Jesus Christ.
He dug his nails into his scalp until it stung.
First step was clear: make the secure call to the cover number. Bullet-point the facts. Follow with the written intel report. Wait for the meet, face-to-face, where the sensitive stuff could be handed over without risk of interception. That was the job. The system. The rule book.
So why wasn’t he doing it?
Because the second he made that call, the leash would tighten. He’d be told to hold position, let things play out, stay out of that house. Don’t spook Reid. Don’t compromise cover. Which in real terms meant leaving Jude right where he was, alone with Reid, until the op decided it was time to move.
Warren wasn’t sure he could stomach it.
The front door latch turning snapped through the quiet like a shot. He scraped his chair back hard as he came up on his feet, sliding one hand under the lip of the table to where he’d taped a fixed-blade flat to the underside. Standard discreet defensive weapon should he ever need it.
A shadow filled the hall.
“Stand down, Sergeant.” Naomi’s amused voice came calm, dry, and familiar. She stepped inside, kicking the door shut with her heel and dropping her holdall by the wall.
Warren let the knife go, the tension unspooling from his shoulders. He didn’t move for a second. Habit made him runthe mental checklist before he sat back down. Breathing evenly. Hands clear. Lines of sight to both doors intact. This wasn’t a fully equipped safehouse. No guards standing by. No uniforms on watch and no CCTV. All they had was each other. It hadn’t been deemed a dangerous operation. Simple surveillance.
Naomi arched a brow as she shrugged off her jacket. “What’s got you spooked?”
Warren exhaled through his nose, a sound that could’ve been a laugh if it had any humour in it. “Nothing.”
He didn’t look at her when he said it.
That alone told her enough.
Naomi walked through to the kitchen as Warren dropped back into his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. She paused long enough to read him, then pulled open the fridge.
“I’m going to need you Saturday.” She let the fridge door thump shut, twisted the cap off a bottle of water, and took a long drink.
Warren glanced over. “For what?”
“The Radleys are hosting a do.” She arched her brows, clicking the cap back into place. “Guess who’s been put in charge of service.”
He smirked. “Well played.”
“I know. Thank you.” She curtseyed. “Told them my cousin’s looking for cash-in-hand work and could wait tables. Patel’ll clear a couple of others. We’ll seed the place without them clocking it.”
“What’s the event?”
“Standard Worthbridge mixer. Local business, council faces. Might get us into rooms I haven’t been invited to yet. and let us see who Radley’s shaking hands with.”
“Alright. Run it through Patel first. Might look a bit off, PE teacher moonlighting on the weekends.”
“Plausible enough. Already told them you’re my cousin.”
“True.” Warren shifted his gaze away.
Naomi tipped her head, watching him. “So… how was your little school trip with the cherubs?”
Warren let out a short snort. “One lad torched a lifelong friendship by snogging his girlfriend’s best mate, and I’m pretty sure Worthbridge Academy’s blacklisted from the Premier Inn Portsmouth until they figure out how to get mystery stains out of the carpet.”
Naomi pulled a face.
“Breakfast stains,” he added. “Obviously.”
“Obviously. Unless you and the teacher…” She crooked a finger in a knowing little gesture.
