Page 45 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he walk back to the truck was silent, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that fades.

It was thick.

Buzzing.

Every step felt like it pulled us tighter, wound the wire a little more until something had to snap.

Kaylie’s worried eyes flicked between us when we climbed in, but Tag didn’t say a word. He just slammed the door, started the engine, and pointed us back toward the desert track.

I stared out my window, arms folded tight, refusing to be the one who spoke first.

It lasted all of forty-five seconds.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he bit out.

I kept my eyes on the darkness outside. “It’s not relevant.”

“Not relevant?” His voice cracked sharply in the small cab. “Sable just told me Graves wants you dead for more than leverage. That’s damn relevant.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not the point!”

He jerked the truck to a stop, throwing us into the stillness. Dust curled past the broken windows, the engine ticking as it cooled. Then he turned toward me, his jaw set hard.

“You think this is just about you? Every move you make out here affects my ability to keep you alive. And I can’t do that if you keep—”

“—what? If I keep secrets?” I shot back, finally meeting his stare. “You’ve got more ghosts in your past than I can count, Tag, but you don’t see me demanding to exhume them.”

His eyes flashed, the muscle in his cheek twitching. “Difference is, my ghosts aren’t trying to kill you.”

We sat there, breathing hard, staring at each other like we could will the other to break first.

It wasn’t anger anymore. Not really.

It was heat.

Tight, coiled, and ready to burn.

He moved first—closing the gap, one hand cupping the side of my neck, the other braced against the seat. His kiss wasn’t tentative. It was rough, demanding, like he was claiming ground before I could push him out of it again.

I should’ve pulled back.

I didn’t.

My hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer until there was no space left, until I could taste the adrenaline and desert dust on his mouth.

When we broke for air, his forehead rested against mine, his voice low and raw. “You’re in this with me, Aponi. All the way. No more walls.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse still pounding. “Then stop giving me reasons to keep them.”

The moment held—intense, unsteady—before Kaylie shifted in the back seat, reminding us we were still in the middle of the desert with a sniper somewhere out there.

Tag pulled back, eyes still locked on mine. “We finish this conversation when she’s safe.”

And God help me, I wanted to.