ELEVEN #2
For a moment she was frozen in place. Then she reached up and gave his cheek a light pat that made him think of a kindly aunt patting a child on the head.
“Cute. But we have work to do, special operator.” She ducked under his arm and continued down the tunnel.
He stood there for a second, watching her go, a ridiculous grin breaking over his face.
She hadn’t said yes to his lurid suggestion.
She hadn’t said no either.
In three long strides, he caught up and matched her pace, still fighting that ridiculous grin.
A trip to the post office had no business feeling this damn good.
* * * * *
Caryssa stole a peek at Reid from under her lashes.
He sat in the driver’s seat, hands loose on the wheel, his forearms corded with muscles that hadn’t been there years go.
Every time he adjusted his grip, the tendons flexed, and she couldn’t stop staring at his fingers, long and sure against the black leather.
Her stomach quivered at the memory of exactly how those same fingers had felt inside her the night before, how thoroughly they’d undone her.
But she didn’t know this version of Reid. The man she remembered would never have argued a direct order from his commanding officer.
And somehow, that wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to her this week.
She turned this over in her head, quiet as she watched the snowy branches of the trees blur past the window. Still, she couldn’t make sense of the man beside her.
“What’s on your mind, Ryss?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
She wasn’t surprised that he’d read her. He used to know her better than anyone alive—every shift in her mood and every thought before it was fully formed in her head.
Maybe he still did.
That thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
She shook herself and focused on his question. “It’s interesting that you went against your CO.”
“It’s not like they’re going to fire me.
” He sounded almost amused. “Sierra’s the top of the top.
There’s nowhere left to go. Being Blackout means a different set of rules apply.
Yes, we have to follow commands, but we have little to lose.
We’re already dead, Ryss. There’s no demotion.
We’re the top of the food chain out here. ”
The casual way he stated it struck harder than he probably meant it to, and she let it settle, feeling uneasy.
They drove in silence after that, but not an uncomfortable one.
More like two people circling a pit that neither of them were willing to jump into.
She saw him stealing glances at her more than once, and she caught herself doing the same.
All the while she wondered whether them meeting the way they did—being together again—was fate or just an ugly coincidence.
She didn’t know whether the universe had really used an investigation into a crooked supply chain to drop her back into the life of a man she’d loved and believed long gone, or whether she was simply desperate to find meaning in all of this.
They drove out of the mountains, past a quaint town that looked pretty sleepy, and after a long time, into the city. The post office occupied the end unit of an aging strip mall, its faded blue sign wedged between a laundromat and an insurance office.
As they exited the vehicle, she tracked her surroundings, but Reid really went on high alert. His easy strides belied the tension locked in his muscles and the way he swung his head as though on the scent trail of danger.
They found the box without trouble, and the key slid home clean. Inside was a stack of junk mail and a yellow slip for a package too large for the box.
As she stared down at the slip, her heart began to hammer.
She carried the slip to the counter and handed it to the clerk. The woman disappeared into the back and returned with a box wrapped in enough FRAGILE stickers to count as wrapping paper.
Caryssa took the box and thanked her. With Reid at her side, she carried the box back to the SUV, trying to determine its contents by the weight in her arms.
She set the box on the back seat and pulled out her phone. She snapped a photo of the return address, but a search only brought up a pin on the map.
Reid’s body heat washed over her side as he stepped close. “Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded and they climbed back into the vehicle. As he drove, she sent a text to one of her contacts at the Bureau.
“You checking the return address?” Reid’s gaze was fixed on the traffic.
“Yeah. I asked them to run the address.”
Her contact came back fast and she read the message out loud.
“Vacant lot. Nothing there. No business or residence. Just an empty parcel of land registered to one of your shell corps.”
Beside her, Reid went rigid.
He pulled over hard, jerking the SUV off the road without warning. Tires crunched over gravel at the shoulder. Before she processed what was even happening, they were sitting in a vacant parking lot and Reid whipped open the back door.
She twisted in her seat to see him snatching up the package in one hand and grabbing a ballistic shield with the other.
“What are you—”
“Get out. Now.” His voice dropped, flat and lethal.
She scrambled out and stumbled over to him “What’s going on?”
“I heard something. Metal clicking.”
Her eyes flew wider. “What?”
“I’m positive it’s a bomb.” He set the package down carefully off the shoulder of the road and ran back to the SUV to grab a heavy folded blanket. With a speed and precision that told her this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, he draped the blanket over the package.
“Get back,” he ordered.
Goose bumps prickled over her from head to toe.
“Dammit, Ryss! Listen to me!”
She backed farther away, phone in hand, dialing her office while Reid barked out information to Cannon on his own phone.
“Patch in Rome—”