The low, almost soothing hum of the SUV's powerful V6 engine filled the comfortable quiet as Wes expertly navigated through the scattered confusion of Manila's early afternoon traffic. A thin layer of heat haze shimmering over the gridlocked cars outside.
Mina sat with her shoulder against the warm glass of the window, but her gaze wasn't truly fixed on the colorful blur of jeepneys and street vendors. Her mind was a tangled knot of adrenaline and confusion. She replayed the suddenness of the brutal fight breaking out earlier, the intimidating arrival of a foreign diplomat and the calm, utterly unnerving way Wes had moved through it all.
Mina knew the incident should have shaken him, provoked panic, anxiety or some form of visible reaction. Instead, Wes had treated the entire potentially dangerous incident like it was just another day at work. Laughing and chatting with the diplomat moments later as if he were just a normal person. There was clearly something exceptional about her uncle. Whether that exceptional quality was special or deeply broken, Mina still couldn't decide.
Beside her, Wes seemed to have shed the entire incident with the ease of taking off a jacket. He looked utterly relaxed, one hand resting lightly on the wheel, the other tapping a steady, syncopated rhythm against the steering column to the faint, jazzy beat of the radio.
He spared her a quick, knowing glance, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"You've been staring at traffic for the past ten minutes," he murmured, his voice low. "You're thinking too much into it again, Mina. I noticed you have a tendency to do that. "
Mina blinked, her attention snapping back. She straightened in the leather seat. "I am not."
He chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his chest. "Good. Then let's refocus all that brain power to something more urgent. Food. We need groceries. The person responsible for emptying the fridge at record speed needs to be held accountable."
She turned to him, mock offense rising in her tone, enjoying the shift in focus. "Are you saying I eat too much?"
"I'm saying you have an absolutely delightful enthusiasm for good food," Wes countered smoothly, a twinkle in his eye as he fought a full smile. "It's a rare and admirable gift. You clearly know how to enjoy the better things in life."
"Uh-huh. Translation: I'm getting fat."
Wes let out a genuine, hearty laugh, shaking his head. "Mina, if you think you're fat, then what does that say about nearly every other woman on earth? You've got a great figure. Trust me, I've got an eye for these things."
Her cheeks immediately colored, a warmth she felt spread to the tips of her ears. She quickly turned back toward the window, biting the inside of her cheek to hide a sudden, unexpected, and foolishly giddy smile.
She let a few seconds pass, then turned back, narrowing her eyes to look at him in mock suspicion. "Wait a minute, Uncle Wes," she said, her voice dropping into a dramatic whisper intended to tease him. "Are you saying you spend your time looking at women's bodies? That sounds… creepy."
"Women look at my body all the time, I'm just repaying the favor," he said lightly, signaling a turn. He swung the SUV off the main road and into the busy parking area of an upscale strip mall. "Besides, women don't seem to mind if I look at them though."
"Uncle Wes!" Mina turned and faced Wes. Her face completely red from embarrassment. "You're not supposed to say things like that!"
"I know. But at least now you're no longer overthinking things." He said with a wink as he got out of the vehicle.
Inside the brightly lit, air-conditioned expanse of the supermarket, Mina and Wes looked like any ordinary, attractive couple on a weekday errand. Women eyed Wes appreciatively in his simple, body hugging black T-shirt that hinted at his sculpted frame underneath. The only hint of his true status was the heavy, understated Panerai watch glinting on his wrist. Mina, in her sleeveless tank top and shorts, looked stunningly out of place among the midday shoppers, her casual, unadorned natural beauty drawing more than a few lingering glances.
They moved down the aisles with an easy, practiced synchronization. Wes pushed the oversized steel cart, maneuvering it expertly around slower shoppers, while Mina walked beside him, scanning nutrition labels with a level of focused seriousness usually reserved for contract negotiations.
"Are you conducting a comparative analysis of the leading potato chip brands?" Wes teased, resting his chin on the cart's handle as they paused in the snack aisle.
"Every calorie counts. And every additive matters," Mina replied without looking up, finally dropping a bag of sea salt and vinegar chips into the cart with a decisive thump. "You wouldn't understand the fine art of strategic snacking."
"I understand that we now have thirty thousand calories of snacks and precisely zero ingredients for a balanced meal."
She promptly grabbed a bag of pre-washed baby spinach from a nearby cold rack and tossed it in. "Problem solved. Fiber and micronutrients. Next."
"Right," Wes said, pulling the cart forward dryly. "What is this? A sad garnish for your chips?"
"Nope. For fiber," she corrected.
He shook his head, a grin playing on his lips. "Okay time for me to take over and get some real food."
They were halfway through the refrigerated dairy section, where Wes debating the merits of organic versus commercial eggs, when a warm, resonant voice drifted toward them, cutting through the general noise of the supermarket.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite fitness model, why is it you look like you just snuck out of a gym photoshoot? You're not going behind my back are you?"
Wes turned, his casual posture freezing for a moment. Mina felt a prickle of instant, unwarranted alarm.
