Page 34

Rain drummed against the windshield as they drove through the city, the hula girl on the dash swaying in time. Kat pressed her forehead to the cool side window.

Brock’s van headlights illuminated a path through the darkness as they headed southeast. Brock had insisted they take it while he remained with the stolen van, wiping it clean before heading home by bus.

Gage’s voice played on repeat in her head. Custody. Eldridge’s people. Her brother as bait in a trap. She needed to get him out.

“There’s a motel just off the next junction,” Leo said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. They’d already decided to skip returning to his apartment tonight. Too risky. “We should stop. Clean up. Regroup.”

Kat turned toward Leo, pulling herself from thoughts of Gage.

His profile was etched in dashboard light—the powerful line of his jaw, a cut above his eyebrow crusted with dried blood. Their escape from the Royal London had left marks on both of them.

“Is it safe?” The question came automatically—the operative in her always calculating risk.

“Small place. Cash only. Brock’s used it before.” Leo changed lanes, checking the mirrors.

She nodded, wincing as the movement deepened the ache in her jaw. “A shower wouldn’t hurt.”

“You said you had an idea.”

The operational part of her brain slipped back into gear. “Jane’s our best chance at exposing what’s happening under the Royal London.”

“Risky.” Worry lines creased his forehead. “She sold you out once already.”

“She was scared and being blackmailed.” Kat reached for her phone.

“This time we have leverage—everything we found at the hospital. If Jane exposes it, it could force them to drop the charges against Gage. At the very least, it scrambles their timeline. Distracts them. And gives us space to figure out how Korolov and Eldridge connect.”

“And you think she’ll help?”

Her nod was firm. “Whatever else Jane is, she’s still an analyst. She follows the evidence. And we’re about to give her proof no one can ignore. Proof of research that never should’ve happened.” She held up her phone. “I’ll contact her, ask for a meeting.”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the gravel lot of a roadside motel. The building itself was a two-story gray nondescript box clad in peeling paint.

“Wait here.” Leo killed the engine.

He returned minutes later with an actual metal key, then drove them to the far end of the lot, parking the van where it would attract minimal attention.

The room was sparse—two double beds with faded floral spreads, a small bathroom, institutional carpet worn thin between beds and door. The air smelled faintly of lemony disinfectant.

“Home sweet home.” Kat dropped onto the edge of the nearest bed.

Leo set the first aid kit from the van on one of the bedside tables. “You should clean up first.”

The bathroom was barely large enough to turn around in, with tiles that had seen better decades and a water-stained ceiling. But when she turned the shower dial, hot water sputtered, then flowed steadily.

She stripped off her ruined clothes, letting them fall in a crumpled heap on the floor.In the mirror, a stranger stared back—blackened hair, bruised jaw, eyes too large in a pale face.

She tore her gaze off the mirror and stepped into the shower. Steaming water washed away the grime and for five minutes, she wasn’t a fugitive or a disgraced agent. Just a woman under hot water.

When she emerged wrapped in one of the thin white towels, she almost felt like herself again. She found Leo sitting on the edge of the bed, his gun within easy reach on the nightstand. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away, a muscle working in his jaw.

“Your turn,” she said, adjusting her grip on the towel that was suddenly too flimsy. “I left you some hot water.”

When the bathroom door closed behind him, Kat dug through the duffel bag Brock had packed, finding a clean T-shirt and utilitarian supermarket underwear. She pulled them on, relishing the simple comfort of clean fabric against sore skin.

The first aid kit lay open. She sat cross-legged beside it, examining the contents. Antiseptic, gauze pads, butterfly bandages, medical tape. Brock was thorough.

Water pipes groaned and clanked as the shower shut off.

Minutes later, Leo emerged in clean clothes, his hair damp and darkened.

Without the blood and dirt of their escape, the injuries on his face stood out more starkly—a gash above his eyebrow that probably needed stitches, a bruise graying near his temple.

“Sit,” she patted the space beside her. “That cut needs attention.”

He hesitated for a heartbeat before complying, the mattress sinking under his weight. Kat leaned closer, her fingers brushing his skin as she examined the wound. Heat radiated from him—his proximity sending a flutter through her stomach despite their circumstances.

“This might sting,” she warned, applying antiseptic with a cotton pad.

Leo remained perfectly still as the antiseptic touched raw flesh. His eyes, however, never left her face. The intensity of his gaze raised goosebumps along her arms.

“You’re staring,” she said, focusing on cleaning the cut.

“Hard not to.”

Her hands faltered. “I should make some joke about you having a head injury.” She reached for a butterfly bandage.

“But you won’t.”

