I look up at the rafters while I search for the right words. “He doesn't slow down. He stacks one mission on top of the next so hedoesn’t have to look up.”
She frowns. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is.” After a pause, I add, “By design.”
Kira props herself on an elbow and studies my face. “He’s hard to read.”
“Also by design. If you can’t read him, you can’t get close enough to distract him,” I explain.
“And yet,” she says quietly, “he watches everything.”
“Especially you.” I look back at the empty space above us and think about all the subtle ways Viper’s changed since Kira’s been here.
“Do you think he feels the same way you do?” she asks.
I see how he looks at her, how it’s different from his usual vigilance. He’s different when she’s around, but it’s not my place to answer.
“I think,” I say carefully, “Viper feels more than he allows himself to acknowledge. And when he does … he avoids it.”
“I don’t want to assume. Or push him.”
“You shouldn’t. But if you want to know where you stand with him, you’re going to have to ask him. He won’t offer it up on his own.”
She rests her forehead against my shoulder and sighs. “Of course he won’t.”
I tighten my arm around her. “He’s not good at wanting things he can’t control.”
“That makes three of you.”
I laugh and press a kiss into her hair. “He’ll come around. In his own time.”
She looks hopeful, and for a moment, part of her is elsewhere, probably out there walking the grounds with him. I bite back a flare of jealousy and try to absorb the understanding that Kira’s feelings for Viper don’t need to be a loss.
This isn’t about ownership.
I breathe in the scent of her soap and shampoo, and tighten my arm around her, anchoring myself to the way she feels against me, and to the fact that she’s with me because shewantsto be.
CHAPTER 32
KIRA
Boyd helps me put on my boots, then holds my coat so I can slip my arms into the sleeves.
When I tuck my bra into one of the pockets, he gives me a wicked smile, his eyes darting to my chest. I think he might have a favorite part when it comes to my body.
I certainly have my own preferences when it comes to him.
Our walk back to the house is quiet except for the snow underfoot. The cold air stings my cheeks, but Boyd stays close, his fingers twined with mine until we reach the door that leads into the ops center.
As soon as we step inside, a voice turns my blood to ice.
“…just want her home safely.”
My body reacts before my brain can make sense of what I’m hearing. My heart lurches hard enough to make me dizzy, and I stop short, grasping Boyd’ssleeve, preparing to flee.
It’shisvoice, and for a long, horrible second, I think he’s here. That he somehow found me, breached the perimeter, broke through all defenses.
Then a woman speaks in a measured tone. “Can you tell us more about the last time you saw your fiancée?”
