painkillers.

"You've been sparring while you were in pain?"

"Nope. Just landed on the bed wrong." I said, my response curt.

"You're upset with me." He concluded from the sharpness in my tone.

"No, I'm not."

"You can cuss me out, Leora. What I did—stalking you—was beyond wrong. I shouldn't have…fuck. I just knew that if something happened, it'd be my fault."

"I'm not upset about that. I understand why you did what you did." I blurted out.

He frowned in confusion. "So, you are upset about something."

"You want the truth, or the watered-down version of my anger?"

"Anger, huh? I want the truth. Always."

He gently lifted my shirt to apply the ointment on the bruising ribs that had turned a mottled blue-green. I tensed, not just from the cool ointment but from the contrasting heat of his touch.

"No one has seen my breasts in two years and three months. And then the one person who did was unaffected by them," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could catch them, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and hurt. I closed my eyes, partly to hide my discomfort, partly because the cool touch of the ointment soothed the physical pain.

"Two years?" His tone was a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place .

I bit my lip, opening my eyes to meet his. "Yes. It's been a long time."

"I wasn't… It's not that—"

"Please stop. You wanted the truth, I gave it." I cut him off, not ready to hear excuses or rationalizations.

He nodded and continued applying the ointment. His hand slightly slipped towards the edge of my breasts and I involuntarily gasped.

"I wasn't unaffected," he whispered, "I said I was trained to not get affected, but I failed miserably. I was more than just affected and I didn't want to be. You're a civilian, Leora. If anything happens, the squad will be dissolved."

"Why would anything happen if you're affected by my boobs? Make some sense." I scoffed weakly.

He shifted his position on the bed slightly and cupped my breasts, "If I'm affected, I'm compromised. If I'm compromised, I'm a liability. And a liability can get people killed."

"Then why were you stalking me?" I challenged him.

He blew out a harsh breath. "Because that was the closest I could get to you, without trapping you into this life."

"I'm here now. You couldn't stop that." I breathed out.

"I couldn't. But I'll get you back on track." He sounded defeated.

As his thumb brushed gently over my peaked nipple, a ripple of desire flickered across his expression–a yearning he was struggling to control.

"You're resisting this." I called him out.

"I am."

"Why? "

With his eyes shut, he answered. "None of us have significant others, Leora. And if…"

He remained silent.

"If what?"

He took a deep breath in and looked at me. "If you're it, which I think you might turn out to be, then I'm screwing over the squad, or worse, I'm dead."

His gaze softened and I whimpered when his hand squeezed my breast gently.

"Kiss me," I whispered.

His nostrils flared in anguish and he said the one word I dreaded, "No."

He slipped his hand out of my t-shirt, handed me the bottle of painkillers, and left the room. If embarrassed was how I felt the past few times Zarek rejected me, this felt like devastation. I had bluntly asked him, and he still left me yearning. A kiss wouldn't be enough to land him in the grave, would it?

Drop it, Leora. A few days, maybe weeks, and then you're out of his life.

I got up and left for my room.