Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)
Her Covert Protector: Chapter 10

“Hope this will hold you over until dinner is ready.”

Nadia glanced up from the screen, not quite sure what she was seeing. John was serving her chips and salsa. As far as she remembered, the guys were nothing this civilized. They always ate out of Styrofoam containers. Mostly it was Bristow who liked eating chips, and he usually had one of those single-serve packs you see out of a vending machine.

Chips and salsa? Her mind repeated. That was something she would expect at Gabby and Declan’s house. Although, from what she had heard, Gabby had joined Kelso in his shredding phase. So, no carbs.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.” Her eyes returned to the screen but doubted if she could get any work done because John perched on the slope of the armchair she was sitting in.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“I’m trying to see if there was an attack launched on our servers,” she said. “So far all looks good.” Right now, her brain wasn’t fully processing the case. She was still annoyed at John for not finding a way to leave her a message. She closed her laptop and set it on the table. Then she picked a tortilla chip, dipped it in salsa, and popped it into her mouth, chewing very slowly. John got off his perch by her side and sat on the coffee table.

“You’re pissed at me.”

“Geez, John, I wonder why that is.”

“You shouldn’t have wrecked the agency phone I gave you.”

“So sue me for not wanting to be at your beck and call … and stop looking at me like that.” He studied her as if she was a delicate puzzle he was trying to solve.

His brows shot to his hairline. “Like what?”

“Like you don’t want to hurt my feelings.” Her eyes slitted. “Wait. Are you assuming I’m already pregnant and I’m acting hormonal?”

He shrugged. “Just covering my bases.”

Hmm … she could milk this situation to get answers.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “I don’t trust that look in your eyes.”

“Like what?” And John saying ‘uh-oh’? Nadia was wondering if she was living in an alternate universe. Or could this be John in domesticated mode? Or was he using one of his practiced covers? Paranoid much, Powell?

“Like you discovered a way to flay me alive,” he continued, his expression wary.

“Just covering my bases.” She crunched away on more chips. “Why don’t you answer this? I’m curious why you don’t leave voice messages.”

His face shuttered. “It’s discouraged in our tradecraft.”

“But under extenuating circumstances, it’s not against any rulebook.”

“It’s bad practice and a habit I haven’t broken in thirteen—” John caught himself and cursed.

“Thirteen what? Months? Years?”

“Years,” he clipped.

“Did something happen?”

“Classified. Let’s just say a recording of my voice exposed my cover and nearly got my entire team killed.”

“I’m sorry, John.”

“In this job, you learn fast.”

“Okay. But I don’t see how leaving a message saying ‘the condom broke’ would constitute a national security threat.”

The mask cracked. Frustration mingled with humor in his eyes. “I would disagree,” he said.

“Oh? Explain.”

“Say someone is trying to break me, but me being me, that’s close to impossible.”

Nadia emitted a pfft sound. “Everyone has a breaking point.”

“You know what I noticed,” John said. “You don’t roll your eyes.”

“Uh … and that’s relevant, how?”

John shook his head and chuckled. “This getting to know you stage.”

“We were talking about a breaking point.” But Nadia was already seeing where John was going with this.

“If someone got a hold of my message to you. They would know that I deemed it important enough to leave such a message. If they held me prisoner, unable to torture any information out of me, they could say that they’d also captured you and that you’re pregnant with my child.”

“Leverage.”

“Exactly. What we think is inconsequential, the enemy has a way of twisting it to have big enough consequences that could be used against me. I may not care about myself, but I’d definitely care about the mother of my child and my unborn baby. You just don’t see it from my point of view …” His mouth hitched in one corner. “And now you’re staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.”

Nadia realized she was indeed squinting. “Wow, that’s some paranoia.”

“Life in the fast lane, babe.”

“Maybe you need to slow down.”

“Maybe I should get off the train,” John returned mildly.

She regarded him doubtfully. “You’ll never quit.”

He gave her a brief smile. “I’m going to check on dinner.”

