Page 10 of No Words

COLE

A shadow slides between the trees, too deliberate, too careful.

Most people would miss it. I’ve been trained to see the things that don’t want to be seen, and decide in the same breath whether they walk away or get buried.

My blood runs cold. It’s not an animal. Someone’s watching us.

I lean closer, adjusting the contrast. The movement doesn’t repeat, but my instincts never lie.

We have company.

I check the other feeds; nothing yet. But if they’ve found us, they won’t be alone. Alessio doesn’t send scouts without backup close behind.

In the bedroom, Molly still sleeps, her breathing steady through the cabin’s audio system. I allow myself five seconds to watch her, five seconds of weakness, before focusing on what matters: keeping her alive.

I pull on a jacket and slip outside, moving silently across the porch and into the tree line. The morning air is crisp, dawn just breaking through the pines. Perfect conditions to spot intruders; their heat signatures will stand out against the cold forest floor.

I walk for only a minute before I find what I’m looking for: a cigarette butt, still warm, ground into the dirt. Careless. The Borsellini’s usually train their men better.

I scan the area. Disturbed underbrush, a broken branch, all signs of surveillance. Amateur mistakes, but the message is clear: they’ve found us. Question is how.

My connection to Killian’s network should have kept us invisible. Someone’s talking. When I find them, they’re dead.

Once inside, I grab the radio and program a new frequency. The cabin’s security system needs upgrading before our visitors return with friends.

“Rise and shine, counselor,” I call through the bedroom door. “We have work to do.”

Molly emerges minutes later, hair tousled from sleep, wearing the oversized t-shirt I gave her yesterday. Her eyes immediately lock onto the security monitors, reading my tension.

“What happened?” she asks.

“We had a visitor.” I hand her coffee while examining the topographical map spread across the table. “Borsellini’s scout. Just reconnaissance for now, but they’ll be back.”

Fear flashes across her face quickly replaced by determination. Good. Fear keeps you alive, but panic gets you killed.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’m setting up additional cameras and motion sensors. You will need to go through the evacuation plan again.” I outline four escape routes, contingency rendezvous points, emergency signals. She absorbs everything with the quick intelligence that makes her such an effective prosecutor.

“I need to check the blind spots in our perimeter,” I tell her. “You’ll stay here and monitor the feeds. If anything moves, use this.” I hand her the radio, our fingers brushing. The contact sends an inappropriate jolt through my body that I push aside.

“Channel three is secure. Keep it on. I’ll check in every fifteen minutes.” I clip my own radio to my belt. “If I don’t, there’s a Glock taped under the kitchen sink. Use it.”

Her golden-brown eyes widen slightly. “You think it’ll come to that?”

“I prefer to plan for worst-case scenarios.” I check my watch. “Fifteen minutes. Keep the doors locked.”

Outside, I move through the forest, placing motion sensors in a wide perimeter. The work is methodical, demanding focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Molly in the cabin.

My radio at my hip crackles. “Cole?” Her voice sounds controlled, professional.

“I’m almost done,” I respond. “Moving to the other side.”

As I position the final sensor, my radio crackles again, but this time with no words, just the sound of movement, fabric against skin, a soft exhale. She’s forgotten to release the talk button.

I’m about to respond when I realize what I’m hearing: Molly, alone in the cabin, thinking I can’t hear her. The soft catch in her breath, the subtle rhythm. My body responds immediately, blood rushing south.

I should kill the feed. Should give her privacy.

Instead, I listen to every breath, every sound she makes while she thinks she’s alone.

Her quiet gasps filter through, and I can’t help but imagine what she’s doing and how she looks.

Part of me knows this is a violation, but something darker, something I’ve kept controlled for too long, overrides it.

“I can hear you,” I say into the radio, my voice dropping to a register I hardly recognize.

The sounds stop abruptly. Dead silence.

“The talk button is stuck,” I continue. “I can hear everything.”

Her breathing changes, embarrassment, maybe fear. But not disgust. Not rejection.

“Don’t stop,” I command softly. “Touch yourself like I’m watching. Because I am.”

For three heartbeats, nothing. Then a shaky exhale. “I don’t?—“

“You do,” I interrupt. “You want this as much as I do. The danger, the control. It turns you on.”

Another pause, longer this time. Then her voice, barely audible: “Yes.”

