Page 17 of Faded Rhythm

King

We’ve been poring over documents for a couple of hours now.

Some are digital, but most are scanned so sloppily, it’s a wonder we can make out the numbers at all.

But the trail is taking shape. It’s clear that Redd wasn’t happy with the label before he died.

And unhappy artists don’t generally stay quiet, especially ones with big names like his.

I lean back in the chair and rub my eyes. “What was he like?” I ask Sable, who’s lounging on the edge of the bed.

“Redd?” She smiles, her eyes looking off into the distance.

Her voice sounds lighter, like the question pulled her out of the darkness and dropped her in the sunshine.

“Redd was such a good guy. You don’t usually think that when it comes to rappers, but Redd was different.

He was real involved in the community. Food drives, toy drives…

” she trails off, smiling again. “He funded a tutoring program at his old elementary school in Decatur. He put some of the kids from his old neighborhood through college. Quietly, too. No fanfare.”

I study her face while she talks. The warmth in her eyes. The slight tilt of her head. There’s history there. Real affection.

“He was always so sweet to me,” she finishes. “I was fifteen when he got killed. I was devastated.”

“I’m sorry.” I let an appropriate amount of time pass before I get back to business. “He doesn’t sound like somebody who’d be beefing with somebody enough to get murdered.”

“He wasn’t,” she says, shaking her head. “I was shocked. But the beef made a lot of money. For the artists and the labels.”

And just like that, my attention sharpens to a point. “Money,” I mumble. “Always follow the money.”

Sable nods. “My daddy used to say that, too. But I still don’t know what any of this has to do with Brett. Or me.”

I check the time on my laptop. “It’s late,” I say. “You can go to bed if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says quickly. “I wanna figure this out. The sooner we do, the sooner my girls can go home.”

She looks at me with that fierce maternal energy I’ve come to recognize…soft but unrelenting.

“You can sleep in the bed,” she says casually. “If you want.”

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good.”

“You can sleep on the other end. I don’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about that,” I say. “You sleep naked. That’s too tempting.”

Her mouth quirks into a grin. “So you admit it.”

I blow out a sigh. “Yes,” I say, because lying would be pointless. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy as hell. If I wasn’t attracted to you, I’d be checking my own pulse for signs of life.”

Her expression shifts from playful to curious.

“Then why so rigid?”

“Because I’m working,” I say firmly. “My job right now is keeping you alive. I can’t do that if I’m compromised.”

“Compromised,” she repeats. “What does that even mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I turn back to my screen. “Do you know how to get in contact with The Texican?”

She’s quiet for a minute before she nods.

“Good. First thing in the morning.”

She sighs, then asks, “Are you hungry?”

There’s that thing again. That energy. But it’s pointed at me this time.

“I’m good,” I say. “No appetite.”

What I don’t say is that it’s because of her . I feel strange around her. There’s a low, steady buzz under my skin. Adrenaline, maybe, or anticipation. It’s hard to pin it down. My jobs are always cold and efficient. But this is something else. Something messier. Something that pulls.

She picks up her phone and calls her sister to check in. I stare at my screen as she talks, the words and letters blurring together.

“No word from Brett,” she tells me. “That’s a relief. For now.”

I don’t answer. I don’t turn around. I don’t move until I hear the shower running.

Then I call AJ.

“I’m not compromised,” I say by way of greeting.

He bellows out a laugh. “You’re already gone, bruh. I knew it.”

“I’ma let you gloat for now, but if shit gets hairy, I need to know you got my back.”

“Always,” he says without hesitation. “We been in them trenches together. How could I not?”

How, indeed.

As the line goes dead, memories flood my mind. I still feel the heat from the sun beating down on us in the village. We were searching for a weapons cache that intelligence said would be tucked inside a certain compound.

AJ saved my life when that kid ran out with wires trailing from his vest. The world blew up around us as he tackled me into the dirt that day.

Another time, nighttime in Fallujah. A night op gone bad. We had bad intel, then hit the wrong building. We were stuck in a pit with no exit and enemy soldiers bearing down. I cracked a glow stick with my teeth and tossed it like bait. When they veered off to investigate, we killed them all.

