Page 40 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

The explanation is odd to me. For a number of reasons. Vincent doesn't seem like the kind of person who would struggle under pressure. He seems like he would thrive on it. And people's livesarein his hands every day. Usually the end of them.

"But—"

His eyes jump to mine, expression less guarded than I've ever seen it. "It's not the same, Jules."

I nod because I guess he's right. There is a difference between saving someone good and killing someone bad.Didn’t I just kill someone bad? And then did all sorts of naughty things less than two hours later, the event already at the back of my mind?

Somehow I doubt I would have felt the same if I failed to save someone who deserved to be saved.

A flash of something that looks a lot like grief passes across Vincent's eyes. Like so many of his emotions, it's there and gone, but I know I saw it. And it makes me shift forward. Brings my hands to rest against his cheeks, the slightly rough texture of his beard rubbing against my palms. "It's only different to certain people." I lean in and press my lips against his in a soft kiss. He's perfectly still, like he's not sure what to do as I pull back and give him a smile. "And it's different to you because you’re sweet."

He scowls at me, an expression I’m starting to find endearing as hell. “I’m not sweet, Angel Face. Not sure how many times I have to say it.”

I keep smiling, because the longer I’m with him, the more I’m realizing that while this man might be deadly as fuck to some people, he’s not to me. And after too many years of living life on the flipside, the thought of Vincent showing only me the best of himself, soothes a hurt I never managed to fix on my own.

“Right.” I lean closer, looping my arms around his neck. “I guess it will be our little secret then.”

His eyes stay narrowed on me even as his hands come to pull me closer. “It fucking better.”

15

EVERY HERO NEEDS A FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE

VINCENT

I FORCE MYSELF not to react as Julieanne stares out the windshield of the SUV I left at the airport in Fairbanks. Igor made sure it was warmed and waiting when we landed, making the process of getting on the road seamless. I’m grateful as hell because I need a little seamlessness after the past few days.

And especially after spending the past eight hours with Julieanne curled around me, sound asleep as we left Nashville behind. It was a new experience for me, both the way she snuggled against me and the way I struggled to keep my hands off her. The soft press of her body into mine and the sweet scent of her skin had me drifting off, relaxing when I should have been working.

The woman is a distraction. One I can’t seem to get away from. Even now I can’t keep my eyes off her. Can’t force my gaze away from her expression as she reacts to seeing my home. To say she looks impressed is an understatement.

Her dark eyes widen as we pulloff the road and through the heavy gate. She scoots to the edge of her seat as I punch the opener clipped to the visor and one garage bay opens.

I've never brought anyone here before, so how impressive it may or may not be to another person has never been relevant. I'm the one who lives here and I like it, so that was all that ever mattered.

Now, as much as I hate to admit it, her opinion matters to me.

I want to keep pretending Julieanne's only here because I have to protect her from herself, but I'm only going to be able to deny the truth for so long. And I think that time will run out very, very soon.

"Holy shit, Vincent." Her eyes dart my way before snapping back to the building in front of us. "This is your house?"

I don't answer because I don't trust myself not to say too much. To spew all my secrets like some sort of lovesick fool. That’s not what I am.

My silence doesn't matter though. Julieanne will happily carry on a conversation with me regardless of how much I actually participate. "This place is stunning." She leans forward in her seat, like getting closer will offer her a better look. "It's seriously gorgeous."

"Did you think I'd live in a shack?" My mouth opens all on its own, but at least it’s something abrasive that comes out. I have to keep it that way. My only hope of keeping this under control is to ensure Julieanne abandons whatever interest she has in me, because it would appear I may not be able to get past the fascination I have with her.

It's a problem I've never had before, and I'm clearly ill-equipped to deal with it. That's why, no matter how muchI intend to push her away, I continue dragging her closer. So close in fact, that she’ll be sleeping in my bed for the foreseeable future.

I nearly groan at the thought. Partly out of disappointment in myself. Partly out of frustration. But mostly out of an emotion I refuse to put a name to. It already has too much power over me as it is.

Julieanne rolls her eyes. "Of course I didn't think you lived in a shack." Her eyes go back to the mid-century modern structure etched into the mountainside. "But I sure as hell didn't expect this." She turns my way as I navigate the driveway, her smile warm and bright. "I guess there's worse places to be held hostage."

I sigh as I ease into the garage, being careful to ensure she has plenty of room to get out. "You're not being held hostage."

Her brows lift. "So I can leave?"

It seems she’s refreshed from the nap she took on the flight and ready to start giving me shit again. And Julieanne giving me shit always ends the same way—with me balls deep inside her—so I need to shut it down.

---