“Good girl.” The words come out rough. Something hot spreads through my chest listening to her surrender. “Tell me where your hands are right now.”

Her voice filters through hesitant and breathless. “On my stomach.”

“Lower,” I instruct, scanning the perimeter even as my focus narrows to the radio in my hand. “Are you wet already? Just from knowing I might be listening?”

A soft whimper confirms my suspicion. “Yes.”

“Slide your fingers inside,” I instruct her, my breathing growing heavier. “Slowly. Tell me how it feels.”

“Cole...” The way she says my name, half protest, half plea, makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans.

“Do it,” I command, dropping my voice. “That wasn’t a request, Molly.”

Through my radio comes a sharp intake of breath, then a moan that sends heat coursing through my veins.

“I’m...” she gasps. “I’ve never done this while someone... while someone listened.”

“But you like it,” I state rather than ask. “You like knowing I’m listening to every sound, imagining every movement. That I’m out here, hard as a rock, just from listening to you pleasure yourself.”

Her moan deepens. “Yes... God, yes.”

“Show me how wet you are,” I instruct, walking in the cabin’s direction. “When I get back, I want to see the evidence on your fingers.”

“Cole,” she whispers, voice higher now, trembling with need. “I’m close already.”

“No,” I command sharply. “You don’t come til I’m there. Until I give you permission.”

Her frustrated whimper drives me wild, but I maintain control. “Slow down. Circle your clit, but don’t push yourself over. Just stay on the edge.”

“I can’t...” she protests weakly.

“You can,” I counter. “And you will. Because good girls wait for permission. That’s what you are now.”

Her breathing turns ragged, a symphony of restraint and desire that has me quickening my pace through the forest.

“Please,” she begs, the single word nearly breaking my resolve.

“Soon,” I promise, voice rough with desire. “I’m almost there. Keep yourself close to the edge for me.”

A sharp beep cuts through the radio static. The perimeter alarm sounds, and my body surges with adrenaline.

“Molly, freeze,” I command, voice shifting from desire to deadly serious. “Don’t move.”

Through the radio, I hear her sharp gasp of air. The alarm beeps twice more before falling silent. I scan the forest, weapon drawn. Movement to the east. Then I see it. A massive buck steps into the clearing, pauses, then bounds away into the forest. False alarm. But my heart still hammers.

“Cole?” Her voice breathless and shaking.

“Just a deer,” I report, but another stark reminder that we’re being hunted.

I’m moving before conscious thought kicks in, jogging toward the cabin. The radio crackles.

“I’m still—” she starts.

“I know exactly what you are,” I cut her off, my voice promising consequences. “And that’s the problem.”

Outside the cabin, the windows reveal her shadow moving in the bedroom, and the sight nearly undoes me despite the interruption. My radio vibrates with an incoming transmission, a different frequency. I switch channels reluctantly.

“Bennett.” My voice betrays nothing of what was happening seconds ago.

Static crackles on a different channel. “Package located.” Jake’s voice cuts through the static, one of Killian’s people. “ETA tomorrow. Extraction ready?”

“Negative. Location compromised. Need alternative.”

“Stand by for coordinates. Backup team on alert.”

“Understood.” I switch back to Molly’s channel, but the moment has passed. The security scare killed the mood, reminding us both why we’re here. I need to focus on keeping her alive, not indulging desires that could distract us both.

When I reenter the cabin, she’s waiting in the living room, composed but flushed. Her eyes meet mine with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance. Her fingers glisten slightly in the low light, and the sight sends a fresh surge of heat through me.

“We need to talk about security,” I say, all business now, though my body screams for completion. “Borsellini’s men will be back, with reinforcements.”

She nods, following my lead in pretending nothing happened. But the tension between us has shifted, becoming something electric. The scent of arousal lingers in the air, subtle but unmistakable to someone trained to notice details.

“Show me,” I say quietly, abandoning the pretense. She knows exactly what I mean.

After a moment’s hesitation, she extends her hand, fingers still damp from her interrupted pleasure. I take her wrist gently, bringing her fingers to my lips. The taste of her explodes across my tongue as I take two fingers into my mouth, watching her pupils dilate at the intimate gesture.

“Next time,” I promise, releasing her hand, “it will be my tongue instead of my fingers.”

Her breath catches audibly, and for a moment I consider taking her right here, right now. But the rational part of my brain, the part that keeps us both alive, reasserts control.