12. Mira
twelve
Mira
" S top staring at my ass."
"I'm not—I wasn't—" Jax's voice cracks as I bend to check the blade against my thigh. Fourth adjustment in two minutes. Can't get it right because my hands won't stop shaking.
It's been four days since we almost died on the highway. Four days of living in the safehouse, pretending we can exist in the same space without combusting. Four days of him finding excuses to brush past me in hallways.
The team's been tiptoeing around us—Cole watching every interaction like he's waiting for an explosion, Asher making dry comments about "operational complications," Remy just shaking his head whenever we're in the same room.
But they've stopped questioning my presence. Stopped treating me like a temporary problem to solve.
"Position confirmed," Asher's voice comes through comms. "Target approaching in three minutes."
Jax is still staring. I can feel his gaze like hands on my skin, tracking the line of my dress where it clings to still-damp skin. Because I've been wet for four fucking days.
"Look, I know you don't need—I mean, obviously you're capable of—shit." He runs a hand through his hair, starts again.
His nervous energy makes me want to bite him. Sink my teeth into that spot where his neck meets his shoulder, taste all that anxious need.
"You don't have to do this alone."
His blue-green eyes sweep over me like he's memorizing every detail, every potential threat, hands fidgeting with his earpiece, checking his weapon twice.
"I've handled dangerous contacts for seven years. I don't need a babysitter with abandonment issues and a hero complex."
His jaw ticks. That muscle that jumps when I hit too close to truth.
"Yeah, well—" His voice catches slightly. "You didn't have someone who gives a damn about whether you come home alive before."
The words slam into my chest. Because he means it. This man who barely knows the real me already cares more about my survival than I do.
Dangerous territory, Mira.
"Your concern is noted, Nitro, but I was killing people before you learned to parallel park."
I brush past him toward the elevator, but his hand catches my wrist. Gentle but desperate, the contact sends warmth up my arm.
When did his touch become my anchor?
"Mira."
Just my name, but the way he says it—broken, worried—makes something flutter in my chest.
I turn back, and the raw worry in his expression nearly undoes me. When did someone last look at me like losing me would destroy them?
Never.
"Echo confirms target vehicle arriving in two minutes. Time to move." Asher's voice cuts through the moment, reality intruding.
"I know you can handle yourself." Jax steps closer until warmth radiates between us. "But humor me, okay? Check in every fifteen minutes. Signal if anything feels wrong."
He's not backing down. Stubborn, protective bastard.
"Fine. Fifteen-minute check-ins."
The relief that floods his face is almost worth admitting I like his possessive instincts.
Almost.
"Promise."
"I promise."
The elevator dings, doors sliding open.
In the mirrored walls, I see what four days of living with him has done to me. Pupils dilated. Heartbeat visible at my throat. The dress clings to skin that's been tingling since the moment he decided I was worth protecting.
"Go get him, killer."
His smile carries pride and fear in equal measure. Like he believes in my skills but hates watching me walk into danger.
Stepping into the elevator, I catch my reflection in the polished metal. Black dress, perfect makeup, smile that could charm or kill.
But underneath the mirror surface, I see something new. Something that wasn't there before Jax looked at me like I mattered.
Hope.
The most dangerous weapon of all.
For the first time in years, I actually want to come home alive.
Because someone will be waiting.
The private dining room at Mastro's drips wealth and danger in equal measure. Sasha Kozlov studies me from across the table like I'm a specimen under glass.
"Little star, you've grown into quite the beautiful weapon since I last saw you."
He hasn't changed much in five years. Silver hair perfectly styled, expensive suit that screams dirty money, and those pale blue eyes that miss nothing. The kind of man who orders wine by vintage and people killed by Tuesday.
"You look well, Sasha. Prison apparently agreed with you."
His laugh has razor edges.
"Two years in minimum security hardly counts as hardship. Besides, it gave me time to think. To plan."
Thinking about Jax's protective presence listening in makes my heart race. He's probably memorizing every exit, every potential threat. The way he monitors me feels intensely protective, and my body responds to his attention more than it should.
Focus, Mira. This man could have answers about Alexei.
"You said you had information about Petrov's American operations."
"Always direct. I respect that quality."
