4. Kai
KAI
T he morning air is cold and crisp, a welcome slap of reality. I patrol the perimeter of the safe house, checking the infrared sensors and ensuring the reinforced doors are still secure. Occupational habit, I tell myself, trying to focus on the work, on the threat.
But the threat feels distant, secondary.
I didn’t sleep last night. Not a single minute.
My mind has been replaying the scene in the bathroom, Annika's small, warm hands tending to my busted knuckles.
The way she fussed over me, her brow furrowed in genuine concern, was wholly unfamiliar.
I'm used to fear, respect, or contempt. Not care.
And her sunshine personality, the rapid-fire teasing, the easy smile…
I would have dismissed it as weakness or annoyance from anyone else.
But coming from my little flower? I find I want every sweet word, every flash of that smile, every moment of her loving, tender care. She's a sharp ray of light cutting through the perpetual gloom of my existence. It's unsettling, but more than that, it’s all-consuming.
I had a moment of doubt last night, a knee-jerk reaction to someone treating me with such… care. No, more than that. Annika’s touches were intimate, not necessarily sexual, but she made me feel so damn vulnerable. I’m not used to that feeling, and I’m not sure what to think about it.
Instead of getting further lost in my own head, I pull my encrypted satellite phone from my pocket and dial the one number that is burned into my memory. Easton answers on the first ring.
“Report,” he says, his voice flat. He’s already running a thousand scenarios in his head. That’s what makes him a genius… and borderline unhinged.
“Breach attempt last night. Twelve-oh-three a.m. One confirmed target. Neutralized and disposed of,” I report, keeping my voice low and devoid of emotion, though the memory of Annika’s terror still claws at my gut.
A small static hiss fills the line, indicating he’s switched to speaker. Miller’s in the room.
“The Syndicate moves fast,” Easton observes, his tone detached. “Was he wearing gloves? Did you find any identifying markers on the body? Any chance he survived long enough to use a dead man’s switch?”
“Clean kill. No switch. Gloves, yes. The body is in the incinerator now. The only thing of value was the phone. I have it locked down. There’s a list, three names after Annika’s,” I reply. I don’t mention the burst of rage that fueled the clean kill .
“I saw the alert from the perimeter cameras, Kai. A two-second lapse in coverage before the feed went dark,” Miller’s sharp voice cuts in. He is Aegis’s tech-genius brute, and nothing escapes him. “Did you catch his face on the backup?”
“I did. I’m transmitting the footage now.” I send the file, which contains a brief, grainy shot of the hitman's face before I put him down.
A moment of silence stretches across the secure line.
“Miller, scrub the safe house footage. Cross-reference the face with every known operative in our database, every known Syndicate member, and any government asset we’ve tangled with.
I want a name and a source by sunset,” Easton instructs, all cold, efficient calculation.
“Kai, maintain lockdown. Double the sensors on the west side. We’ve messed up once with Annika’s location. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Understood,” I growl.
“Good. Stay safe, Kai. And keep her safe. She’s too high value to lose,” Easton says, and then the line clicks dead. High value . He means she’s valuable to the mission. But to me, she’s everything.
I wipe a hand down my face and sigh deeply before checking the last sensor near the back treeline. Clear. I turn back toward the cabin, trying to think of any excuse to stay out here a little longer, when I spot her.
Annika . She's standing just outside the front door, wrapped in a blanket like a small, misplaced gnome.
A roar of primal frustration rips through my chest. What the fuck? Does she have a death wish?
I cover the ground between us in three long strides, my voice low and dangerous, a coiled spring ready to snap. "What the hell are you doing out here? Get back inside. Now."
She doesn't flinch, just looks up at me with those wide, innocent hazel eyes. "Well, you didn't exactly give me a choice, Kai. You've been gone for over an hour. I'm bored."
My irritation at her lack of self-preservation mounts. She speaks of boredom like we’re waiting for a bus, not hiding from a murderous syndicate. I can't be gentle with her. I can't afford to be soft.
"Boredom is better than a bullet, Annika. You know the rules. This isn't a game."
She sighs, a fragile, defeated sound, and the fight drains out of her. I watch her shoulders slump, and the defeated shadow in her eyes is heartbreaking. She's not being difficult; she’s just being her.
