Page 176 of Operation: Defiance

He doesn’t ask how the call went. He knows I’ll tell him eventually.

I cross the room, not stopping until I’m close enough to breathe him in. “Can you hold me?”

Shock plays over his features for a beat. “Rules?”

“Not too tight.”

He waits, expecting more, and my heart flutters a little. I slip my arms around his waist, rest my forehead against his shoulder, and sync my breathing to his.

One of his hands rests at my lower back, the other slides into my hair. He doesn’t tighten his grip. Doesn’t press. Doesn’t cage me in.

When I first woke up here, I didn’t think I’d want to be touched ever again. Now, I’m starting to realize I’m ready for a lot more than his arms around me. Asher sees me in a way no one else ever has. In a way that’s allowed me to trust him as I relearn how to trust myself.

“This is bigger than I thought,” I say. “Ellen…she confirmed she’s been through it.” I pull back enough he can see my eyes. “She’s still going through it. If she doesn’t run, they’ll take her again, Asher. Soon.”

“Fuck. I can call Inara. Her K&R team might be able to get there first.”

“No. Ellen was a field agent. She wouldn’t want anyone else to put themselves at risk. She could have hung up on me. Instead, she gave me history. This isn’t new. She retired almost six years ago, and the program existed long before that. It might be as old as GSD itself.

“I have to see if there’s a way for me to access anything from internal GSD systems. Today. If I wait, more people will get hurt. People who should have been clear. People who have no idea this program even exists.”

He nods once. No argument. No push. “What do you need from me?”

I swallow. This part still costs me. “I need to know you’re choosing this,” I say. “Not because of me. Because you understand what it means.”

His hands don’t move, don’t tighten. His breathing doesn’t change. “I do,” he says. “And I am. Nothing’s changed there.”

I search his face for the hesitation I’ve found in the past when I’ve asked others for help and find only promise in his eyes.

“I’m going to ask you that a lot. Too much. Maybe every time something changes.”

His expression softens, and he shifts enough to touch his forehead to mine. “My answer will always be the same.”

For several long moments, I let myself be held. Then, with a sigh, tip my head up so I can kiss him. It’s brief. Soft and gentle in a way that soothes my nerves. “I don’t have a framework for this. For someone choosing me without conditions.”

Asher’s fingers flex once against my lower back. He lowers his mouth to mine, whispering against my lips, “Then we build one.”

The world narrows until we’re the only two people in it. Heat gathers somewhere deep and confusing, and I want to understand it. Map it. Act on it. But I can’t. Not yet. I have work to do.

I step back just enough to stand on my own. “I need some time to arrange all the pieces. Once I do that, I—we—can make the first move.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Asher

Raine asked for time to think, so I sit down in that godawful chair and pull out my tablet.

Over the past twenty years, I’ve had dozens of aliases. Some lasted less than a week. Others I’ve maintained for more than a decade.

Last night, I shut down Mason Locke every way I knew how. But when I create a new alias, I have to start somewhere. Never with Asher Cole.

For Mason, I picked an old name I hadn’t used in six years. Eddie Stewart provided the references Mason Locke needed to lease an apartment in San Francisco. The apartment was the anchor for everything that followed. His driver’s license, then a social security number, passport, and more.

I haven’t checked Eddie’s accounts in months. He has a dozen unread emails, two Signal chat requests, and…fuck. A fraud notification from his credit monitoring service for a card he’s never had. From last night.

I don’t panic. Panic leads to mistakes. Mistakes can be deadly. The Eddie alias is a British citizen. The only card that exists in his name is from the Royal Bank of London.

It could be random. Some other Eddie Stewart whose email address is one or two letters off from mine. Or run-of-the-mill identity theft. But burying my head in the sand over this won’t keep Raine safe.