Page 34 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

"Kidnapping involves children." Vincent's eyes come my way, drifting over my less than well-dressed form. "You're not a child."

"Don't get into semantics with me." I know I shouldn't fight with him, but I can't help it. "You can't just lock me away at headquarters and leave me there to rot."

Vincent sighs, the sound loud and long. Like suffering through this drive with me is the worst thing that’s happened to him today. "No one has said anything about keeping you at headquarters, so I don't know where you came up with that idea."

"You said you were taking me there. You said you were taking me home." He's not gonna make me think I don't know what's been said and what's not. Now that I’m notfreaking all the way out, I can follow a fucking conversation.

"That's right. I said I was taking you home. To my actual fucking home, for Christ's sake." I can tell he's annoyed with me, but oddly enough his shoulders seem to be relaxing. The hard edge of his anger softening.

I stare at him a few seconds longer, only getting a little distracted at the square line of his jaw and the perfect crop of his silvery beard, before my misunderstanding hits me. "You don't live at GHOST’s headquarters."

Vincent's brows pinch together and he looks at me like I'm stupid. And, honestly, given the events of the past few days, maybe I am. "Why would I live at GHOST’s headquarters?"

Now that I'm really pondering it, I don't know why I would think that, but I did. I’ve imagined Vincent a lot—too much—and in my little fantasy world, he lived and breathed GHOST. It would only make sense that he would reside on property.

"So youdon'tlive at GHOST headquarters?" I try to wrap my mind around this new information, attempting to adjust the life my brain built for Vincent. "Where do you live then?"

Vincent sighs again, ever the long-suffering mercenary. "I live in a house, Jules. With windows and doors and furniture and a cat."

I know his description was meant to be asshole-ish and point out how silly my assumption was, but I get caught up on the very last word he says. "You have a cat?"

If discovering Vincent didn't live at GHOST’s headquarters was a surprise, finding out he has a cat is a completefucking curveball.

"Am I not allowed to have a pet, Julieanne?" He’s back to calling me by my whole first name, but it doesn't seem like it's because he's royally pissed at me. Great. Now he’s thrown my whole theory about name usage out the window.

"Of course you can have a pet, I just didn't expect you to have a cat." A dog, definitely. Something big and scary like him. Probably named Cujo or something. "What's your cat's name?"

Vincent's back to ignoring my questions, which makes me think his cat has an absolutely fantastical name that I'm going to love.

I lean closer, resting one elbow on the console before propping my chin on my fist. "What's your cat’s name? If I'm going to be a hostage at your house, I can't just call it Cat. It's going to be my only friend since no one else can talk to me."

"You're not being held hostage." He spares me a glance before refocusing on the road. "And no one said you were allowed to talk to the cat either."

"Funny." I blow out a sigh of my own, matching Vincent's drama as I resituate myself into my seat. "Fine. I'll make up a name of my own to call it." I try to think of the most ridiculous name I can imagine. "Maybe Kitty Kitty Meow Meow." I chew my lower lip for a second before coming up with option two. "Or Butternut." I turn to look at him. "What color is it?"

"Julieanne." This time he says my name the way he does when he's warning me, and I really like when Vincent warns me.

It plucks my attention right from the whole ‘Vincenthas a cat’ thing and drops it down in the middle of ‘Vincent is a sex god’ territory. "Yes, Vincent?"

His eyes come my way as we stop at a light, and I suck in a sharp breath at the heated way his gaze moves over me. “You are about two seconds from me finding something else to occupy that mouth of yours.”

13

SMILING ISN’T ON THE RADAR

VINCENT

WHAT THE FUCK is happening to me?

Not only am I grabbing Julieanne's thigh like I can somehow magically keep her at my side forever, but I also just threatened to stuff my cock in her mouth to shut her up.

And the worst part of the whole fucking thing is, she doesn't look upset about any of it.

Dragging my hand away from the soft cushion of her body, I grit my teeth at how much the loss of contact bothers me. The need to reach for her again is overwhelming and I clench my fingers into a tight fist, fighting myself. I don’t deserve to touch her. Not now.

I almost let her get hurt.No. I almost fucking let her getkilled. If she hadn't—

My stomach rolls and I have to stop before I lose my shit. Again. Unfortunately, stopping is always easier said than done when Julieanne is around.

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