Page 14 of Code Name: Grit

I softened my tone. “I need to know you can stay focused if we run into him while undercover.”

“I won’t jeopardize the mission,” she said, her expression fierce. “Or your safety.”

“This isn’t a test run,” I said, leaning closer. “Once we’re in, we’re each on our own if things go south. K19 can provide backup, but extraction takes time.”

“I understand the risks.”

“Do you?” I challenged. “Because from where I stand, you’ve spent your life running away from these people. Now, you’re running toward them.”

“I can handle it, Agent Harrison.” Her utterance of a name I’d told her repeatedly not to use reinforced the edge in her voice.

“You’re brilliant and capable,” I admitted. “But being undercover means more than just knowing your backstory. It means understanding how to react when things don’t go according to plan.”

“I’ve spent my life improvising,” she countered. “When you grow up never knowing when you’ll need to vanish in the middle of the night, adaptability becomes second nature.”

I studied her. “They need to believe we’re a couple. Think you can manage that?”

She stepped closer. “If you’re worried, you can always teach me.”

My stiffening cock was evidence that her words landed exactly as she’d hoped they would.

“All right,” I conceded. “Starting now, we’re James and Ava Sinclair, consultants specializing in various security vulnerabilities.”

She slipped smoothly into character, reciting the backgrounds Atticus had supplied without hesitation. “We met at a conference in Washington, DC, three years ago. I was presenting on facial recognition weaknesses in maritime security. You asked me out for drinks after my presentation. I turned you down, but reconsidered six months later when we crossed paths in Boston.”

“How long have we been together?”

“Two years. Married for eighteen months.”

“What happens if someone questions our relationship?” I asked, stepping closer.

Her breath caught. “We convince them.”

“How?”

She swallowed, her eyes darting briefly to my lips. “However necessary.”

The air between us thickened. This was dangerous territory—blurring the lines between professional preparation and personal attraction.

“We should practice,” I heard myself say.

“Practice what?” Her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper.

“Convincing people. Physical tells that can’t be faked. How couples look at each other.”

Her eyes widened. “That seems…prudent.”

I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. “They develop unconscious habits. Ways of touching that become second nature.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into my hand, her eyes never leaving mine. “And how would she respond?”

“That depends on their relationship,” I murmured. “On how comfortable they are with each other. On how much they trust each other.”

Her hand rested on my chest, right over my heart. “Like this?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“What else?” she asked, her fingers curling slightly into my shirt.

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