“No.” She applied the bandage with gentle pressure, smoothing it carefully in place. “I won’t.”

When she finished, her hands lingered of their own accord, one resting lightly against the line of his jaw, unshaven against her palm.

“Kat—”

Her name on his lips made her throat constrict.

“Leonid.”

He set aside the first aid supplies. When he looked up, his eyes held the same conflict she felt—duty warring with desire, caution warring with need. “What are we doing?”

“Running for our lives. Trying to stop a global mind control conspiracy.” The attempt at humor was undermined by the tremor in her voice.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” She looked down at her hands. Silence stretched between them, filled with all they’d never said.

“When this is over,” he said, each word measured as if testing ice, “if?—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, throat constricting. “Don’t say if . We will.”

His hand found hers, rough callouses against her smoother skin as his fingers threaded through hers.

“When this is over... what happens then? Back to MI6 for you? Back to Norway for me? Back to encrypted calls and professional distance?”

Her thumb moved of its own accord, tracing the ridged landscape of his knuckles. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” The word came sharp and decisive. “It’s never been what I wanted.”

She stilled, a dozen unsaid things catching in her throat. “You never said anything.”

“Neither did you.”

Kat’s heartbeat stumbled. “I chose the job over everything else. I used to think I had to choose. Now I’m not so sure.”

Her free hand rose, fingertips finding the rough edge of his jaw, the contrast of stubble against warm skin. “What if we can have both?”

“I’ve spent years telling myself I didn’t deserve this,” Leo admitted, his voice low enough that she had to lean closer to hear.

“When you disappeared after Oslo,” she said softly. “I almost thought I’d imagined it.”

His lips skimmed the curve of her ear and she closed her eyes, lost in the sensation.

His breath warmed her skin. “There’s not been a waking minute since Oslo that I didn’t think of you.”

God . Her heart stole a few extra beats. This man.

“We all have ghosts. All of us who do this work.” Her thumb brushed over the scar near his eye. “But I’m tired of letting them decide my future.”

He leaned forward, and his lips met hers, gentle at first, then hungry. The world narrowed to just them as she pulled him closer, his touch warm through the thin borrowed shirt.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath shared in the narrow space between them.

His chest rose and fell. “This is so fucking complicated.”

A small laugh escaped her. “Understatement.” Her fingers traced the short hair at the back of his neck, memorizing the texture. “But I think we’re past pretending this isn’t what we both want.”

“And after?” His question held equal parts hope and caution.

Kat searched his eyes, finding herself on unfamiliar ground. “I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “But I know I can’t go back to being the version of me who thought this—us—was impossible.” Reality intruded as a shadow crossed her thoughts. “If I still have a career after this?—”

“You will.” His voice hardened with certainty. “We’ll clear your name.”

His certainty steadied her. “Then maybe...” She hesitated. “Maybe we figure it out together?”

“Together.” He pressed a kiss to her palm.

Her phone buzzed. Jane. She scanned the message.

“She’s agreed to meet me tomorrow morning.” Kat typed a quick reply, then turned the phone face down on the bed, her mind whirling.

Gage was still in custody, and Project Nightshade’s clock kept ticking.

“That leaves my brother. MI6 can only hold him for so long without formal charges. If they’re using him as bait, they’ll have processed him through the system—which means bail is possible.”

“Brock can arrange the paperwork anonymously. I’ll collect him in the morning.”

“Really?”

Leo nodded. “First light. I’ll handle Gage around nine—that’s when shift change happens at most stations. Less attention.”

“You and Gage in the same space without me as a buffer?” Kat studied him.

“I can handle your brother.” Leo shot her a side-eye. “Besides, you need to be the one to talk to Jane. She trusts you—or did. There’s history there.”

Something flickered across his face—a fleeting crack in his usual composure. Not doubt about his abilities, but vulnerability about what was growing between them. About what they might lose if tomorrow went wrong.

“You’re right. And we’ll have more manpower if we divide and conquer. We’re running out of time.”She reached for his hand again. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being willing to face my brother’s particular brand of charm without backup.” A smile tugged at her lips. “That might require more courage than everything else we’ve done.”

Leo’s fingers intertwined with hers. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow could determine everything.”

“Yes.” Exhaustion hit her suddenly, like gravity had doubled. The adrenaline crash was coming, but she welcomed it. Sleep would reset her mind, and she needed to be sharp tomorrow.

Everything was simple in theory. Dangerous in execution.

As Leo held her, headlights briefly illuminated the ceiling before fading away.

Tomorrow waited on the other side of darkness.

But for tonight, she allowed herself to believe they might actually succeed. That there might be an after for them to figure out together.