Lisa Moreno stood just by the aisle entrance, her presence effortlessly commanding even amidst the mundane chaos of refrigerated milk and yogurt. She was the picture of polished athleticism, dressed in sleek, coordinated gym wear, leggings and a cropped top. Her hair was pulled into a high, flawless ponytail and her toned frame glistened lightly from a recent workout. Even casual, she looked like she'd stepped directly out of a high end fashion campaign.
"Lisa," Wes greeted her, genuine surprise and warmth registering in his voice. "Didn't expect to run into you here."
"Had to grab a few post gym recovery essentials before heading back," she said, walking toward them with a bright, magnetic smile. Her eyes then shifted to Mina, softening into an expression of genuine affection. "And look who we have here. Mina, Wes's niece. Even in that attire you already look photo ready."
Mina thought Lisa emphasized the 'niece' part too much but still managed a polite smile, feeling suddenly awkward under the scrutiny. "Hi, Miss Moreno."
"Oh, please, it's Lisa," she insisted warmly, stepping closer. A faint, clean scent of expensive citrus and musk drifted over. "We've already survived one chaotic day at the studio together. No need for formalities."
Mina vividly recalled the studio's buzzing energy, the relentless flash of lights, Lisa's poised professionalism, and the effortless way she commanded the entire set. Back then, she hadn't been able to decide if Lisa intimidated or utterly inspired her.
Lisa's gaze lingered on Wes and the half-empty shopping cart. "So, are the two of out on a grocery run? How delightfully domestic. Planning a big dinner?"
"Trying to keep the house from running out of provisions," Wes said with a slight smirk, tossing the carton of organic eggs into the cart. "She's been threatening to order… God help us… fast food for breakfast."
Mina instantly crossed her arms over her chest. "All I said was that I missed the Big Breakfast at McDonald's."
Lisa laughed softly, a low, melodic sound that drew a few appreciative glances from passersby in the next aisle. "You two are absolutely adorable."
Her tone was light, but Mina couldn't help picking up on the easy, shared warmth beneath it. The kind of familiarity that suggested history, not just professional acquaintance. Maybe too much history.
Lisa turned back to Mina, her expression settling into one of professional appraisal. "I meant to tell you after the shoot, you looked truly fantastic, Mina. I had one of my photographers take some candid pictures of you when you weren't looking. You have this natural ease in front of the camera, very unforced. Not many people can pull that off, it's a rare thing in this industry."
Mina blinked, genuinely surprised by the compliment. "You think so?"
"I know so," Lisa said, her confidence absolute. "You'd be surprised how many aspiring models would kill for that kind of raw presence, that lack of trying."
For a fleeting moment, Mina was caught between pride and deep suspicion. Lisa seemed too perfect, too nice, too composed. Yet there was nothing manufactured about her tone, just an easy, honed charm of someone who was always in complete control of the space she occupied.
Wes, meanwhile, seemed utterly oblivious to the silent, charged energy between the two women. He consulted the list on his phone again. "I love it when my two favorite people get along." he said, utterly casual.
Lisa smiled at him, a genuine flash of warmth reserved only for him. "You always did have impeccable taste in company, Wes."
Wes gave a half shrug and chuckled. "Of course you'd say that. By the way, the two of you would look great on a magazine cover right now. Sophisticated allure vs raw beauty. It would sell out in minutes. "
"Flatterer," Lisa smiled coyly, then looked at Mina again, her tone shifting back to business. "You should visit the studio soon. I have a few test shoots coming up, nothing serious, just portfolio building work, but it would give you a feel for the business side of the industry. But only if you're interested, of course."
Mina nodded politely, careful to keep her interest in check. "Maybe. I'm pretty busy right now."
Lisa caught the subtle hesitation and simply gave a slight, understanding smile, refusing to pressure her. "Take your time to decide dear, my offer still stands. You know where to find me."
Wes's phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his easy smile tightening briefly before he silenced the device. "Sorry. Business never sleeps."
Lisa waved a dismissive hand, the gesture familiar and easy. "It never does for you does it." She reached out and touched his forearm lightly, letting her fingers lightly graze his skin. A casual but intimate connection. "Call me later tonight, okay? We still have to go over those campaign revisions for the fall line."
"Will do," Wes confirmed, already looking back down at his list.
Lisa gave Mina one last warm smile, a look that lingered a fraction of a second too long. "It was genuinely nice seeing you again, Mina. Don't be a stranger."
"I won't," Mina replied, managing a polite, firmly neutral smile of her own.
Lisa gave a final, effortless head tilt and turned, her perfect ponytail swaying as she walked away with the confident, hip-swaying grace of someone who knew exactly the effect she had just created.
Mina stared after her until she rounded the corner into the produce section, her arms crossed tightly over her ample chest.
Wes turned back, pulling the cart forward a step, that infuriatingly calm and pleasant look back on his face. "You two seemed to get along better this time. Progress."
Mina shot him a sideways glance that held a wealth of cynicism. "You really can't tell when two women are just pretending to be nice to each other, can you?"
He smiled at her reassuringly. "I think you're overthinking things again. Lisa is just trying to be nice because she genuinely likes you. You should give her a chance."
