alone with Geoffrey again, only a bed between us, causes my mind to veer slightly off course. He’s still wearing the jeans and T-shirt he wore when I snuck up on him the day before. Only now there is a bit of grease on the thigh of his jeans. I wonder if it’s from our bike ride. Or if it’s from our encounter in the garage. I try not to replay it in my mind, but his jeans are tight, and they pull me back to the dark side. I feel a throb between my legs, and have to cross my arms to cover up my hardening nipples. Now’s not the time.
Geoffrey clears his throat, making my eyes travel back up his body to his face. As much as I want to be with him, the need in his eyes doesn’t match mine. He desires something more, almost like he wants to take care of me, but he’s scared to. And now there is something bad between us. I have no idea which one of us is responsible for it. Did I push him away? Or does he finally see through me? Can he tell what a mess I am? Unable to love anyone, or keep them close, because I don’t trust them to be there tomorrow.
“You go ahead and take the bed,” Geoffrey offers, his shoulders tense. As if the thought of sharing it with me is unsettling.
Even though he’s offering me the bed out of chivalry, the comment hurts. Is he so repulsed by what we did in the garage, in his living room the night before, that he can’t stand the thought of lying next to me?
I shake my head. “I won’t be sleeping. You take the bed.”
His face softens. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll be fine.”
“No, I’m here to protect you. I can go several days without sleep. You, however, look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” he says. “If you’re supposed to be my warrior, you need to rest up and get your strength.”
I take a deep breath. “Geoffrey, I appreciate the chivalry, but you don’t get it. It’s not about me; it’s not about you. It’s about saving the world from the next nine-eleven.” It comes out a bit harsher than I mean it to. “Look, I’m sorry to be so unkind, but I have to do a sweep of the area and plan for a possible emergency escape. I don’t have time to sleep. I need you to, though. Please.” I say the last words a bit more gently, hoping that I sound caring, but I’m too busy making calculations to know for sure.
It’s easier for me to think about my next move than to worry about what we mean to each other.
Geoffrey finally relents and I tuck him in, leaving him my backup gun just in case.
Chapter Thirteen
I do a walk-through of the house. The place is full of windows, which is both good and bad. It means we will be able to see anyone coming, but it also means they will be able to see us.
There are two doors leading outside, one in front and one in the back. The doors combined with the windows make this place chock full of exits. In an emergency, we can take our pick. There is only the one road, but we passed several cross-roads just a little ways back. As long as we can get to the bike, we’ll be fine.
The three year old—I think her name is Bea—runs through the house squealing as her mother chases her. The mother is trying to get her shoes on so that they can go to the market, but Bea has turned it into a game.
It hurts to think about the danger we are putting them in, just by being here. I clench my jaw, remembering my priority. It’s Geoffrey. I have to do everything I can to keep him safe. It’s not about this little girl and her mother—it’s about the bigger picture. If Sims gets ahold of Geoffrey and if Geoffrey really can get them the information they seek, it could mean the next nine-eleven, the next embassy bombing, the next attack. This is why I joined the CIA. If they’d only known what was coming, if the CIA had been ready twenty years ago, my parents would be alive today.
But it doesn’t seem fair. What could Geoffrey possibly know that is so important that this innocent little girl and her mother
Geoffrey clears his throat, making my eyes travel back up his body to his face. As much as I want to be with him, the need in his eyes doesn’t match mine. He desires something more, almost like he wants to take care of me, but he’s scared to. And now there is something bad between us. I have no idea which one of us is responsible for it. Did I push him away? Or does he finally see through me? Can he tell what a mess I am? Unable to love anyone, or keep them close, because I don’t trust them to be there tomorrow.
“You go ahead and take the bed,” Geoffrey offers, his shoulders tense. As if the thought of sharing it with me is unsettling.
Even though he’s offering me the bed out of chivalry, the comment hurts. Is he so repulsed by what we did in the garage, in his living room the night before, that he can’t stand the thought of lying next to me?
I shake my head. “I won’t be sleeping. You take the bed.”
His face softens. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll be fine.”
“No, I’m here to protect you. I can go several days without sleep. You, however, look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” he says. “If you’re supposed to be my warrior, you need to rest up and get your strength.”
I take a deep breath. “Geoffrey, I appreciate the chivalry, but you don’t get it. It’s not about me; it’s not about you. It’s about saving the world from the next nine-eleven.” It comes out a bit harsher than I mean it to. “Look, I’m sorry to be so unkind, but I have to do a sweep of the area and plan for a possible emergency escape. I don’t have time to sleep. I need you to, though. Please.” I say the last words a bit more gently, hoping that I sound caring, but I’m too busy making calculations to know for sure.
It’s easier for me to think about my next move than to worry about what we mean to each other.
Geoffrey finally relents and I tuck him in, leaving him my backup gun just in case.
Chapter Thirteen
I do a walk-through of the house. The place is full of windows, which is both good and bad. It means we will be able to see anyone coming, but it also means they will be able to see us.
There are two doors leading outside, one in front and one in the back. The doors combined with the windows make this place chock full of exits. In an emergency, we can take our pick. There is only the one road, but we passed several cross-roads just a little ways back. As long as we can get to the bike, we’ll be fine.
The three year old—I think her name is Bea—runs through the house squealing as her mother chases her. The mother is trying to get her shoes on so that they can go to the market, but Bea has turned it into a game.
It hurts to think about the danger we are putting them in, just by being here. I clench my jaw, remembering my priority. It’s Geoffrey. I have to do everything I can to keep him safe. It’s not about this little girl and her mother—it’s about the bigger picture. If Sims gets ahold of Geoffrey and if Geoffrey really can get them the information they seek, it could mean the next nine-eleven, the next embassy bombing, the next attack. This is why I joined the CIA. If they’d only known what was coming, if the CIA had been ready twenty years ago, my parents would be alive today.
But it doesn’t seem fair. What could Geoffrey possibly know that is so important that this innocent little girl and her mother
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