Page 19 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

thirteen

Asher

I sit motionless on the leather couch, back straight, every muscle coiled with tension. My service pistol rests on the coffee table within easy reach. Three hours and twenty-four minutes since I settled Vanessa in my bedroom.

Three hours and twenty-four minutes of listening to every sound from behind that door.

The rustle of sheets at 12:42. A soft sigh at 1:17. Mattress springs adjusting at 2:03 when she rolled over.

I check my watch again: 3:17 AM.

My senses have narrowed to a laser focus on that bedroom door. In Afghanistan, I once maintained a sniper position for forty-three hours without sleep. This vigil feels infinitely more demanding.

The soft pad of bare feet against hardwood breaks the silence. My hand twitches toward my weapon before I register that the footsteps are too light for an intruder. The bathroom door clicks shut. Water runs.

A thud followed by a muffled, "Shit."

Every muscle in my body tenses. My hand is on the door handle before I realize I've moved. I force myself to step back, jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack.

She stubbed her toe. She's not being attacked. Stand down.

I exhale slowly, counting backward from ten. This reaction isn't protocol. This isn't me. I've guarded high-value targets before without this kind of response to their every movement.

The bathroom door opens. Her footsteps pause. She's standing in the bedroom, perhaps wondering if I heard her. I remain perfectly still, eyes fixed on the wall opposite me.

She returns to the bed and I hear the mattress adjust.

My shoulders drop a fraction of an inch.

Something about her presence in my space feels like an invasion, not of security, but of the careful isolation I've constructed. A pink toothbrush now sits beside mine in the bathroom. The faint coconut scent lingering in the air. Evidence of another human existing within my controlled environment.

I think about the sensation of her body pressed against mine as we rode the motorcycle. The way she clung to my back, face pressed between my shoulder blades. How her body trembled after the attack, not with fear, but with adrenaline.

I tap Kade's contact and activate the secure video connection, keeping the volume low. The screen illuminates with soft blue light, casting angular shadows across the living room. I position myself against the blank wall, habit causing me to reveal as little of my personal space as possible.

Kade's face appears, hair disheveled, eyes heavy with interrupted sleep. The lighting suggests he's in his bedroom.

"This better be important, Frost." His voice carries the gravel of someone recently awakened.

"I have Echo. We're secure." My voice remains controlled, giving nothing away beyond the essential facts.

Kade's expression transforms, sleep vanishing as his eyes sharpen with sudden focus. He studies the background behind me, brows drawing together.

"You're at your place?"

Before I can respond, a female voice sounds from Kade's end of the call.

"Who's calling at this hour?"

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Alina Bennett, Kade's journalist girlfriend. And the newest addition to our team.

"Sorry for the disruption, Hellcat." My words are directed past Kade, acknowledging her presence.

Alina's face appears beside Kade's on the screen. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her clear green eyes study me with the penetrating gaze that's made her one of the most respected investigative journalists in the country.

"Did you finally bring a woman home, Frost?"

The question lands like a tactical strike, precise and devastating. My face remains impassive, but something in my chest constricts.

"Asset protection protocol." I keep my voice flat. "Her location was compromised."

Alina's eyebrow raises slightly. "Of course. Just protection."

Kade shifts slightly, his arm moving around Alina's shoulders. "Where's your asset now?"

"Secure. My bedroom." The words feel strange leaving my mouth.

A soft thud echoes from down the hallway, barely perceptible, but my head snaps toward the sound before I can stop the reaction. My entire body tenses, ears straining to categorize the noise.

When I turn back to the screen, Kade's expression has changed. Something knowing flickers in his eyes.

"I'll update you if anything changes." My finger already hovers over the disconnect button.

"Keep us posted," Kade replies, his eyes saying more than his words.

Alina leans forward. "And Frost? Don't let that protective instinct cloud your judgment."

I cut the connection without responding. The screen goes black.

My mind is already shifting to the next consideration as the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood draws my attention. Vanessa emerges from the hallway, the hem of my shirt falling almost to her knees, leaving her legs bare. My throat tightens.

I turn abruptly, moving to the kitchen and focusing on the coffee machine with laser precision. Measuring grounds to the exact gram. Water temperature: 200 degrees Fahrenheit. Brew time: 4 minutes.

Vanessa watches silently as I work, her presence prickling along my skin. She approaches, arm reaching past me to adjust the settings. Her skin brushes mine. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

"Mind if I..." Her fingers dance over the controls, disrupting my carefully calibrated process.

"Too bitter," she explains, a small smile playing at her lips.

I grit my teeth, torn between correcting her and an unfamiliar urge to let her continue. She moves to the cabinets, opening them without hesitation. My perfectly aligned mugs and glasses shift as she searches.

"Do you alphabetize your spices?" she asks, peering into my meticulously organized pantry.

"Yes." The word comes out clipped, terse.

"Of course you do." Her laugh is soft, melodic. It grates against my nerves and yet... I want to hear it again.

She continues her exploration, leaving minor chaos in her wake. A mug slightly out of alignment. The coffee canister shifted from its designated spot. Each disruption sets my fingers twitching.

