“My kind of day,” Kai’s voice carried from the kitchen, then he huffed. “But if you don’t have coffee, I’m gonna have to kill someone here.”
“Ignore him,” Zach said, nodding toward the kitchen. “He’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” Kai said and then planted a noisy kiss on Zach’s face.
Yep, definitely more than teammates.
TWENTY-FOUR
Novak
I didn’tlike Zach and Kai being in our space.
It wasn’t personal: two unknown operators introduced a hazard, and risk was something I managed, reduced, or eliminated, not invited in and given access to the same air as Caleb.
Zach was the easier of the two to catalog, disciplined and restrained, posture aligned, movements economical, the kind of man who measured before acting and didn’t waste effort, which meant he was predictable within a defined range. Still, I didn’t like the way he leaned in when Caleb was sharing intel. My attention kept returning to the space between them, calculating distance, timing, and the fastest way to intervene if necessary.
Kai was the opposite problem.
He didn’t respect boundaries because he didn’t recognize them as relevant, opening cupboards, helping himself, eating Caleb’s cookies without asking and without slowing, filling space with noise and motion that made it harder to track what mattered, and I didn’t trust that kind of chaos.
I watched him anyway.
I couldn’t dismiss their skills at what they did, though.
Between the four of us, we built a workable plan assembled from overlapping competencies and different operational instincts, with Zach anchoring structure, Caleb feeding live intel, Kai identifying routes and extraction angles while bemoaning that we couldn’t use a helicopter, and me reducing everything down to entry, neutralization, and exit with the least possible exposure.
We argued where it mattered.
We aligned where we had to.
By the time we were done, the plan held.
I caught Caleb before we stepped out, a brief interruption in the flow of movement that no one questioned because they were busy with their own checks and preparations.
He looked tired, still, even after the sleep, edges not fully reset, but focused, sharp where it counted, and that should have been enough, except it wasn’t, not when I knew exactly how fast this could go wrong and how little margin we had if it did.
I closed the distance without thinking about it and kissed him.
“Well, if we’re kissing,” Kai said immediately, because of course he did, stepping in with zero hesitation and grabbing Zach by the front of his shirt before he could even react, hauling him in and planting an exaggerated, open-mouthed kiss on him as if we were all here for his entertainment.
Zach went rigid for half a second, melted, but then pushed Kai with force, expression flat, unamused.
Kai pulled back with a grin, entirely unapologetic. “What?”
“Jesus Kai. Time and place.”
“Sorry, Boo,” Kai said, and stole one more kiss.
I ignored them.
My attention was still on Caleb.
I leaned in again, slower this time, the contact softer, deliberate, not for show, not for anyone else, needing one lasttouch before we stepped into something that would try to take him from me if I let it.
“I’m never letting you go,” I said, low enough that it stayed between us.
He held my gaze for a long moment. Then, instead of nodding, he leaned in, pressed his forehead to mine, and slid his hand along my neck—a deliberate touch, grounding us both. “Then you don’t get to,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not letting you go either. So, we do this together—your choice, my choice. We’re locked in, and that’s exactly how I want it.”
