Page 49 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

I scowl. "And before you interrupted me, I was trying to tellyouthat I didn't reach out to anyone in Nashville."

Vincent's eyes narrow on me, like he doesn't believe what I'm telling him. "No one?"

"No one." Yes, I approached a few different organizations before I came across GHOST, but not a single one of them was located in Nashville. Mostly because I’m ready toget the fuck out of Nashville. I've lived there my whole life and it doesn't necessarily hold the best memories for me. Now that both my sons are gone at different colleges across the country, nothing ties me to the place.

Vincent studies me a second longer and I wonder if he still doesn't believe me, but his tone gentles. "My team needs access to your system, Jules. I need you to let them have it so we can find out who the fuck showed up at your condo, because we both know they weren't there with good intentions."

I didn't technically know that, but I assumed that Vincent wouldn’t go around shooting harmless people. And harmless people don't necessarily hunt down innocent women in the middle of the night. Both of those realizations make it a little easier to come to terms with the killing we both did.

So I know Vincent's right. I know this is what needs to happen. And I'm actually okay with it. I nod. "I can do that, but I'll need Internet."

Vincent takes a slow breath, and I get the feeling he's trying to keep from losing his shit. "Okay."

He seems a little on edge, but not dangling from the cliff, so I decide to push for just a tiny bit more. "It would probably be more helpful for everyone if I'm there, helping them understand what they're seeing."

Vincent's lips flatten. "Absolutely not. You’re staying here."

I lift one shoulder and let it drop, trying to seem casual and like I don't know I have the upper hand. "That's fine. It might take them a few months to understand the encoding, butI guess that's fine."

Vincent lifts his hand from my thigh, this time to rub over his face. I know he's tired. It’s been a long few days. I get it. I'm not trying to be difficult—really I'm not.

But his options are limited.

Vincent takes another breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he blows it back out. "What do you mean, understand the encoding?"

"There’s a program that will do some of it, but it won't translate everything." I'm not going to smile now, but I desperately want to. Because Vincent’s about to be very upset with me. “Part of it is in my head, so they’ll have to try to decipher that without any sort of a key.”

Vincent's hand drops and his expression is almost comical.

"I tried to tell you that you should hire me," I whisper, because I know I shouldn't be saying it. I know it’s the last thing he wants to hear, but I can't help it. I would have been good for his team and I'm getting no small amount of enjoyment over him being faced with that truth.

"Not the time, Jules." Vincent sighs loudly before pushing to his feet, rolling his chair back across the tiled floor. "Come on then." He tugs me off the desk. "I was going to take you to bed and fuck you into tomorrow, but if this is what you want—"

I drag my feet a little. "Wait a minute."

He pulls me harder, the hand holding mine gripping tight. "No changing your mind now, Angel Face. You made your choice. Now you’ve gotta live with it."

I scoff. "I didn't know the options."

He stops short and my momentum carries me straight into his chest when he spins to face me. Vincent's armlocks around my waist, pinning my front to his. "You should always assume me fucking you into tomorrow is an option."

Before I can react, he’s turning away and dragging me down the hall again.

"I can't go like this." I motion at my sloppy appearance with one hand even though he's not looking at me. I don't want to walk into GHOST headquarters in Vincent's clothes and socked feet. The least he can do is wait until I can get my hands on a more appropriate outfit.

"Again, you made your choice." He keeps leading me through the house, past the kitchen to the garage, but pauses at the door, opening the closet beside it to retrieve a heavy coat. He wraps it around me, zipping it up before lifting the hood over my head. "Your things will be here in the morning. Until then, we have to work with what we've got."

Once I'm bundled up, he takes me out into the garage and piles me into the sleek SUV we drove from the airport. He belts me in and closes the door before taking his place behind the wheel. After punching the button to open the overhead door and starting the engine, he turns on my seat warmer and adjusts the vents, making sure every bit of warmth they produce is directed my way.

"I'm not cold." I love him taking care of me like this, but I don't want Vincent to think I'm not capable of surviving in Alaska. Would it be better if I had actual clothes on instead of sweatpants and socks? Probably, but I won't die. Except maybe of embarrassment when his team sees me like this.

"Good." Vincent backs out of the garage, pausing toclose the door before using a small bit of paved space to turn around so we leave his gated driveway facing forward. Now that I'm a little rested and paying more attention, I notice something odd.

"Why is your driveway so clear?" There is snow stacked everywhere, but Vincent's driveway is empty of any sort of snowfall or ice. There are piles of it lining each side, but even shoveling wouldn't get it this clear.

"It's heated."

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. "You have a heated driveway?"

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