Sasha slides a manila envelope across the table. Inside, photographs show Alexei at various locations across Los Angeles. Recent ones.
He's here. In the same city.
"Why are you helping me, Sasha? Information like this doesn't come free in our world."
His smile turns calculated.
"Let's say certain interested parties want Alexei Petrov dealt with permanently."
The hairs on my neck rise. This feels orchestrated. Too convenient.
"Interested parties with enough power to arrange this meeting and enough resources to track Petrov's movements."
"Smart girl. Your parents taught you well before they died."
Don't react. Don't give him the satisfaction.
But my fingers tighten around my wine glass. Through the earpiece, I hear Jax's sharp intake of breath. He's monitoring my vitals and knows something's wrong.
The knowledge that someone cares enough to watch for my reactions sends fire spiraling through me. For thirteen years, I've walked into dangerous meetings alone. Now every gesture matters to someone other than myself.
"Who do you work for now, Sasha?"
"People who understand that some predators need to be removed from the game."
He leans back, swirling his wine.
"Petrov has been tracking you, little star. He knows how you survived. Knows you've been hunting his associates."
My blood turns to ice.
"For how long?"
"Years. He finds your... evolution fascinating. The little swan who became a killer."
I cross my legs under the table. The friction makes me bite my lip. Through the earpiece, Jax's breathing changes—he knows something's wrong. Not with the mission. With me.
I'm the hunted now, not the hunter.
"Vitals spiking," Jax's voice comes through the earpiece. "Talk to me - what's happening in there?"
"There's something else."
Sasha produces another photograph. Alexei standing outside a warehouse I recognize.
"He's using the racing circuits for transport. Moving product through Lynch's network."
Jax's world. He's pulling Jax's world into this.
My blood freezes. But between my legs, the ache intensifies. Because danger makes me think of Jax. Everything makes me think of Jax.
Rage and protectiveness war in my chest. Bad enough that Alexei wants to destroy me. But threatening Jax?
That's where his mistake becomes fatal.
"The warehouse address is on the back. He'll be there tomorrow night."
I slip the photos into my clutch, mind already calculating angles of approach.
"What's the price, Sasha?"
His smile is cool and businesslike.
"The intelligence is solid. What happens next is your decision."
All those missions. All those kills. He knew exactly where I was.
"You're lying."
My voice sounds steady, but my hands want to shake. I keep them flat on the table, calm intact.
"Am I? Think about it, little star. Your first contract after leaving Prague… who recommended you to that arms dealer in Berlin?"
No. He couldn't have.
"A mutual friend put in a good word. Said you had potential for discrete work."
The room spins slightly. My entire career, built on recommendations that led me exactly where someone wanted me to go.
"Alexei has been cultivating your reputation. Guiding your targets toward his competitors and enemies."
I've been his weapon all along.
"He knows you killed Mikhail. He's been waiting seven years for his 'creation' to come home."
Never. I'd die first.
But even thinking it, cold certainty fills me Alexei was always brilliant at reading people, finding their weaknesses.
"What's his endgame?"
"Racing circuits, entertainment venues, high-end trafficking networks. He's built an empire while waiting for you."
Sasha leans forward, enjoying watching me piece together the scope of it all. "Every venue you've investigated, every contact you've eliminated, you've been clearing his path to total market control."
I've been helping him win.
"Your heart rate just jumped again," Jax's voice comes through the comm, controlled but concerned. "Whatever he just told you has you rattled."
At least he's real. At least his feelings aren't manufactured.
The thought brings unexpected comfort. In a world where everything I thought I controlled was actually controlled by someone else, Jax's genuine concern feels like the only truth left.
"So, this isn't about killing him. He's prepared for psychological warfare."
"Smart girl. You're finally seeing the bigger picture."
Sasha's expression remains neutral. "He's studied every move you've made, every relationship you've formed. He knows exactly how to break you down."
Every relationship. Including this one.
The protective fury in Jax's eyes when he looks at me, the way he gets physically tense when I'm in danger. That's real. That's mine.
But he can only watch from outside. He can't know how deep this goes.
"There's one more thing you need to understand, little star."
Sasha's voice drops to barely above a whisper, forcing me to lean forward.
"Alexei's people are already watching your team. He knows about your protective teammate and his instincts."
"How long have we been under surveillance?"