Page 19 of No Words
I scan the area. Disturbed underbrush, a broken branch, all signs of surveillance. Amateur mistakes, but the message is clear: they’ve found us. Question is how.
My connection to Killian’s network should have kept us invisible. Someone’s talking. When I find them, they’re dead.
Once inside, I grab the radio and program a new frequency. The cabin’s security system needs upgrading before our visitors return with friends.
“Rise and shine, counselor,” I call through the bedroom door. “We have work to do.”
Molly emerges minutes later, hair tousled from sleep, wearing the oversized t-shirt I gave her yesterday. Her eyes immediately lock onto the security monitors, reading my tension.
“What happened?” she asks.
“We had a visitor.” I hand her coffee while examining the topographical map spread across the table. “Borsellini’s scout. Just reconnaissance for now, but they’ll be back.”
Fear flashes across her face quickly replaced by determination. Good. Fear keeps you alive, but panic gets you killed.
“What’s the plan?”
“I’m setting up additional cameras and motion sensors. You will need to go through the evacuation plan again.” I outline four escape routes, contingency rendezvous points, emergencysignals. She absorbs everything with the quick intelligence that makes her such an effective prosecutor.
“I need to check the blind spots in our perimeter,” I tell her. “You’ll stay here and monitor the feeds. If anything moves, use this.” I hand her the radio, our fingers brushing. The contact sends an inappropriate jolt through my body that I push aside.
“Channel three is secure. Keep it on. I’ll check in every fifteen minutes.” I clip my own radio to my belt. “If I don’t, there’s a Glock taped under the kitchen sink. Use it.”
Her golden-brown eyes widen slightly. “You think it’ll come to that?”
“I prefer to plan for worst-case scenarios.” I check my watch. “Fifteen minutes. Keep the doors locked.”
Outside, I move through the forest, placing motion sensors in a wide perimeter. The work is methodical, demanding focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Molly in the cabin.
My radio at my hip crackles. “Cole?” Her voice sounds controlled, professional.
“I’m almost done,” I respond. “Moving to the other side.”
As I position the final sensor, my radio crackles again, but this time with no words, just the sound of movement, fabric against skin, a soft exhale. She’s forgotten to release the talk button.
I’m about to respond when I realize what I’m hearing: Molly, alone in the cabin, thinking I can’t hear her. The soft catch in her breath, the subtle rhythm. My body responds immediately, blood rushing south.
I should kill the feed. Should give her privacy. Instead, I listen to every breath, every sound she makes while she thinks she’s alone. Her quiet gasps filter through, and I can’t help but imagine what she’s doing and how she looks. Part of me knows this is a violation, but something darker, something I’ve kept controlled for too long, overrides it.
“I can hear you,” I say into the radio, my voice dropping to a register I hardly recognize.
The sounds stop abruptly. Dead silence.
“The talk button is stuck,” I continue. “I can hear everything.”
Her breathing changes, embarrassment, maybe fear. But not disgust. Not rejection.
“Don’t stop,” I command softly. “Touch yourself like I’m watching. Because I am.”
For three heartbeats, nothing. Then a shaky exhale. “I don’t?—“
“You do,” I interrupt. “You want this as much as I do. The danger, the control. It turns you on.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then her voice, barely audible: “Yes.”
“Good girl.” The words come out rough. Something hot spreads through my chest listening to her surrender. “Tell me where your hands are right now.”
Her voice filters through hesitant and breathless. “On my stomach.”
