Countdown to Zero Hour by Nico Rosso

Author:Nico Rosso
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Instead of sleeping with Hayley’s arm draped over him, Art had spent the night in his windowless room with his pistol in his hand. Light sleep had taken him to morning. His mind had swirled with the tactical details of the house. Every time the floor plan emerged in his imagination, the map moved to Hayley’s room.

Instead of satisfying the built-up need between them, he was left wanting to know every inch of her. His body ached from how they’d thrown themselves together. It wasn’t enough. The image of her naked and writhing on the mattress on the floor haunted him.

Art rose from the bed, knowing he was done with sleep, and pulled his supplies together for a shower. Sunlight already blasted through the second-floor windows. Yesterday’s clouds had been erased by the bright blue. Traces of moisture remained outside in the long morning shadows.

He was the first one in the bathroom. There were three shower stalls, and he took the one farthest from the door. If someone was coming, he would have a second of extra time to know. He had his soap, towel, change of clothes and his push dagger. It was stainless steel and held up fine in the water. Because of the T-handle grip, he didn’t need to worry about soapy hands mishandling the knife.

This morning, he showered in peace. Though his mind churned with thoughts of Hayley. She trusted him. She’d let him into her room. She’d let herself go with him.

And he’d let himself go with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that honest with someone.

Never.

He finished his shower and dressed, wondering if trust was a mistake that would get him killed. The stakes of the mission rose every second he was with Hayley. His judgment, his aim, needed to remain clear.

After kitting himself back up with his pistol and knives in his room, he emerged while the others were waking up. There was the usual dirty look from Garin, and Vasily was stone-faced. If anyone knew Art had been with Hayley the night before, they didn’t indicate it. And he knew they wouldn’t have been able to keep from making lewd comments or gestures. The secret was secure.

So was Hayley. He watched from the first-floor living room as she exited her own bathroom, dressed after her shower and headed straight for the kitchen. Her chef’s coat was already buttoned over her, like a flak jacket. But he knew how she was curved beneath it. How silky and responsive she was.

Before she immersed herself with work, she looked up to where Art leaned on a pillar in the open living room. Her smile for him was private, knowing, and it built a warm glow in his chest. He gave her a small wave back but couldn’t approach. That floor of the house was too quiet. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hand from her hand, his mouth from hers.

She hurried together the walking breakfast, then prepped other things, presumably for lunch.

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