Page 32 of Code Name: Grit

“Lumi, once we cross this line, there’s no going back.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “You know as well as I do that we need to stay focused on the mission.”

I swallowed my disappointment, knowing he was right. “And when it ends?”

He smiled. “After, I won’t have any reason not to kiss you.”

The promise in his words sent heat spiraling through me. “I’ll hold you to that.”

His lips brushed my forehead before he stepped away. “Get some rest. We have another long day tomorrow.”

As I retreated to the bedroom, I wondered if he’d follow. When he pulled out the sofa bed’s mattress, I had my answer.

I lay awake long after the lights went out, listening to Grit’s movements in the other room. For the first time in my life, I found myself caught between two instincts—the lifetime habit ofemotional detachment that had kept me safe, and the growing desire to let someone see me completely.

9

GRIT

Iwas up early after another fitful night of sleep on the sofa bed. The framework dug into my back no matter how I positioned myself, but physical discomfort wasn’t what kept me awake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kelly’s face, her blood pooling on our apartment floor. Then her features would morph into Lumi’s, and I’d jolt awake, heart hammering against my ribs.

I couldn’t go down that road again. I wouldn’t. The cost was too high.

It wasn’t just that. Every time I thought about the man I’d seen entering Galliano’s last night, it felt like a knife to my gut. Another betrayal from someone I’d trusted.

The sound of Lumi shifting in the bedroom pulled me from those thoughts. Knowing she was awake, I sent the message I’d drafted to Tank, requesting our immediate return to Canada Lake.

When he confirmed Lumi and I were the only two still in the city, I asked him to schedule an emergency briefing with the entire team.

While waiting for his confirmation, I packed our gear. By the time Lumi emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes, I’d already stowed most of our equipment and had my bag near the door.

“Did you make coffee?” she asked, voice still rough with sleep.

“No time. The helicopter’s waiting. We’re heading back to the command center.”

Her brow furrowed. “Right now? Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

Instead of saying she needed the rest like I had yesterday, I kept my tone clipped. “I expect you to be a professional who understands we’re here to do a job. This isn’t an all-expenses-paid vacation in New York City.”

She flinched, and while she didn’t tell me to fuck off with a word, her eyes certainly did. Seconds after she abruptly left the room, I heard water running in the shower.

She emerged fifteen minutes later, bag packed, hair still damp, expression guarded.

The two-hour helicopterride was tense. Lumi sat beside me, staring out the window while I pretended to review notes on my tablet. The truth was, I couldn’t focus on anything but the memory of her in my arms last night and how dangerously close I’d come to crossing a line I warned her against.

When we touched down on Kane Mountain Great Camp’s makeshift helipad, Dragon and Atticus met us with two all-terrain golf carts.

“I’ll meet you in the command center after I drop my stuff,” I said to Lumi without making eye contact. As I turned to get in the cart driven by Atticus, I caught Dragon’s raised brow at the obvious tension between us but said nothing.

As he drove along the wooded trail, the rhythmic bounce over the pine-strewn paths reminded me of my place in Cold Spring and the winding gravel drive that led to my stone-and-timber sanctuary in the Hudson Valley. The house, which was two-thirds of the way between here and the city, was the first place that had felt like home since I left Charlottesville, Virginia, where my parents had raised me.

I’d purchased it seven years ago, after closing a trafficking case that left me feeling hollowed out. Once it ended, the city felt suffocating, so I’d used the money I banked from an inheritance from my grandparents to buy the place outright.

As we rounded the bend toward the lakeside camps—as cabins were referred to in the Adirondacks—I found myself longing for those two acres overlooking the river.

My house there wasn’t much—barely twelve hundred square feet—but it held more of me than any other place. The river rock fireplace. The exposed beams salvaged from a collapsed barn. The deck where I’d spend mornings sipping coffee, watching mist rise from the water below. No neighbors close enough to hear a conversation; just distant lights through the trees at night.

It struck me that I hadn’t been back in weeks. This op and the missions before it had consumed everything. I wondered if the leaves had turned a deep red yet or if Mrs. Kinsella down the road had left her usual basket of apples on my porch like she did every September.

The ATV slowed as we approached my temporary quarters, and I pushed thoughts of home aside. This wasn’t the time for nostalgia. Not with a colleague’s betrayal fresh in my mind and the weight of Lumi’s hurt expression still haunting me.

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