Page 55 of Locked and Loaded

"You were thinking about it. Just now, while you swam."

"I was thinking about my sister."

"You were thinking about your sister, and then about the key, and then you stopped thinking about either one and just swam. I watched it happen."

She stared at him. He read her like she was printed in large type, and she hated it. Hated more that he'd been sitting there cataloging every shift in her face while she pretended not to notice him watching.

"You don't know everything about me," she said.

"No." He walked to the edge, close enough now that she could see the small scar at the corner of his mouth, the one she'd felt under her thumb last night when she kissed him. "But I know you're not going to sit still. I told you to wait, and you're already planning your way out of it."

"Are you going to stop me?"

"I'm going to help you."

That stopped her cold. "What?"

"I said we'd work together. You didn't believe me." He crouched down so they were closer to level. "I meant it. But we do this smart… Or we don't do it. That's the deal."

She was still treading water, literally and figuratively. He was close enough that she could count the flecks of gold in his eyes if she wanted to, and she did want to, which was its own problem. She didn't reach for him. She wanted to. That was new, or at least it was new to admit.

"When?" she said.

"Tomorrow. I need tonight to make calls."

"Fine."

He raised an eyebrow. "No argument?"

"I'm too tired to argue with you tonight."

Something in his face eased, just slightly, like she'd told him something he needed to hear. He reached down and offered his hand. She looked at it a second longer than she needed to, at the scarred knuckles, at the palm that had settled against her hip when she’d recklessly kissed him, and then she took it.

He pulled her up out of the water in one motion, easy, like she weighed nothing, and she came up close enough that there was almost no space left between them. Water ran off her onto the tile. She was suddenly and completely aware of how little the suit covered and how wet it was and how he hadn't stepped back yet.

He looked at her for one second too long. His jaw tightened like he was working something out and not liking the answer. Then he let go of her hand and stepped back, and the space between them felt wider than it ought to.

"Towels are in the bathroom," he said. His voice came out level, but there was a rough edge underneath it that hadn't been there a minute ago.

She walked past him and didn't look back, and she could feel him watching every step of the way.

The bathroom was small and cool, the copper basin catching what little light came through the shutters. She pressed a towel to her face and stood there a second, heart beating too fast once again. The swim, she told herself. That was the whole reason.

She scoffed. Yeah, sure, that’s exactly why her pulse was racing.

She dried off and pulled on one of the robes hanging behind the door, thick white cotton that smelled faintly of cedar, and caught her own reflection in the spotted mirror. Her color was back. Her eyes looked less like a woman coming apart and more like herself. The swim had done that. She wasn't going to think too hard about what else had.

She ran the plan again while she stood there. When he showered, the key came off him. Everybody showered, even a man who apparently didn't sleep. He'd set it on the counter or the desk, somewhere within reach, and she'd be ready. She'd been too obvious last time. This time she'd wait for the right second and not a moment before.

She hung the towel over the rail and tied the robe tighter. Tomorrow they'd move together, make the calls, start building something real against Georgiou. But she wasn't going to sit around waiting on Dragan's timeline to act. She had her own plan running underneath his, and if it came down to it, she'd use it.

First, she needed the key.

She stepped out of the bathroom with her shoulders back. The courtyard had gone quiet. Dragan was gone, probably back in his office or the kitchen, and the current generator had switched off, leaving the pool still again. The light had shifted, and long shadows stretched across the mosaic floor.

She climbed the stairs to the gallery and went into her room. She left the door open a crack, wide enough to hear the water start.

Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.