Page 78 of Protecting the Nerd

“God, I love that movie,” York said. “People say it should’ve been shorter, but I like that Peter Jackson took his time developing the story and the characters.”

“Agreed, though it’s still nowhere near as deep and complex as the books.”

“Movies never are, but I think this was one of the best book-to-movie adaptations.”

“Hmm, you may very well be right.”

I traced the outline of his short beard with my fingertips. It was moments like these—quiet, honest—that I’d come to cherish. As much as I loved the sex, the intimacy mattered most.

My phone shattered the tranquility, its ringtone slicing through the air. York’s body tensed against mine, and I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and then checked the caller ID. Coulson. “I need to take this. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I whispered. I pressed a kiss to his temple and extricated myself from the couch.

No way was I taking this call in front of him. If it was bad news, I wanted to prepare myself and figure out the best way to tell him.

He nodded, and I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me as I answered. “Coulson, what’s up?”

“We need to move York to a safe house.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“We lost eyes on them. They slipped our surveillance.”

“Fuck. Are they headed here?”

“We don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

…

Oh, hell no. “You’re not moving him without me.”

“Quillon…”

“No. And that’s a hard, final no. I’m not leaving his side.”

“That’s not your call. I could make you. I’m a federal agent, Quillon. Trust me when I say I could go over your head so high up you won’t even be able to take a shit without our permission.”

My throat tightened. “I don’t doubt it, but you won’t. You know York will raise hell if you try to move him and leave me behind.”

“Will he? Or is that you telling him he should?”

I snorted. “Jesus, Coulson, have you met him? That man does nothing he doesn’t want to.” Then softer, “But please don’t do this. He’s not in a good place right now. He needs me.”

Coulson groaned. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was the best for him.”

“I know. Let me see what I can do, but you’ll want to prepare him. We’re moving him tonight.”

On such short notice? Fuck. That meant things were truly dire. “Okay. We’ll start packing. Keep me posted.”

When I walked back into the living room, York’s eyes, usually so guarded and contemplative, were wide with concern as he scanned my face. “Something wrong?”

“The FBI wants to move you to a safe house.”

He paled. “Did something happen?”

“The Russian nationals they were monitoring slipped their surveillance, and they don’t know their whereabouts.”

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