Page 195 of Silver Elite

Cross glances over at me. “No.”

“Then why am I wearing a dress?”

“Did I ask you to wear a dress?”

I falter as I realize that no, actually, he didn’t. All he’d said was,We’re going off base. You don’t have to wear your uniform.

I smother a groan, but it slips out anyway. “Hellfucker. I made it into a date.”

“It’s okay, Dove. You wouldn’t be the first.”

He pats my arm in reassurance, and I glare at him.

My stomach suddenly flips as the helo banks hard to the left before straightening out. The late-afternoon sun is creeping toward the horizon line, bathing it in a haze of pinks and oranges. It’s beautiful. We’re flying somewhere over Ward S, and my head instinctively turns toward the west. My throat tightens with longing. For my ranch. My horse.

“You miss it,” Cross says, as if reading my mind.

“Yes.” Then I tear my gaze away.

I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I’m not complaining because it’s nice to get off the base for something other than a mission. It’s also nice when he reaches over and covers my hand with his. The pads of his fingers are rough as they stroke my knuckles.

I tip my head toward him. “What are you doing?”

“Touching your hand…Is that allowed?”

“I suppose.”

He seems to be fighting a smile as he turns his gaze toward the open door. Meanwhile, my heart is doing ridiculous things in my chest. Somersaults. Flips. An asinine dance.

I stare at his chiseled profile and bite my lip. There are so many things I want to say to him, but I force myself to stick to the facts.

You’re my enemy.

Your father hates me.

You would kill me if you knew who I was.

We could never have a future.

We will never be together.

I slide my hand out from under his and fold both of mine in my lap. I refuse to check what his expression is.

A vehicle waits for us on the tarmac after we land. It’s got an open top, and once we’re on the road, the wind whips through my hair, sending it blowing behind me. I slip the elastic off my wrist so I can tie my hair back, but Cross says, “No. Leave it down.”

And for some reason, I do.

I wonder if this is what normal people feel like. The ones who aren’t always peering over their shoulders, the ones who are happy with their lives, their job assignments, their quarters. The ones who have willingly submitted to the General’s way of life. Accepted every part of it—the checkpoints, the broadcasts, the rules. They’re all in for the greater good, and by surrendering to it, they take drives like this out in the country and allow themselves to enjoy it.

Cross parks in a wooded clearing and announces we need to walk the rest of the way, but when I ask where we’re going, he refuses to share. Just says to trust him and it’ll be worth it.

Trust.

Such a big word to be throwing around. Our talk in bed last week about it still lingers in my mind. On some level, I do trust him. Maybe not with my secrets, but I certainly trust him with my body. I trust that he would protect me in the field the way he would any other Elite operative.

Considering his last name is Redden, that’s a lot more trust than I ever believed myself capable of giving to him.

I’m wearing sandals with my dress, not exactly hiking shoes, so I only make it about ten minutes before I’m grumbling with irritation and cursing every time a twig stabs me in the toe.

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