Technical Risk

by Sidney Bristol

  But he couldn’t tell her that. In fact, he shouldn’t be thinking that.

  Diha hissed in pain.

  He pulled his hands back. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “What hurt?”

  “I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m fine.”

  “Diha.” He bent so he could look at her in the eyes. “Where does it hurt?”

  She glared back at him for a moment then lifted her hand. “Here.”

  He examined the spot. There was a little lump just covered by her hair. He hadn’t realized he’d pressed against it.

  “Just bruising and some swelling,” he said while his stomach tied in knots.

  “See, fine?”

  “You aren’t fine. You’re hurt.”

  “Okay. I’m hurt. Does that mean we aren’t going to talk about what happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She pulled his hand down so he got the full punch of both her eyes locked on him. “Valentino followed us and attacked us. Does that mean he knows who we are? How did you pay for the room?”

  “In cash with a government issued fake ID.”

  “What about your license plate?”

  “It shows up as being registered to the government. A cop’s car.”

  She let out a breath. “So there’s still a chance Valentino doesn’t know who we are then. That’s... That’s really good.”

  “How did he find us though? Did he follow us? Or the car? And if he followed the car, how long until he finds us here or somewhere else?” He’d parked in the detached garage, so they had some small protection that way, but it wasn’t enough.

  “What’s wrong?” Diha asked.

  “What do you mean?” She smoothed a hand back over her hair.

  “You just seem... I don’t know. Worried?”

  Miles leaned against the table. “I failed you. You got hurt on my watch.”

  “What?” Diha took his hand still clenched on the rag and held it. “Miles, none of this was your fault. And don’t open your mouth and try to argue with me over this. Was it scary? Yes. But if the worst thing is this scratch on my head, then we’re lucky.”

  He glanced down at the finger she’d almost jabbed him with.

  She let go of him and once more clasped her hands in her lap. “If I were a man or another field agent, would you be this concerned?”

  Miles glanced away.

  If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t be half as worried.

  “I see your point,” he said. “Let me finish this up.”

  Diha sat quietly, only wincing a little as he cleaned the cut then applied the steri-strips to hold the wound together.

  It was going to scar. He knew it and hated it.

  “There you go.” He backed up and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  The kitchen was too small. He was growing too fond of touching her. He needed space to think, not to mention reaching out to his team and superiors to inform them in greater detail about what had happened. They’d both made brief phone calls about the shooting, but more questions would have to be answered.

  Diha set her bag and phone on the table then went to the sink next to him and washed her hands. He could feel her eyes on him.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Miles turned his head and looked at her. He lifted a hand and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before he could think better of it. She remained perfectly still. Most of her make-up was gone and it was clear the day had worn on her, but she was still lovely to him.

  “Miles?” Her hand pressed against his chest.

  When had he turned to face her?

  “I... I should see about dinner.” And yet he didn’t move. He ran his fingers over her hair, following the strands to where they were woven into her braid.

  “O-okay,” she whispered.

  His gaze dipped to her mouth.

  There were a hundred reasons why he should march into the next room and avoid her. He couldn’t recall a single one of them right then. All he knew was that if something had gone wrong, she could have died. This beautiful, intelligent, brave woman wouldn’t be there. And that very thought had shaken him.

  “Miles?”

  “Yes?” His voice was more like a croak.

  “I’m going to need you to kiss me or—”

  He swallowed her words and the squeak of surprise. He kissed her like his next breath depended on it. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer until her curves molded to him. His fingers stroked her hair, holding the back of her head gently, all while his tongue made love to her. She held onto him, hands fisted in his shirt as if she were the one who wasn’t going to let him go.

  A phone blared.

  Miles started and Diha practically leaped away from him.

  For a moment they stared at each other. They were both breathing hard.

  There was more hair framing her face now. Her lips were glossy and her eyes somehow darker.

  “My phone,” she mumbled.

  “Answer it.” His voice was lower, rougher.

  She scooped the phone up and glanced at him. “It’s Zora.”

  Miles nodded and walked stiffly from the room, acutely aware of the fact that half his blood seemed to have rushed to his groin all of a sudden.

  “Hello? Zora?” Diha’s soft voice said.

  Part of him wanted to march in there, toss the phone in the garbage and carry her upstairs. The rest of him knew that was a very bad plan. It still sounded good to his ears.

  Christ.

  He’d kissed her. He’d actually done it.

  Guilt stabbed at him, not because of what he’d done, but because he wanted to do it again.

  She had told him to kiss her.

  He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, only the image of her looking at him like she was the one about to eat him was there, fueling his lust.

  Damn it, this couldn’t he happening right now.

  “Miles?”

  “Yeah?” He turned.

  Diha stood in the doorway, phone clutched between her hands. “Zora said they’ve gone over the room and someone’s going to bring our stuff to us. They’re already on their way.”

