Page 10 of Noel
Chapter2
Noel
Lincoln Tunnel, En Route to Weehawken
Hell of a first impression.
Not even ten minutes in and she’s already swung at me, yelled for help, and called me ridiculous—all while looking like every man’s favorite Christmas wish wrapped in a wool coat and panic.
Holly Winters.
Connor’s file hadn’t done her justice.
It had said professional, event planner, strong work ethic, lives alone.
It hadn’t said anything about the way she’d trembled but refused to back down, or how her chin had tilted just so when she was scared out of her mind, daring the world not to break her.
It sure as hell hadn’t mentioned that smile, or how the sound of her voice crawls under my skin like static.
And that picture of her?It didn’t do her justice.
It sure as fuck hadn’t prepared me for the jolt I felt zip through my central nervous system when I got a peek at those flashing silver eyes of hers.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, keeping a two-car distance behind her little blue hatchback as we merge into the stream of traffic heading toward the Lincoln Tunnel.
Her taillights flicker in the wet night, steady and small against the blur of city neon.
I shouldn’t be thinking about the curve of her mouth or the way she’d blushed when I called her Tinsel.
Stupid nickname, yeah—but something about her had made me want to ease the fear out of her eyes.
That’s not part of the job.
Sigma rules are clear.
No personal involvement with clients.
Keep it clean.Keep it distant.
Connor didn’t have to remind me—hell, he probably assumed I didn’t even know how to flirt anymore.
But there’s something about her.
I can feel it.
That pull in my chest—the one I’ve trained myself to ignore for years—tugs every time she glances at her mirrors, checking to make sure I’m still there.
She doesn’t know it, but I can read fear in every movement of her car.
The too-fast signal changes.The hesitation before turns.The little corrections she makes when her mind’s somewhere else.
Yeah, she’s rattled.Badly.
And whoever’s behind those notes?They’ve crossed a line.
I roll my shoulders, forcing the tension down.My instincts have kept me alive this long, and they’re screaming now—whoever’s stalking her isn’t just playing games.
They’ve been watching.Tracking.Planning.
