Ride or Burn...
The moment she slid into the backseat of my armored SUV, the air between us shifted. Dense. Loaded. Electric.
I shot a glance at the rearview, caught her watching the street like she hadn't just turned my blood to wildfire.
One knock on the window and one of my men climbed into her car to follow us. I gave a slight nod to the driver, and the convoy rolled out.
I didn't say anything at first. Just looked. Let it sink in. Naomi. Alive. In the same space as me. Her scent jasmine and danger. Her skin glowing under the moonlight slicing through tinted glass. Her silence? Infuriating.
I pulled my phone and shot off a quick text.
> To: Director Langley
Subject: Asset Secured.
Your ghost is in our hands. Meet us at the drop. Coordinates attached.
Then I looked at her, voice calm but low. "Where the hell have you been?"
She turned her head slowly, lips pulling into that maddening smirk. "Around."
"That's not an answer."
She shrugged, leaning slightly, thighs brushing mine. "And yet... it's the only one you're getting."
The contact jolted something in me. I'd fought wars. Killed kings. Stared death down without blinking. But this woman, she was the only force that ever made me feel out of control.
Our hands brushed.
Fuck.
It was small. Bare. Fleeting. But it felt like a fuse had been lit somewhere deep in my spine. Her fingers didn't move. Neither did mine. Then we both looked down. Then at each other.
The tension wasn't just sexual. It was carnal. Violent. Like a grenade with the pin halfway pulled.
The driver cleared his throat and called out, "Sir... we're here."
I turned to the window. The warehouse sat like a ghost in the shadows old, rusted, forgotten. Exactly how I liked it. On the outside, it looked like a crime scene that time had given up on. Inside, though? Reinforced steel. Motion sensors, padded for noise cancellations, Torture-ready.
We pulled in. My men moved fast, dragging the unconscious MI6 agent from Naomi's trunk into the space. They tied him to a steel chair bolted to the floor.
I told them to keep watch.
Naomi stood beside me, eyes sharp. Then she leaned close, whispering, "Got a restroom?"
I nodded. "Upstairs. My office."
I led her up the metal staircase, keeping my eyes on her sway. And Jesus, did she sway. Every step up was a threat to my sanity. By the time we reached the top floor, I was one heartbeat away from losing every ounce of control I had left.
She stepped into the office, and I followed then slammed the door shut behind us.
My body moved on instinct. I gripped her waist, spun her around, and crushed her to the wall. My mouth claimed hers no hesitation. No mercy.
Her gasp was the first sound, but her response... fuck, her response was fire. Her hands were in my hair, her mouth matching every brutal, hungry stroke of mine. She let out a soft addictive moan, it was electrifying.
Her lips were addictive. Her taste, familiar and brand new. I broke the kiss for air, chest heaving.
"I missed you," I rasped against her lips.
She smiled, slightly breathless. "Hmm... seems like it."
I stepped back, just barely. Gave her room to breathe. "Restroom's through there."
She walked past me again, slower this time aware now of the weapon she was. And she wielded it like a queen.
By the time we returned downstairs, Langley had just pulled in.
He stepped out of the SUV, suited up and smiling like he wasn't knee-deep in global threats. "Michael," he greeted. Then his eyes landed on her. "Ah. Should've known you were on this too."
Naomi's mouth tilted. "A job for only the best."
He chuckled. "No argument there."
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "Why do you need him alive?"
Langley opened his mouth to respond, but the agent groaned then jolted awake in the chair, face battered, hands tied.
Game on.
We moved in. Langley led with the first question. I asked the second, but the agent t wasn't giving any useful response, just throwing insults like its will detar us from getting what we came for. I looked at Naomi? She didn't ask.
She walked up to the table. Picked a knife. Thin. Serrated. Beautiful.
The agent's eyes widened. "N-No... Firefox?"
Naomi tilted her head, amused. "So you've heard of me."
"I—I thought you were dead..."
She smiled. And then she started cutting.
One scream. Then another. I watched, half in awe, half in arousal. The control in her grip. The calculation in her cruelty. She was art.
When she pressed the knife against his throat and asked about the buyer, he finally cracked.
"Joe Daniels," he cried. "He's waiting for the data! The drive! In Brooklyn, warehouse near South Pier please!"
I stepped forward, searched the agent's pockets. Found the flash drive. Checked the serial MI6 grade. No mistake.
Langley took it with a nod, then looked at us both. "We'll take it from here. Thank you."
He gave me a shake. Naomi a wink. Then left with his men dragging the bleeding bastard behind.
But just before he walked out I caught sight of something under the table the agent had been tied to.
A burner phone.
Still warm.
Still active.
I pocketed it. Quiet. Without a word.
If this was related to Joe Daniel, then its connected to Segun… then we are playing in a bigger arena than Langley realized.
And I didn't like being late to the battle field.