But that other day…the woman…

I force my eyes open. The room is still quiet, but I feel the old tension winding up my spine again. AJ knows me—too well. He saw this coming a mile away.

Fuck.

I shake my head and glance toward the closed bathroom door. There’s a faint sound above the running water. It’s melodic and pretty.

It’s her.

Humming something.

I cock my head like an animal, straining to hear. I can’t make out the melody, but I don’t really need to. The water is off now. A few curls of steam escape through the crack at the bottom of the door.

I’ve been in firefights, crawled through sewage tunnels, been ambushed, betrayed, and buried men I respected. But this…this woman, her life, her problems, her ability to pull me in…it has me off balance.

She’s wearing a blue silk robe when she comes out. Her hair is tied in a blue and gold scarf. The fabric clings to her body, catching the light as she moves. Her nipples strain against it, and I make myself look away before my body reacts.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna share the bed?” she asks again.

I’m about to decline again when I shift in the chair. This bitch is hard as fuck after two hours of sitting. I don’t wanna imagine the pain after four or five hours of sleep—that’s if I could even doze off in this shit.

“I’ll do it if you keep that robe on.”

She smirks. “Okay.”

She climbs in first. I type a few notes on my laptop before shutting it down. I stand, stretch, and turn the light off, leaving the sconce by the door on in case she needs to get up in the middle of the night.

It’s that slight illumination that provides the big reveal—when I pull the covers back, the fucking robe is still on, but it’s wide open.

Jesus.

I grit my teeth, look away, and slide in under the sheets, staying as far away from her as possible. But even with a little distance, I feel her body heat. And her scent is everywhere. Caramel, or maybe honey. My body is tense. I’m wound up tight.

I’m not getting to sleep for a while.

I close my eyes anyway. She moves beside me in slow, deliberate shifts. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The shape of her naked body is stamped on the back of my eyelids.

It feels like torture.

Then she whispers, “Are you asleep?”

I swallow hard. “No.”

She breathes deep and blows it out slowly. “King…will you hold me?”

My body goes rigid. “No.”

She turns toward me in the dark. “When’s the last time somebody held you?”

I stay silent.

Softer now, she says, “We both need it. It’s not about sex. Just…two people who are alone and scared.”

“I ain’t scared,” I mutter. “I don’t get scared.”

She goes quiet, and it eats at me.

Because the truth is, I am scared. Of her. I’m fucking compromised. Again.

The scariest part is that I’m starting not to care. I’m starting to want whatever this is more than I wanna complete my mission, all while knowing if I fail at it, she won’t be around for me.

She sits up suddenly.

“It’s hot,” she says as she removes her robe.

I stare at the ceiling as she settles back in her spot. I’m itching to reach out, to push my arm across the small expanse between us and touch her. Be touched by her. Just to know how it feels. I need it. She needs it.

“I’m feeling…uneasy,” she says softly. “I keep trying to pretend this isn’t happening, but it comes back to me every time.”

Seconds tick by. Maybe minutes. I shake my head in the darkness, frustrated with myself. Frustrated with her. Wishing I never took this fucking job.

And then I reach out.

My hand finds her arm, which is warm and soft beneath my fingertips.

She scoots closer.

I scoot closer.

And then our bodies meet under the sheets. She wraps her arms around my neck. I wrap mine around her waist.

For a moment, everything stills.

This is something I haven’t felt in years. It feels so good, my eyes close again. My breathing deepens. She’s in my arms, and she’s real. Her touch grounds me like nothing else ever has.

This is stronger than arousal. I’m hard, but I barely notice. This is…human connection. It’s the feeling of existing and being seen. I don’t often get the chance to feel that.

She caresses the back of my head with her fingers. I tighten my grip on her waist. We inhale at the same time. It almost feels like we’re breathing for each other.

Her breath fans across my neck, where she’s tucked her head. Her heart beats against my chest. This space we’re in, it’s comfortable. Peaceful. Time doesn’t exist here.

It’s a powerful feeling.

I know she feels how hard I am, but she also seems to know that’s not what we’re doing tonight. Neither one of us wants to move and lose this moment.

She was right.

We both needed this.

We stay here. Once I feel her drift off, I relieve myself from my duty. I close my eyes and drift off, falling into a sleep more peaceful than I’ve had in as long as I can remember.