"Intelligence work takes time." He cut into his lamb with the precision he brought to everything. "Rushing leads gets people killed."
"I know. But I had an idea—something that might accelerate things."
His fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I'm listening."
"There's a contact in the old industrial district. Someone who used to work for Mercy Logistics before the company cleaned house last year. He's been laying low, but Matt's sources say he's willing to talk for the right price." The lie came easily, woven from threads of truth I'd gathered over weeks of careful observation. "He knows the supply routes. The safe houses. Maybe even the names of the buyers."
Nathan's expression was unreadable. "Matt's sources?"
"I know. Matt's not exactly connected to the intelligence community. But the bar attracts a certain clientele." I shrugged, the gesture calculated to seem casual. "You'd be surprised what people confess to their bartender after three whiskeys."
"And this contact—he's reliable?"
"According to Matt, he's scared. Mercy's been cleaning house, and he's worried he's next. He wants protection in exchange for information."
"Then we'll approach him together. Standard protocol—you take point, I cover—"
"No." I set down my fork, meeting his eyes with the steady gaze I'd practiced in the mirror. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. This contact... he's paranoid. Specifically paranoid about men in tactical gear. Apparently, his former employers used female operatives for their wetwork, and he's got a thing about it. He'll only meet with a woman."
"Then I'll stay out of sight. Long-range cover."
"It's not enough." I reached across the table, my fingers brushing his wrist. "Nathan, this could be the break we've been waiting for. The chance to finally dismantle the network that created Gabriel, that created all of us. But if this guy gets spooked, if he sees a shadow that shouldn't be there, he'll disappear. And we'll lose our best lead."
The silence stretched between us. I watched him weigh the risks, his tactical mind cataloguing variables the way he'd taught me to do.Asset extraction protocols. Risk assessment matrices. The careful calculus of when to deploy and when to withdraw.
"I don't like it," he said finally. "The thought of you out there alone—"
"I won't be alone." I squeezed his wrist. "I'll have comms. I'll have GPS tracking. I'll check in every hour. And if anything goes wrong, I'll abort immediately."
"The last time you were alone on a mission, you almost got killed."
"The last time I was alone on a mission, I took down six traffickers and freed fifteen women." I let a hint of steel enter my voice. "I'm not the broken doll you found in that bar, Nathan. I'm your partner. Let me prove it."
He studied my face for a long moment, and I felt the weight of his assessment like a physical thing.Does he suspect? Does he know what I've found?But his expression softened, and he turned his hand over to lace his fingers through mine.
"When did you get so stubborn?"
"I learned from the best." I smiled, and it almost reached my eyes. "Gabriel taught me to survive. You taught me to fight back. Let me use what you've given me."
The mention of Gabriel's name was deliberate—a reminder of the monster Nathan had helped create, the guilt he carried, the debt he believed he owed me. I watched it land, watched the flicker of something complicated cross his face before he masked it.
"One week," he said. "You check in every six hours. If I don't hear from you—"
"You will."
"And if the contact seems compromised—"
"I'll abort." I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed hisknuckles. "I promise."
The seduction that night was the most careful performance of my life.
I didn't attack him the way I had before—all teeth and desperate fury. That had served its purpose, channeling my rage into something he could mistake for passion. Tonight, I needed something different. Tonight, I needed him to believe, with absolute certainty, that I loved him more than anything in the world.
"Let me take care of you," I murmured, guiding him to the bedroom. "You've been so stressed lately. Let me make it better."
I undressed him slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to each inch of exposed skin. His shoulders, still bearing the fading marks of my teeth. His chest, where his heart beat steady beneath my lips. His stomach, where the muscles tensed at my touch. I took my time, building anticipation with the patience of someone who had nothing to hide.
"I don't deserve you," he said, his voice rough.