Ha! Deflection again. She had his number now. If she didn’t know what he was capable of, she would think they’d entered a twilight zone. She didn’t know how to handle this John. She was used to bluntness from him. Not this treading-on-eggshells guy. But … she glanced behind her. He wasn’t in the kitchen. She exhaled an irritated breath. He said he was going to check on dinner. Where the hell did he go? Okay, this was more of the Garrison she knew. There was relief in knowing that. Nadia would hate it if a torn condom was the downfall of this badass CIA operative.

He came down the stairs with something in his hand.

Shit.

He approached her and held out a phone. “Since you insist I leave you voice messages, I thought you’d want another one.”

Nadia grabbed the device from him. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Huh, if someone has commitment issues, it certainly isn’t me.”

Speechless, she wondered who was this John that returned from two weeks away. Squinting, she realized he look more weary than she’d ever seen him. Thinner? His cheekbones sharper? It was hard to tell with his beard.

John chuckled. “If you could see your face.”

She stepped into his space, reached up, pinched his cheek, and then pulled at the flesh. Had the CIA perfected the full facial disguises common in Hollywood espionage films?

“Hey,” he protested.

“Who are you and what have you done to John Garrison?”

“Come here.” He reeled her into his arms. “It’s still me.” An emotion flashed through his eyes. “Just did a bit of reprioritizing, that’s all.”

“While you were on the trail of the Argonayts?”

John released her and headed toward the kitchen. “That pot pie smells good.”

Nadia didn’t press, assuming that his mission was classified.

“It’s been barely in there for ten minutes.”

He peeked into the oven.

“Stop opening that. You’re going to let the heat out,” Nadia grumbled. She was hungry and she didn’t want chips; she wanted that pot pie. She yanked him away from the oven and their bodies collided. He gripped her elbows, steadying her.

Their eyes locked. His grew heated. Okay, Nadia was feeling warm too, and she was feeling it between her legs. Damn him. Would she always want to jump him?

“I can think of a way to pass the time,” he murmured, his head lowering to kiss her.

Nadia pushed away and stalked back to the living room. “No, John.”

“We could be pregnant,” he called behind her back.

She pointed at him with the hand holding the phone he gave her. “Why are you being so … so”—ugh, with John, she couldn’t even find the right words—“so unconcerned about this?”

“You said it’s an unlikely possibility, so why can’t we make a joke about it?”

“It’s not something to joke about.” She paused. “Wait, is this your way of coping? Are you afraid to become a father?” It certainly didn’t fit his lifestyle.

John chuckled. “Now you’re projecting. Stop psychoanalyzing.”

“Psychoanalyze you?” she scoffed. “I’d be terrified of what I might find in that brain of yours.”

John muttered something like ‘compartments.’

“Compartments?”

His eyes flashed with annoyance. “You’re right. You wouldn’t want to see what’s inside my brain.”

“That scary, huh?”

“Very,” he said gravely, and even when there was mirth in his eyes, Nadia wasn’t sure if it was dark humor. Spies had morbid ways of seeing things.

She moved closer, and his expression grew wary. “Have you ever been to see a CIA shrink?”

“Many times.”

“Oh.”

“What? You think I’d deny it?”

“That’s good,” she said faintly. “You must see a lot of shitty things in your job.”

He glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “It’s going to take another half hour. Why don’t you go freshen up?”

“I have no clothes.”

“You can borrow mine.”

Christ. The urge to kiss Nadia was excruciating to resist, so John had to send her elsewhere. There was no denying that he missed her. Craved her. There was something to be said about knowing what mattered most when you were faced with your own mortality. He’d long made peace that his mother might never find out the truth in case he was killed in an op. It depended on how the agency would cover it up. He left a letter with Kade just in case something did happen to him.

Was he ready to make the same provisions for Nadia? No, because he wanted to pursue a life with her. It was the biggest mission of his life right now, except there was real fear of the unknown. The unknown being these weird emotions rattling inside him.

He certainly didn’t want to make excuses as to why he didn’t return that Monday. He should have known better than to make that promise given what he did for a living. Although getting captured by the Ukrainian mob and thrown into their dark dungeon was certainly reason enough to miss the date.

He’d been gritting his teeth all night, trying not to wince when his bruised ribs screamed. John had been through worse and was just glad that he survived with all his limbs and appendages intact.