"I know, I know," she whispers, shuffling her feet. "It's just... this safe house is so bland. All grey and brown. I just... I miss the flowers. I needed some color in my life."
The words hit me with unexpected force. Color . She sees the world in color, and I see it in shades of gray and red. She brings color to my life, too.
"You still need to go inside, little flower," I insist, my voice still rough, but lacking the edge of pure anger. "I can't risk your safety. Not again."
If anything happened to her, I'd go full scorched earth on anyone and everyone until I had her back in my sights.
I already screwed up once, letting the Syndicate get close enough to snatch her.
I won't forgive myself if I make another mistake.
My job is to keep Annika safe, locked away, untouched.
It's the only thing tethering me to sanity right now.
Her lower lip trembles slightly. She nods, a silent acknowledgment of my authority, and shuffles toward the door. The sight of her defeated posture, her light dimmed by my brute force, twists something painfully in my gut.
I watch her disappear inside, then turn back toward the dense woods. I need to keep checking, keep moving. But my feet betray me, leading me deeper into the trees.
I find a small cluster of wild daisies near a rockbed, their petals a cheerful splash of white and yellow clinging to a patch of moss. Tiny purple flowers are scattered about, I think they’re called forget-me-nots. How appropriate.
What the hell am I doing?
I yank the flowers out by the handful, dirt clinging to the roots, grumbling like a bear woken too early. I’m Kai, the weapon, the muscle, the man who deals in violence and shadows. I don't pick flowers. I don't soothe. I certainly don't care about a woman's need for "color."
Soft. That's what I am. Soft and compromised because of her.
I stride back inside, the makeshift bouquet clutched awkwardly in my huge fist. When I step into the room, Annika is standing by the window, staring out at the woods, her back to me.
"Here." My voice is a flat command, emotionless.
She turns. Her eyes widen at the sight of the dirty, crumpled handful of flowers. A slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, eclipsing the shadows. She doesn't say thank you. Instead, Annika drops the blanket and throws her arms around my neck, pressing herself against my chest.
The impact knocks the breath out of me, and the flowers tumble to the floor.
Her lips find mine in a sweet, tentative, gentle press that asks permission. I grant it instantly, my massive arms closing around her, crushing her against me where she belongs. The kiss deepens, losing its sweetness and turning hungry, desperate.
She fits. Perfectly. Every curve of her body molds against the hard angles of mine.
Her taste is intoxicating; sunshine and something infinitely sweet.
I can't think, I can only feel the need, the raw, undeniable realization that this woman, this moment, is right. The doubts I’ve been wrestling with all morning scatter to the corners of my mind, making way for something more, something real .
I pull her tighter, devouring her mouth, knowing with a terrifying certainty that I will never get enough. “Need to taste you,” I grunt as I lift her soft, curvy body into my arms, cursing to myself that we don’t have a more comfortable place to explore our desires.
“Where are we going?” Annika asks breathlessly. She nuzzles into the side of my neck, placing teasing kisses on my heated flesh.
I spin around, looking for anywhere acceptable to strip her down and lick every inch of her body. Not the military cot. Not the kitchen floor. Not the bathroom.
I growl in frustration, which makes Annika laugh. She points to a rug in front of the electric fireplace, and I lumber toward the spot, eager to dive into everything she has to offer.
Setting my precious cargo down, I quickly spread out a couple of blankets in a basket near the fireplace. She deserves so much better. I vow to make it up to her as soon as the threat is over and I move her into my house for good.
Annika looks at me with wide, lustful eyes, nibbling her bottom lip and twisting her hands in front of her with anticipation. Fuck if that doesn’t make my mouth water and my cock roar to life for the first time in… shit, I can’t even remember. Work used to be my whole life, but now…
My precious, sexy-as-hell woman grips the hem of her shirt, clearly excited for what’s to come.
I don’t know if she’s had much experience, but that doesn’t matter.
In fact, as fucked up as it is, I love the idea of being her first, teaching her how much her gorgeous body can handle before she’s thrown off the cliff into pure ecstasy.
I help her with her shirt, my hands immediately stroking the smooth skin of her torso until I reach her breasts, still covered in a lace bra.
I rub my thumbs over her already hard nipples, making her moan and arch her back.
I deftly unhook her bra and slide it down her arms before bending down and sucking one perky tit into my mouth.