Page 98 of Kept in the Dark

“That’s my guess,” James shrugs.

“Well, I’d argue we need to keep Felix in our sights. He’s dangerous.”

“Fair enough,” James acquiesces, though his mouth is tight and his brows are drawn together. “Priority is Viktor and his phone. And Kyle.”

They both glance at me for the final word. Realistically, my opinion holds no more weight, but we often default to my decision since I assume the most risk as the man on the ground.

“It is poor form to kill useful, neutral men. James believes he is not directly involved. I would rather avoid violence against Felix for now, and focus on the job we have been paid to do.”

James’s brows shoot up. “Wow. This from the guy who loves violence,” he says, directing it at Wesley. “Usually, it’s not a last resort; it’s a first-round draft pick.”

“Truly baffling,” Wesley agrees dryly.

“Must be going soft in his old age.”

I roll my eyes. “But if it turns out that he is a threat to Nicole, I will not hesitate,” I tack on.

James’s smirk tilts to something altogether more bloodthirsty, and I receive a nod of approval from Wesley.

“And James, perhaps you should come down to spar with me if you truly think I am becoming soft, and I will show you that you are wrong,” I level the challenge at my sniper.

He laughs in his easy way. “I’ll hand you your own ass some other day, when I’m not covering it.”

I roll my eyes at his needling. Even if it were true that he could beat me as easily as he implies, it would be a testament to my own abilities as much as his—he has learned much more about hand-to-hand combat under my tutelage than from the US Army.

“You know, I’ve been charting points scored while sparring. Care to see just how many times you’ve handed Dimitri his arse in the past six months?” Wesley asks lightly, turning his screen slightly to display a graphic of a circle with two distinct colors.

“I assume it is the very small blue wedge in the much larger red circle,” I point to the screen, shamelessly taking immense satisfaction from the visual representation of my skills.

“You made a fuckin’ pie chart? Why am I not surprised?” James shakes his head, a small smile at the corners of his lips. “Where’s our sparring pie chart, you fuckin’ nerd? I’ve gotta be the bigger slice in that one.”

Wesley lifts one shoulder. “By a margin smaller than your ego, that’s for sure.”

I laugh, and the two of them turn around as if they had coordinated the movement in advance, gaping at me. I look between the two of them, but they just stare. “What?” I ask, scowling. “It was clever.”

They exchange a look. James snorts, and Wesley shakes his head and reaches for his mouse.

“I got the joke,” I say, still baffled by their reaction. “Normally, people enjoy it when you understand the things they say to be funny,da?”

“Yeah. And you laughed at it. You never laugh.”

I scoff and push off the desk. “You are both ridiculous. I will finish what I started with Nicole, then return here so we can discuss the plan.”

“Have you ever heard him laugh?” Wesley asks James, his question following me as I leave the room. I cannot tell if it is another joke, so I ignore it.

If this is what comes of showing Wesley that I understand his humor, I will save my laughter for someone who does not make me feel ridiculous for it. Like Nicole.

30

Nicole

My dreams were once red with blood

The harsh midday sun hitting my eyelids wakes me, but it’s not an abrupt shift from sleep to awareness. I’m gently roused with the growing awareness that Dimitri and I are naked and tangled in each other—ankles stacked, his stomach expanding slowly behind me, his breath warm and even against the back of my neck, blowing at a piece of hair and making it tickle against my cheek.

I’m trying to adapt to his weird sleeping schedule because I love him like this, filling the space behind me. Even though his hand is on my belly, I’m not even self-conscious about it anymore—

That hand is moving. He’s not as asleep as I thought.