Chapter Seventeen Leone #2
Aurelio watches our exchange with an unreadable expression.
"We'll discuss the New York operation later.
For now, I want everything we have on Gio.
Old files, old photographs, anyone who knew him who's still alive.
If he's out there, we're going to find him.
" He looks at Alexandra. "Good work, Miss Clark.
You've given us more in three weeks than our intelligence team found in three years. "
She stands. "I’m just getting started."
She walks out of the war room without looking back. I watch her go, watch the door close behind her, and feel Aurelio's eyes on me.
"She's impressive," he says.
"She is."
"She's also going to push until she gets what she wants. The New York operation, the field work, all of it. She's not the type to sit behind a desk while others take risks."
"I know."
"Can you control her?"
I almost laugh. "No. But I can protect her."
Aurelio nods slowly. "See that you do. She may be the most valuable asset we have right now. If Gio is really behind this, she's the one who's going to find him." He pauses. "And Leone? Keep her safe."
"With my life."
He dismisses us with a wave. Claudio and I file out, and I head for the corridor that leads to our quarters.
I find her halfway there.
She's standing by a window, looking out at nothing, arms crossed over her chest. When she hears my footsteps, she turns.
"Don't say no like that in front of them," she says. "If you have concerns, we discuss them privately. Not in the middle of a strategy meeting."
"You're not going to New York."
"That's not your decision to make."
"The hell it isn't." I close the distance between us, backing her against the wall beside the window.
She doesn't flinch. Doesn't retreat. tilts her chin up and meets my eyes with that defiant stare I've come to know as well as my own reflection.
"A few days ago, you were being held in a Castillo safehouse because someone wanted to stop you from doing exactly what you did in that room.
You think Apex Meridian isn't watching? You think they don't know you're the one dismantling their network? "
"I think hiding in this compound while other people take the risks is cowardly."
"I think keeping you alive is strategic."
"Bullshit." She pokes my chest with one finger. "You're not worried about strategy. You're worried about me. And I appreciate that, I do, but you don't get to make my decisions for me. Not in there. Not anywhere."
I grab her wrist. Hold it against my chest, her palm flat over my heart.
"You were brilliant in there," I say, and my voice has dropped, gone rough. "Watching you work, watching you command that room, watching those men realize they were looking at someone smarter than all of them combined." I lean closer. "It was the most attractive thing I've ever seen."
Her breath catches. "Don't try to distract me."
"I'm not distracting you. I'm telling you the truth." My free hand finds her hip, pulls her closer. "You were magnificent. And I wanted to clear that table and take you right there in front of all of them."
"Leone, please take me seriously."
"I still want that." I press my forehead to hers. "But I also want you alive. I want you here. I want to wake up tomorrow and the day after that and every day for the rest of my life with you beside me. And if that means fighting you on every stupid risk you want to take, I'll do it. Gladly."
Her hand is still pressed to my chest, and I can feel her pulse in her wrist, rapid and unsteady. She hasn’t said anything for a full minute, but I give her the space to think of some witty come-back.
"You're infuriating," she says.
"I know."
"And overprotective."
"I know that too."
"And I love you anyway."
"I'm counting on it."
I pin her against the wall and kiss her like I've been wanting to since she stood up in that war room and took command.
Her hands find my shirt, fist in the fabric, pull me closer.
Her leg hooks around my calf. Her mouth opens under mine, and I taste coffee and defiance and everything I've ever wanted.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"We're not done with this conversation," she says.
"I know."
"I'm going to keep pushing."
"I know that too."
"Good." She smooths my shirt where she's wrinkled it. "Then we understand each other."
I step back, giving her room, even though every instinct screams to press her harder against that wall and finish what we started.
"Dinner," I say. "Then we talk about New York. Properly. In private."
"Is that an order?"
"It's a request."
She considers me. Then she nods.
"Fine. Dinner. Talking." She pushes off the wall and starts down the corridor, then pauses and looks back over her shoulder. "But after that, I expect you to make good on that table comment."
She walks away before I can respond.
I stand in the corridor, watching her go. Goddamn this woman has me wrapped around her finger like a puppy. Not desire, though there's plenty of that. This runs to my very core. The existence of who I am.
She's going to drive me insane.
She's going to get herself killed.
She's going to save us all.
And God help me, I'm going to follow her wherever she goes.