Mina lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed. Was she really just overthinking things? "I'll try."
"Thank you, Mina. I know because of what you went through, you've had a hard time opening up, but believe me when I say Lisa is good people." He said, pushing the cart down the aisle. "Now come on. If we don't check out soon, I'm blaming you when we end up eating canned soup for dinner."
Mina followed the cart, her pretense of grumbling about the prioritization of broccoli over triple layered chips sounding flat even to her own ears. Her thoughts had utterly abandoned the grocery list. They lingered, instead, entirely on the woman who had just walked away.
Lisa Moreno, beautiful, sleek, with an effortless sophistication that Mina instinctively felt she lacked. She was composed, commanding, and radiated a deep-seated confidence that seemed to anchor her in any room. More than that, the way she had interacted with Wes, the casual familiar touch on his arm, the easy laughter, the shared understanding of his frequent calls, spoke of a connection that went far deeper than a past romance. It was the kind of lingering intimacy that only appeared when a bond had been truly significant.
Mina watched the spot where Lisa had stood, and a strange, hot discomfort bloomed in her chest. It wasn't just envy of Lisa's professional success or striking looks. It was the recognition of her place in Wes's life, a history Mina couldn't touch.
And in that brightly lit, utterly mundane dairy aisle, Mina finally admitted the sharp, uncomfortable truth. She was jealous. Jealous of the easy familiarity, the shared past, and absolutely terrified by the idea that Lisa represented a level of stability and normalcy Wes might crave. A place in his complicated world that Mina could never truly occupy. She shoved her hands into her shorts pockets, the feeling a bitter, unwelcome taste in her mouth.
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Wes had just finished checking out their groceries, efficiently loading the bags into a neat stack on the bagging counter. The fluorescent supermarket lights hummed above the whirring conveyor belt.
He straightened up, his easy, domestic demeanor slipping into something focused and slightly distant. He looked at Mina.
"Okay, don't move from this spot for a minute," he instructed, glancing past her shoulder toward the mall corridor. "I need to hit the restroom before the drive home."
Mina, still preoccupied by her realization in the dairy aisle, only half listened. "Sure. Don't worry, I'll guard the chips with my life."
"I know you will," he said, giving her a quick, faint smile. He didn't wait for a reply, just pivoted and walked briskly away. Instead of heading toward the clearly marked restroom facilities however, Wes moved toward a less crowded side entrance that led to a small, nearly deserted service corridor. He leaned against the cool, concrete wall, pulling his phone out. A quick swipe and he dialed a secure contact, Willis.
The encrypted line clicked almost instantly.
"Willis," Wes said, his voice dropping to a low, concise tone that was all business.
"Got the address in your message, Chief." Willis's voice answered, sounding crisp and slightly digitized. "Anton Kuzmin, Cultural Attache. What do you want me to do with this guy, Wes?"
Wes glanced down the empty corridor, adjusting his grip on the phone. "I need you to deploy a team. Keep it discreet and do a snatch-and-grab. I think Kuzmin may know who sent Vasilyev to try and kill me."
"Understood. I'll have a team dispatched immediately. Do you want to handle the questioning yourself, or should my guys take care of him?"
Wes sighed, the sound barely audible. "Have your guys handle it. I gave Ivan my word that Anton would be able to report for work tomorrow morning. I might get carried away if I were to interrogate him myself."
There was a brief, dry chuckle on Willis's end of the line. "Yeah, I wouldn't want you to go Leatherface all over again. Brady, who was with you at the time, still has nightmares whenever he thinks about it."
"That was one time, and that narco bastard deserved every second of it after torturing and leaving our guys to die in the middle of the Amazon rainforest," Wes countered, a sharp edge entering his tone. The memory was a cold, hard knot in his gut.
"I never said he didn't. Just pointing out your flair for the dramatic," Willis conceded. "I'm genuinely amazed Ivan actually handed this guy over, though. Isn't he usually overprotective of his embassy personnel?"
Wes paused, as a supermarket staffer bowed his head, quickly passing by. "Well apparently there's no love lost there. Kuzmin bypassed the usual screening process and got in courtesy of Sokolov. I'm thinking there's a connection here. Probably a Bratva plant inside the embassy, taking advantage of the diplomatic cover for all sorts of illicit things."
"Ah, that would explain it. So are we confirming Vasilyev really was sent by the Bratva to ice you?"
"Not exactly. According to Ivan, this guy Anton has been circulating a story that Vasilyev went rogue," Wes explained, his brow furrowed in skepticism. "How Kuzmin knows that is the information we need to extract."
"Roger that. I'll have our guys lean on him and contact you as soon as we pull anything meaningful out of him."
"Do it quick," Wes replied. "The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets."
The call ended. Wes stood for a moment longer in the echoing silence of the corridor, the cheerful noise of the supermarket muted behind the heavy fire door. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his mind already cycling through a mental list of old enemies and business rivals.
With a deep breath that seemed to calm the focus in his eyes, Wes pushed off the wall and began walking back toward the bright, ordinary reality of his niece and a cart full of groceries. The transformation was instant, the cold operative giving way to the relaxed, slightly teasing uncle.