"You can't seriously think you haven't lost enough." I'm unable to keep the incredulity out of my voice. "Come on, Jack, what else could they possibly take that they haven't already?"
Jack releases a low noise of exasperation, his hands tightening on my hips enough to leave more bruises behind.
"Oh, I don't know, how about my idiot partner, who's about to walk right into one of their secret bases, armed only with the bulletproof plan of ‘fingers crossed that no one realises I'm not a completely different fucking person.’" He puts on a very unjust impression of me. “‘What else could they take, Jack?’"Then he makes an aggravated sound in his throat, clearly holding on to his patience by a very thin piece of string."For fuck’ssake."
"Oh …me," I murmur needlessly, feeling my cheeks get hot in embarrassment, both because I didn't realise the obvious and due to the fact Jack has admitted once again to caring about me with such a bold disregard for self-consciousness.
Jack stares at me then with a look on his face that is both wry and unimpressed. "No, myotherpartner." Sarcasm and scorn trip from his tongue like soothing endearments to my ears.
"Shut up." I slap his arm in admonishment, then completely undermine it by pushing forward without warning and pressing a kiss to his jaw, nipping at his skin as I pull away.
Jack sucks in a loud breath of surprise. He furrows his blond brows at me, head tilting and eyes narrowing slightly in sudden calculation, like a predator trying to decide how best to attack its prey. Having come to some unknown conclusion, he shoves me harshly back against the car and takes my mouth in a more thorough kiss, intense sensations quaking all the way down to my bones.
Jack bullies in close, his groin grinding into mine, the feel of his growing hardness lighting a fire inside my gut, fierce heat curling into a tight ball of want. Part of me wishes we'd fucked back at the safe house in Senjatas. I'd wanted to, desperately, and maybe if we had given into our urge to wreck each other there, neither of us would be so hard up for it now at the worst possible moment.
I'm so amped for Jack's cock, craving that innate roughness he seems so afraid of, but which I would now be willing to beg for, I almost make the mistake of removing my hand from blocking the camera. My near slip instigates a quick-flash reminder of why I have a camera on my jacket in the first place. It's like a swift kick to the head. There's a time limit for me to get to the OI base for the start of Connor's guard shift. I don't want to draw the kind of attention being late inevitably would.
Jack is reluctant to release me, but when I give his chest an insistent push with my free hand, he backs off, taking a few big steps back. His eyes are a very specific kind of wild, pupils dilated and the green irises glowing in the night like cats. I've only ever seen them get that way either during sex or in an extremely violent fight. It should maybe bother me those things seem so intrinsically linked for him, but I can't quite bring myself to care, especially not right now.
As much as it pains me, I force myself to be sensible. "I need to go, Jack." He watches my mouth as I talk, his body seeming to twitch all over, as if he's having to reign in the powerful desire to let go of his rational side and fuck me in the back seat of Connor's car, mission and FISA camera be damned.
I can't tell if it's because he genuinely wants me that much, or if he wants that badly for me not to go on this mission. It could be either or both. He might not even know the answer. Jack is anything but a simple person with easily understandable motivations. If our last mission taught me something rock solid about him, it's that.
"Go on, then. Piss off before I forget why I should respect your right to risk your own life." Jack bites out the words like he's angry despite the fact nothing else about him suggests he is. The slope of his shoulders indicates a resigned antipathy, and his face is set in frustration more than the rage I've become used to seeing when he gets truly pissed off about stuff, which means he's upset more than anything else.
Not wanting to make this harder for either of us, I nod at him once, stiffly, and get into the car. There's nothing I can say that will reassure Jack. He's going to be fretting internally until this mission is done, and we have Rohan back in the safety of FISA's base.
I try not to feel like shit as I drive away from Jack, watching him as he gets smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror. I shake my head, refocusing my mind on what lies ahead rather than on whom I'm leaving behind.
Chapter twelve
Leo
"ID,please,"demandsagruff-sounding man in an outfit identical to mine, holding out his hand from the window of a booth situated outside the OI facility's main gate.
I dig into the pocket of Connor's borrowed jacket and produce the ID North stuffed in there for me to use. Keeping my head tipped down and partially hidden by shadow, I thrust the ID at the OI guard, hoping he'll be quick in scanning it.
Luck is with me tonight as the man barely glances at the ID before handing it back. He presses a button on a console inside the booth, and the large metal gate begins to slide open.
"Have a good shift, Lark," the OI guard says with an apathetic sort of politeness, already having dismissed me from his attention.
I don't bother to reply, since the guard isn't even looking at me anymore, and drive through the opened gate into the facility's large car park. There are plenty of empty spaces, possibly due to the late hour.
I'm grateful Connor had a night shift, otherwise, I'd be more apprehensive about walking around the OI base with potentially far more people there during the day.
According to Lark, his duties as an OI guard mostly consist of patrolling the inside of the facility. As I walk towards the entrance of the building, I see a handful of guards who are likely part of the team who patrol the perimeter and outside areas.
I was initially worried about having to clock in with a supervisor who might recognise the obvious fact I'm not Connor, but North reassured me that all I would need to do is sign in at the front desk to notify them I've arrived for my shift. After that, he said I should be able to manoeuvre around the base with relative ease as long as I don't try to go anywhere Connor would be restricted from entering.
Walking into the main lobby area of the building, which looks like every other scientific-research-facility lobby I've ever seen, with its shining marble floors and modern decor, I'm relieved to see there isn't anyone manning the desk. North was right. It's all digital. There's a touchpad, where I'm easily able to sign in with Connor's name and badge number. After that, all I need to do is use the same badge to enter through a security gate, which stands between the lobby and the rest of the base.
I keep my face downturned, trying to avoid being caught on any of the numerous cameras I've spotted so far, dotted all over the building.
There's a set of winding metal stairs alongside two large lifts, both of which lead up to the next floor. I decide to take the stairs, hoping there's less chance I'll bump into anyone on them than there would be if I rode the lift. The last thing I want is to be trapped in an enclosed space for any length of time with people who might have met Connor before. If that happens, I could potentially pretend to be a new guard who just started their first shift, but there's always a chance that could blow up in my face if the same people ask to see my ID for whatever reason.
Despite not being very forthcoming about the inner layout of the OI facility, the FISA interrogation agents did manage to get Connor to admit that the containment cells are on the third floor.
I'm more than a little cautious about one hundred percent trusting any information taken from someone who works for OI, but since my only other choice is to wander around the base until I stumble upon the right place, I head for the third floor.