The mob hated to be put in the spotlight. The bioweapon plot that had been linked to the Ukrainian Brotherhood was still too fresh in people’s minds, and the death of CIA operatives wasn’t good for business. However, nabbing John and Bristow and stowing them away meant the agency was getting close to the truth. There was something bigger at play that the Order was planning. Or maybe the Argonayts were planning something below the Order’s radar. A side job.

And it had everything to do with the Crown-Key.

As for Garrison, it served his purpose. His plans for Nadia were singular. There was something about her that had him coming back for more. And, in a few days, they might be tied together forever.

Or maybe not.

The timer dinged. The pot pie was finally done.

He reached into the oven, the aroma of buttery crust assailed his nose. An odd nostalgia pricked at his chest. A time when he’d come home from football practice and his mother would have a whole tray of this just out of the oven.

Shuffling behind him made him turn.

“That smells good,” Nadia said.

He’d momentarily forgotten about dinner. She was standing in his shirt and nothing else. Her hair was piled up in a towel, her feet bare.

He cursed and strode past her and double-timed it up the staircase to the hallway closet that held emergency supplies. Usually, he’d just point the operatives where to look, but hell, apparently with Nadia he felt compelled to do this.

John rummaged through the slipper supply. They were decent looking, made of soft and strong rubber. He remembered the guys saying they were durable enough to run in. Grabbing two of different sizes, he headed down and back to the kitchen.

“I think you’re more a six than a seven.”

Nadia was giving him that look again like he’d grown an extra head. He went down on his knees and tried a pair of them on her feet, brushing the dirt from her sole before slipping them on.

“John.”

It was the right size. A smug grin started to form on his mouth.

“John!”

He glanced up.

“Stop treating me like I’m already pregnant.”

His brows drew together. “I’m not.”

She shook her head and left him kneeling on the floor. “Well, I’m hungry.” Opening and closing the cabinets, she asked, “Where are the plates?”

Before he could answer her, she found them on the shelves above his collection of Scotch and out of her reach.

John got up from the floor and went to the sink to wash his hands. Toweling them dry, he approached behind Nadia, feeling her stiffen. She was skittish of his advances, but the tension rolling off her informed him she wasn’t as immune as she was letting on. John grinned, leaning closer and brushing up against her back as he reached above her. “These need washing. I don’t remember the last time I’ve used dishes.”

He laid the plates beside her on the counter and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around. She leaned back, her mouth curled into a smile. “I see where your priorities are.”

“What can I say? I like Scotch.”

He stared at her mouth and heard her breathing hitch. John was tempted to skim his hands down her sides. It would be so easy to slip his fingers under the shirt she was wearing … and squashed his imagination viciously when it went into the direction of what she was not wearing.

Her lips pursed together and then she very firmly pushed him away and grabbed the plates. The sound of the water started. John didn’t immediately turn around as he willed himself to regain control. The look on Nadia’s face caused unease to knot in his gut. She was actively rebuffing him.

“Let’s eat,” she said.

John faced her and they stared at each other across the counter. Before he could utter a word, she held up a hand and said, “I thought about this in the shower.”

He grinned faintly. “I probably shouldn’t have sent you to take a shower.”

“John—”

“Don’t over think this right now.”

“I just want to be clear about something …”

John held his tongue. It was so instinctive for him to override any objections to his agenda. And he had quite an agenda planned for Nadia, but instinct told him she wasn’t in a receptive mood. He ground his molars.

“No matter what happens, whether I’m pregnant or not, nothing changes.”

“You have to be clearer about that, babe.”

“You and I are done.”

His jaw hardened. “You don’t think I’m going to abandon my kid.”

“No. No. Nothing like that. We’ll co-parent,” she exhaled heavily. “And that’s as far as I’m discussing right now. I don’t want this to be a reason for us to fall back into bed and pick up where we left off.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I told you that I was coming back that Monday which meant there was still something to discuss between us.”

“But you didn’t return—”

John chuckled darkly. “Believe me, babe. There were extenuating circumstances.”

“I’m sure there were, but remember what I said about not wanting your scraps?”

Goddammit. This woman. John wanted to sit her down and shake some sense into her.

“That hasn’t changed—despite this new development,” Nadia finished. She nodded to the table. “Now let’s have dinner.”

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