Page 8 of Stealthy Seduction
Hudson glanced over at her, his slow drawl softer now. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m fine,” she lied again, forcing a smile she couldn’t maintain.
Because no matter how good he made her feel, no matter how deep his touch sank into her bones, the night reminded her of one hard truth—safety was a fantasy. And once she stepped out of his SUV, she’d be on her own again.
TWO
As soon as Steele shouldered through the door of the war room, he rumbled a low growl.
Every seat worth a damn was already taken. His team lounged in their chosen spots, spread out like kings in their own castle, which left him with the single chair no special operative ever wanted—back exposed to the door.
He muttered a curse under his breath, jaw tightening as he scanned the room. He hated being late. Hated being forced into the weak seat even more. A man could get a bullet in the skull before he even twitched. Not that it would happen on base, but he still didn’t like it.
Con lifted his gaze from the laptop in front of him, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. “Well, look who finally rolled out of bed. Nice to see you up bright and early, Steele.”
“Yeah,” Steele drawled, heavy on the sarcasm as he yanked the chair away from the table. “Didn’t get the group text until two minutes ago. Surprised you even asked me to join y’all.”
The legs scraped loudly across the floor as he dropped into it.
Chase smirked at him across the table. “We all hate that chair. Don’t worry, Steele. We’ll protect your six.”
“Hell of a comfort,” Steele shot back, grabbing a pen to occupy his hand and flipping it between his fingers before fixing his eyes on the big screen on the wall.
Mason arched a brow at him. “Maybe the reason our buddy Steele is stuck with the shittiest seat has something to do with Izzy Cruz.”
Inside, he jerked at her name. On the surface, he remained cool and unreactive.
Chase eyed him as if he already had a bead on what actually happened. “Alyssa got up this morning to take Izzy home. But she wasn’t in the guest room. Apparently, she left in the night.”
Steele fixed his gaze on his buddy. “I saw her up and about, cleaning up the kitchen. She asked if I could take her home. She gave me her address; I made her wear the hood. I walked her to her door. She’s safe. Don’t worry—I followed all the rules.”
Chase exchanged a look with Dante as if the pair had some private joke about him.
Mason leaned back, eyeing up Steele. “Maybe we need to put you in the truth chair.”
It was a common joke around the Blackout Charlie base. The chair read a person’s body like a damn lie detector.
Chase and the others were laughing. “Doesn’t matter if your face is stone cold, Steele. If your sphincter tightens, the chair knows you’re lying.”
Mason snorted. “Your face can hide it, but your ass never lies.”
The group burst into laughter, and Steele joined in despite him being the “butt” of the joke.
Not only had he arrived late to the briefing—something he never did—but he felt out of sorts after what happened between him and Izzy. He could use a reset, even if the team was laughing at his expense.
Con pushed away from the table and stood, his presence cutting through the lingering laughter like a blade. “All right, settle down. Time to get serious.”
The shift was immediate. Steele felt his shoulders square automatically, muscle memory kicking in as the team transitioned from razzing each other to operational mode.
It was a hell of a lot easier than thinking about soft skin and whispered demands in the dark.
“Dante, you’re up.” Con clasped his hands behind his back, legs braced wide, at the ready for the report.
Dante King, intel and tech specialist for the team, tapped a few keys, bringing up streams of data on the wall-mounted screens. His voice took on the clipped, professional tone he always used during briefings. “I’ve got the daily intelligence update on Cipher’s activities.”
Steele leaned back in his chair, pen still rotating between his fingers as he focused on the feed. The familiar rhythm of the briefing helped settle the restless energy that had been crawling under his skin since he’d woken up with Izzy’s scent lingering on the sheets.
“There are questions about whether any recent incidents are tied to Cipher.” Dante scrolled through surveillance photos and data streams. Several big recent events around the country flashed across the screen.