But there's something else. A warmth spreading through my chest as she moves through my space with such ease. As if she belongs here. The thought is as unsettling as it is appealing.

Vanessa casually opens my refrigerator, leaning in to examine its contents. My eyes lock on her, tracking every movement. A fierce wave of possessiveness rushes through me without warning, catching me off guard with its intensity.

I've never felt this powerful urge to claim, to protect, to hold something—someone—as only mine. This isn't just about protecting an asset anymore.

This is something far more dangerous.

Morning light filters through the blinds, casting thin stripes across my living room floor. My tactical watch reads 0647. I've been awake for twenty-three hours straight, but fatigue hasn't touched me.

Vanessa curls up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her. The sight of her in my clothing triggers something primitive in my brain that I refuse to acknowledge.

My secure tablet chimes with an incoming call. I tap the screen, connecting it to screen propped up on the coffee table.

"Morning brief," I tell Vanessa, my voice clipped.

Kade's face fills the screen, his expression all business. Alina sits beside him, her notepad already in hand. My jaw tightens at the sight of them together, not from jealousy, but from the casual intimacy they display. The ease of their connection.

"Situation report," Kade demands without preamble.

Before I can answer, Vanessa bounces up from the couch she was lying on and plops down beside me, close enough that I can feel her body heat radiating against my side. The scent of coconut and vanilla invades my senses.

"Hi!" She waves enthusiastically at the screen. "Oh wow, you're really pretty."

Alina's eyebrows rise, surprise flickering across her face before a small smile forms. "I like her already, Frost."

Kade's expression remains calculating. "Your assessment of Echo's capabilities checks out. You're authorized to maintain the alliance."

"Capabilities?" Vanessa interjects. "You make me sound like a weapon system."

You are one , I think, watching her fingers tap a rhythm against her thigh.

Kade continues outlining operational parameters while Vanessa fidgets beside me. Her knee bounces rhythmically, shaking the couch cushion in tiny vibrations that travel across my legs. Each movement feels like sandpaper against my nerves.

Without conscious thought, my hand moves to her knee, pressing down firmly. The bouncing stops.

Her skin is warm beneath my palm. Soft. I should remove my hand.

I don't.

"We'll need complete digital forensics on the Paradise Elite connection," Kade says, but his eyes have dropped to where my hand rests on Vanessa's leg.

Alina's knowing glance doesn't miss the gesture either. Her eyes meet mine through the screen, one eyebrow arched in silent question.

I feel exposed. Compromised. Yet I still don't move my hand.

"I'll send encrypted packets through our usual channels," I respond, voice steady despite the heat spreading up my arm from where I touch Vanessa.

When the call ends, Vanessa springs up from the couch and heads straight for my kitchen. I follow, watching as she casually shifts my coffee canister three inches to the left and places her mug in the empty space.

"What are you doing?" My voice comes out rough.

"Making room." She shrugs, not even looking at me. "If I'm staying here, I need a designated mug spot."

The urge to move everything back to its precise location wars with something else. A strange satisfaction at seeing her mark on my space.

I stare at her coffee mug sitting out of alignment with everything else on my counter. My fingers twitch with the need to restore order, yet I remain frozen, watching as she opens another cabinet with casual disregard for my system.

"Do you want eggs?" Vanessa moves to my refrigerator and begins rifling through it. Her small form disappears behind the door as she bends to examine the lower shelf.

I force my gaze away. "Top shelf. Left side. Behind the protein shakes."

She emerges with the carton, setting it on the counter two inches from its designated spot. My jaw tightens.

"Oh, my god." Her voice rises with delight as she opens my pantry. "You color-code your protein bars?"

Before I can stop her, she's pulling them out, stacking them in no discernible pattern. The carefully arranged gradient from chocolate to vanilla to berry now scattered in disarray.

"I like order." My voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

She doesn't look up as she begins rearranging them by flavor rather than color. "And I like complex patterns. Guess we'll have to find a middle ground."

The statement hangs between us, loaded with implications beyond my kitchen organization. Her small hands move with surprising efficiency, creating a new system that makes no logical sense to me.

"Flavor matters more than color," she explains, though I haven't asked. "Who cares if it looks pretty on the shelf if you grab a mint chocolate when you wanted peanut butter?"

"They're protein bars. The flavor is irrelevant. The nutritional content..."

"Is exactly what I'd expect you to care about." She laughs, the sound unexpectedly bright in my austere kitchen.

She moves past me, deliberately bumping her hip against mine as she reaches for a pan. That simple touch sends currents through my entire body, making my muscles go rigid like I'm preparing for a crash.

I take a measured breath. "You could ask before rearranging my things."

"You could say 'thank you' for making breakfast." She cracks eggs with one hand, a surprisingly fluid motion for someone so prone to fidgeting.

My fingers tighten around my coffee mug as she disrupts another system, mixing spices I never combine, adding ingredients in the wrong order. Yet the smell filling my kitchen is maddening, rich and complex, where my cooking is merely functional.

This reaction should trigger all my warning systems—but my defenses remain conspicuously silent.

The secure tablet chimes from the living room. Priority message.

I glance at the screen, and my calm is disrupted. Three words flash across the display: Paradise Elite connection.

Everything just got more complicated.