  And would likely be arriving soon. They’d likely have questions.

  “Okay. Let’s... We should eat and be ready,” he said.

  Diha nodded, but her expression, the way she held herself, gave away nothing further. Was she relieved? Or disappointed?

  8.

  Wednesday. MI5 Safe House. Brighton, United Kingdom.

  Diha blew out a breath as Miles shut the front door behind the policemen. She sagged into the armchair, the tension leech out of her.

  She’d never been the focus of a question-and-answer session with cops like that before. Her experience was always as an expert, advising and informing. It was unsettling to be on the other side. Doing it alone had made it worse.

  They’d separated her and Miles from the very beginning.

  She hadn’t liked that.

  Of course she understood the reasons why. They’d fled a crime scene. There had been shots fired, though she couldn’t remember Miles shooting at the man. If he had, she’d missed it in the rush of everything else.

  She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Funny how tonight had gone from extreme highs to lows, one right after another.

  She’d been terrified and thrilled to be out in the field with Miles. There was the high of what they’d found coupled with that look Miles had given her in the room. Then the attack. And the kiss, followed by the cops.

  Oh, God, that kiss...

  Her lips tingled.

  Diha lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

  Had she ever been kissed so thoroughly? So passionately?

  While her love life had been lackluster as of late, it wasn’t like she was a virgin. There was an art to dancing around the fact that she lived at home and maintaining her own life outside
of her family bubble. In fact, Diha’s sisters had been instrumental in assisting her with her parent dodging. It was something they did for each other, though Priya pushed it.

  Still, she didn’t think her short list of memorable boyfriends had anything on Miles. Then again, who could?

  Miles’ footsteps were the loudest sound in the house.

  She peered left as he walked toward her, then to her other side and on into the kitchen.

  The cops had allowed them the chance to eat while they spoke, so her stomach was no longer trying to gnaw at her spleen. She wouldn’t be opposed to a snack. This day had taken a lot out of her.

  Funny, Miles hadn’t spoken or really looked at her lately.

  Her mind played the last few hours back to her like a flipbook.

  She sank down farther in the chair as heat clawed its way up her neck. It was so intense her eyes started to water. She pressed her knuckles over her mouth so hard she felt the ridges against her gums.

  Miles hadn’t looked directly at her since before the kiss. Since she’d told him to kiss her. Even when they’d thrown together dinner, they’d been occupied with their own thoughts.

  Had she misinterpreted things?

  The way they’d been staring at each other, the kiss, she’d felt stripped. As if he were looking into her soul and knew her heart’s desire. The meaning had finally seemed plain to her. Before that moment she’d convinced herself she was making up those meaningful looks full of lust, but tonight...

  Had she seen what she wanted to see?

  A cabinet shut with a soft bang in the kitchen.

  Her gaze went to the door. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him moving around.

  For a few blessed seconds there she’d been proud of herself. Before this year, she’d have never told a man to kiss her. She wouldn’t have dreamed of being so forward. But she’d learned a lot about speaking her mind when it came to working under Zora and with the team. Diha was getting used to her voice, and she’d taken it a step too far.

  Or had she?

  She just didn’t know now.

  Miles’ steps neared the door.

  Panic clawed it’s away up her body.

  She couldn’t look at him. Not now that she was unsure of what had happened.

  Her head throbbed and her throat tightened.

  She should escape upstairs. Going to bed would at least give her privacy to die in peace. Or at least wish she were dying.

  Miles’ steps stopped.

  She peered sideways out of the corner of her eye, but couldn’t see him.

  This was her chance.

  Now before she had to face him again.

  Diha pushed to her feet. She could grab her suitcase and hoof it upstairs. She’d trained for this sort of thing. It was basic parental avoidance techniques.

  She tip-toed to where their bags had sat untouched since arriving. There’d been no sense in bringing her large luggage, so she’d thrown the essentials into her carry on. She was extra glad that she’d done that now. Carefully she hoisted the suitcase up and over Miles’ things and turned for the stairs.

  A large figure filled the doorway to the kitchen, his brooding frown sucking up all the light in the room.

  Diha didn’t exactly jump. No, she went still, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

  So much for escaping upstairs to wallow in embarrassment by herself.

  She’d seen him.

  She couldn’t exactly proceed and pretend as if she hadn’t. That might have been believable if she hadn’t frozen.

  There was nothing to do but face him.

  Diha slowly pivoted and prayed her face didn’t give everything away.

  Their gazes locked for the first time in hours and her stomach began doing cartwheels.

  “I’m going to head up,” she said despite the sudden dryness in her mouth.

  She couldn’t tell anything from the way he looked at her. His brows were slightly drawn down, creating little wrinkles. The rest of him was stony, giving away nothing.

  He took a step toward her. “Let me carry that for you.”

  She glanced down at the red suitcase. “You don’t have to. I’ve got this.”

