Page 44 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

thirty-five

Kade

I jolt awake, my hand already reaching for the gun on the nightstand. Someone's in the penthouse. Alina stirs beside me as I sit up, weapon trained on the shadowy figure by the door.

"Don't move," I growl, my finger steady on the trigger.

The intruder raises his hands slowly. "It's me."

I blink, recognition dawning. "Damian? What the hell?"

Alina sits up and gasps, clutching the sheets to her chest. "How did you even get in here?"

I lower the gun but keep it close.

Damian's mouth quirks slightly. "Training." His gravelly voice is barely audible as his eyes scan the room with clinical precision.

I scrub a hand over my face, adrenaline still pumping. "How'd you get in here? "

"You taught me." He remains motionless against the doorframe, unfazed by having stared down my gun barrel moments ago.

"Ten hours. No contact." His gray eyes flick between Alina and me, a single eyebrow raising. "Thought Steele got to you."

Alina shifts beside me, her tone sharp. "Do you always just waltz into people's bedrooms uninvited?"

"Only when necessary." Damian's expression remains unchanged, but a dark amusement flashes in his eyes.

"Though this is... unexpected." His gaze settles on me, the unspoken observation hanging in the air between us.

Alina's cheeks flush. I put myself between her and Damian's knowing gaze.

I glance at the clock. 10:56. I run a hand through my hair, frustration warring with embarrassment.

"Shit. We'll be there in thirty." My tone leaves no room for argument.

Damian nods once, pushing off the wall. "Team was concerned."

"Damian," I call after him. He pauses, looking back. "Next time, call first."

The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Noted." He turns to leave, then stops. "Five minutes."

As the door closes behind him, I let out a long breath.

He's been here five minutes? I'm slipping.

I wait until I hear the elevator doors close before setting the gun down. Alina's watching me, her green eyes wide.

"So," she says, a hint of humor in her voice. "Is this a typical morning for you? "

I collapse back onto the bed, my heart still racing from the unexpected intrusion. The soft sheets feel cool against my skin as I try to steady my breathing. A chuckle escapes my lips, the sound surprisingly light in the tense aftermath.

"Typical morning? Not even close," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "I'm usually at CPG headquarters before the sun's up."

Alina shifts beside me, her warmth radiating against my side. The mattress dips as she moves, and suddenly she's straddling my hips. Her weight settles on me, sending a surge of desire through my body.

"Well," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye, "since we're already running late, want to take a shower?"

A groan rumbles in my chest, equal parts temptation and frustration. "If we shower together, we'll never make it to headquarters."

My hands find her waist, thumbs tracing small circles on her soft skin. My body responds instantly.

Fuck. The temptation is winning out.

I should push her off, maintain some control over this situation.

We have a briefing to get to, evidence to examine, a fucking murderer to catch.

But her skin is warm under my touch, and the way she's looking at me—eyes dark with desire, that little smirk on her lips—is making it impossible to think straight.

Professional boundaries are crumbling fast, and the scary part is I don't give a damn. The Ghost, always in control, always three steps ahead—reduced to this raw, desperate hunger by a journalist with a death wish and smart mouth.

Alina's gaze drifts to my side, where the bruise from the bullet impact still marks my skin. Her teeth worry at her lower lip, concern clouding her features.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching up to cup her cheek. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it feels."

She leans into my touch, but the worry doesn't leave her eyes. "Are you sure? That bruise looks nasty."

I nod, my thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I've had worse. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll have Remy take a look when we get to headquarters."

The tension in her shoulders eases slightly at my words. She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips and the scent of her ski envelops me.

"Thank you," she murmurs against my mouth.

I deepen the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair.

For a moment, I let myself forget about Damian's intrusion, about the looming threat of Steele, about all the complications waiting for us outside this room.

Right now, it's just Alina and me, wrapped in the cocoon of rumpled sheets and morning light.

But reality intrudes, as it always does. With a sigh, I break the kiss.

"We really should get going," I say, even as every fiber of my being wants to stay right here.

"You're right," she agrees, but makes no move to get up. Instead, she leans down, her lips brushing against mine again. "But maybe we can spare a few more minutes?"

My resolve crumbles embarrassingly fast. I pull her closer, deepening the kiss.

Maybe being a little late might not be such a bad thing after all .

I can't keep my hands off her. Her skin is soft under my fingertips, her lips hungry against mine. all thoughts of getting ready forgotten.

"We're going to be so late," Alina gasps between kisses.

I trail my lips down her neck. "Worth it."

Time blurs as we lose ourselves in each other again. And again. The urgency of our mission fades away, replaced by the burning need to be as close as possible.

Finally, we drag ourselves out of bed. I watch Alina as she gets dressed, admiring the graceful lines of her body. When she bends to retrieve her underwear, I can't resist landing a playful smack on her rear.

She jumps, a small hiss escaping her lips as she straightens. "Still tender from last night," she murmurs, shooting me a look that's half warning, half invitation.

I smirk, satisfaction warming my chest. I step closer, gently running my palm over the spot I'd just smacked. "Good. A little reminder of who you belong to when I'm not around."

Her breath catches, pupils dilating even as she rolls her eyes. "Possessive much?"

"Always," I confirm, pressing a kiss to her neck. "Especially with you."

We're both grinning as we leave the penthouse, our fingers intertwined. The ride to CPG headquarters is a blur of stolen glances and lingering touches. Alina shifts in her seat occasionally, the subtle wincing reminding us both of our night together.

As we walk into the command center two hours late, I'm acutely aware of every eye on us. Damian and Jax exchange knowing looks.

"Finally," Damian says, his voice tinged with humor .

I keep my expression neutral. "We had some things to discuss."

Jax snorts, eyes bright with barely contained energy.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" His fingers tap a rapid rhythm against the console.

Alina shifts her weight, a slight wince crossing her features as she tries to find a comfortable position. I catch the movement, and a possessive pride surges through me. Her eyes narrow when she notices my smile, but she can't quite hide her own smile.

"Alright, enough," I say, trying to sound stern. "We have work to do."

But Damian isn't done. His eyes narrow slightly. "Unrecognized expression. Identity verification required."

I roll my eyes, but I can't quite wipe the smile off my face. "Focus on the mission, Damian. That's an order."

As we settle into our usual positions, I catch Alina's eye across the room. She winks at me, and a warmth spreads through my chest. When she sits down at her workstation, another wince flashes across her face.

I reach over and give her rear a light pat, just enough to remind her of last night. The look she gives me is pure fire, a promise for later.

I clear my throat, pushing aside the lingering warmth from this morning. "What have we got on Steele's location?"

The team snaps to attention, their playful expressions fading. Cole steps forward, his tablet in hand, movements precise and measured.

"I've been analyzing Steele's encrypted communications network." He taps the screen once, efficiently bringing up a complex web of data points on the main display. "The pattern is concerning, Ghost."

I lean in, studying the intricate network. "Talk to me."

Cole zooms in on a cluster of nodes with methodical precision. "Steele implemented comprehensive surveillance on Alina's entire social network. Family, colleagues, informants—all mapped and monitored."

He glances at Alina, his expression remaining analytical even as he delivers the troubling news. "The informant interception was deliberate and calculated based on established patterns."

Steele's been watching her this whole time. We played right into his hands.

The warmth in my chest turns to ice. Images flash through my mind—Steele's broken body, his blood staining concrete, his empire crumbling. He touched what's mine. Death would be too merciful.

"Kade?" Alina's voice is soft, concerned.

I don't answer. Instead, I pull out my phone and dial a number from memory. The team watches in silence as I wait for the call to connect.

"Brodie," I say when the line connects, my voice quiet but firm. "I need your CIA contact to give me all the information you have on Markus J. Steele. I don't give a fuck about clearance levels. Just make it happen."

"Jesus, Ghost. What's going on?" Brodie's voice cuts through my phone speaker.

I lock eyes with Damian, our team's cleaner, as I continue speaking to Brodie. "I've got my cleaners ready. This ends only one way—with Steele dead."

"Shit. What did Steele do?" Brodie asks, tension clear in his voice .

"Steele is responsible for Roman's death," I say, the words burning in my throat.

The line goes silent for a long moment. When Brodie finally speaks, his tone is razor-sharp. "Consider it done."