  Miles was there by the time she got the words out. If it weren’t for the bags at her back, she’d have edged away from him, but he had her trapped.

  He slid his fingers around the handle and her fingers.

  “It’s my job,” he said softly and lifted the suitcase out of her grasp.

  “I seriously doubt it’s your job to be the bellboy.”

  He sighed and the corners of his mouth curved up. “Days like today that doesn’t seem like a bad gig.”

  He had a point, though that thought quickly fled her brain as the slight smile transformed his face. With his hair messy and his rumpled, casual clothes, he looked...inviting. Tempting.

  She could count on one hand and have fingers left over when it came to counting his elusive smiles. They were rare things. Beautiful.

  God, she just wanted to get into her room and lock herself up for a few hours. In the morning, after some rest, she’d be better equipped to deal with everything.

  Diha turned, placed a hand on the banister and began climbing the stairs. She was acutely aware of Miles’ presence at her back. It was probably her imagination, but she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her.

  Wishful thinking, no doubt.

  If only there were someone who could tell her what to do next.

  Cat would be no help. Her suggestion would be to jump on Miles.

  Priya was good with men, but in a way Diha would never be comfortable with.

  Oddly, Harper was the person who’d most likely understand her, but he was spending tonight in a cell.

  At the top of the stairs, Diha hesitated. She hadn’t been up here yet.

  Miles slipped past her. “The master bedroom’s been made into an office. I think you’ll be most comfortable in here.”

  Great.

  She followed him down the narrow hall to a bedroom at the back corner of the house. He opened the door and proceeded her into it.

  The bedroom was sparsely furnished with what looked like an antique bed, wardrobe and desk set all from the same honey colored wood. Blue floral curtains were drawn over the windows. A pastoral painting hung over the desk, the blue in the sky and a pond echoing the blue in the curtains and comforter.

  “Thanks,” Diha said, unsure what else she could say to him at this point.

  He set the suitcase on the desk, positioning it so that it was perfectly in the middle, then turned.

  She wasn’t sure where to go or what to say. Before, reaching the safety of a bedroom had seemed a logical place to bolt, but not if he was there with her.

  “How’s your head feeling?” he asked.

  Right now it was swirling in confusion, which only made it ache.

  “Fine,” she lied. Her ailment wasn’t anything he could fix.

  He kept looking at her, though the smile dimmed a bit. “I want to talk about earlier, but I’m not sure what to say.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” she blurted. In fact, she’d prefer it if they didn’t.

  “Not talking about it is my problem.” There was a slight shift in his gaze. It seemed to grow...warmer?

  Diha licked her lips but said nothing. She’d embarrassed herself enough for one day. First she’d caught her hem in the door, all of those moments in the car and then the kiss earlier...

  “At first I didn’t realize we’d worked together before this week, but the more I’m around you the more I remember you.”

  “I was very new to the team back then,” she mumbled.

  Miles studied her for a few moments. He didn’t try to hide it. He just looked at her.

  Diha wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. A sudden death would be preferable to whatever this was.

  He leaned back against the desk, gripping the edge with both hands. “This is the part w
here I should tell you I’m sorry for kissing you, that it wasn’t proper.”

  Her mind went quiet.

  What was he trying to say?

  She opened and closed her mouth as his words replayed themselves a dozen times.

  “Oh.” She blinked at him, some of the meaning finally sinking into her abused brain.

  One brow arched and he chuckled. “Oh?”

  “What am I supposed to say?” She waved her hands, unsure what she should do with any part of her body right now. “I don’t know what this part is.”

  “What was the last part of your sentence?”

  “What sentence?”

  “I quote, I’m going to need you to kiss me or...?”

  Diha’s jaw dropped and her mind went blank.

  “Or what?” Miles asked.

  He was most definitely smiling at her now, and unless she was mistaken, he was enjoying her discomfort. That realization sparked her anger. She was done being the butt of jokes.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him, channeling a bit of Zora for confidence. “I don’t know what I was going to say. It was the heat of the moment.”

  “Would you have kissed me if I hadn’t kissed you?” He tilted his head slightly.

  Her mind was blank. It resembled a whiteboard, empty of everything. Especially the answer to his question.

  “I don’t know,” she confessed.

  Kissing him wasn’t exactly like her. She was better about speaking her mind these days, but when it came to men and relationships, she’d always been the kind of girl who followed a man’s lead. Blame it on her shyness or her nerves, it was just the way she was wired.

  “Would you have asked me to leave?” he asked.

  “What? No.”

  “Would you have—”

  “I don’t like this game,” she blurted. “I don’t like you laughing at me.”

  The smile evaporated, leaving behind the familiar serious face she’d come to expect from him.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you. I didn’t mean to make you think that.” He straightened, but didn’t move from the desk. “I like you, Diha. I wanted to kiss you, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Now, I’m not sure...”