The Trapped Assassin
By SarahsSupplyCloset
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Hope you all still enjoy it anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK. I don't make money writing CHUCK fan fiction.
She busied herself with turning the shower on with her free hand, the other still holding onto Chuck, squeezing for dear life. She felt like such a mess. She was holding onto him in a vise-grip for reassurance because she was afraid of him. How did that make any sense?
It really wasn't him, though. It was the shell that was still protecting her, paranoia about human nature, an intense awareness of her own emotional frailties. She just wanted to be wrapped up in his arms, and that was scary in its own right. But to have that while standing in the one place she'd told herself she'd never bring anyone with her?
The shower on, she turned back to face him and took him in. His damp extra curly dark hair, the handsome, earnest face beneath it with those golden-hued eyes that were currently soft and open and a little unsure.
She stepped up against him and slipped her fingers under his T-shirt, before twisting her fists in the hem and pulling it up and off of him. He raised his arms over his head and let her, grinning as she draped it over the corner of the counter.
Sarah got rid of her flimsy cover-up as well, both of them standing in only their swimsuits. She reached back and felt the water temperature. It was perfect. So she moved to her tiptoes and placed a slow kiss against his jaw, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.
And then she let go of him and went into the shower.
Sarah took a few deep breaths as she stepped into the shower first, moving into the spray and drowning her head in the hot water. She'd been a little chilled in her damp suit, what with the sun going away, the breeze becoming wind, and the rainstorm starting.
But she felt his presence then as he stepped in after her.
She also felt his tentativeness even though her eyes were shut tight and she was facing away from him.
It was almost as if he was feeding off of the nervous energy she hoped she wasn't projecting. If she was projecting that, she was sorry for it. But she'd just let a man into the shower with her and a lot was happening inside of her at once. She knew she wasn't in danger. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't attack her. But that survivalist nature in her was screaming, she had to protect herself, keep her guard up. And then at the same time, there was the implication of all of it.
It was more than just a big deal that she was letting him into the shower with her.
And the trust that required.
But also, put in the simplest terms, it was a clear sign that she cared more about Chuck Bartowski than she'd cared about anyone in her life, and she'd only known him for a little over two weeks.
She took one more deep breath and turned, stepping out of the jet and smoothing her hands over her hair.
When she blinked her eyes open, Chuck was just watching her quietly, taking her in while still clad in his swim trunks. She saw that awe in his face, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was here with her, or vice versa. He wasn't the only one.
She thought if he was anyone else, this never would've happened, none of this would've ever happened. But because of who he was, the kind of man he was, the kind of person he was, she stepped up against his front and wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his chest. When he hugged her back, his arms tight around her shoulders, she nuzzled him with her nose and buried herself further in his embrace.
She clung to him like she would a lifesaver in a raging sea. There was a hitch in his breath and she had a bad feeling he could tell something was wrong, that he was going to ask if she was okay.
But he didn't. Instead, he stepped forward, forcing her back into the shower spray. She squeaked and cracked up, pulling at the laughing man and spinning them around so that he was stuck under it, careful to make sure he didn't hit his head on the spout in the meantime, what with how tall he was.
Chuck grabbed her hands then and turned them one more time, even going so far as to force her to turn towards the water so that it blasted her in the face. "No!" she yelled, laughing and trying to lean out of the spray. He had a tight grip around her, his arms encasing not just her torso, but trapping her own arms to her sides.
Sarah leaned forward so that her face was out of the water, but that forced Chuck's face into the spray and he yelped, blowing a raspberry into her upper back as punishment.
It made her squeal again as she broke his grip and sidestepped his reach, moving around in back of him, away from danger. She was still laughing as he stood to his full height and turned to face her, reaching up to vigorously rustle his curls and shoot water every which way.
Sarah giggled, and she didn't even think about the nerves, almost as if the impromptu wrestling and teasing had caused them to dissipate altogether.
She reached up to push her hand through his curls that were still so soft even when they were sopping wet. The way his eyelids fluttered as if it felt amazing having her fingers in his hair was so genuine and adorable. Her only option was to brace her other hand on his shoulder and pull herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.
She got a little lost in the kiss, and when he stepped back again so that they were both pelted by the water, she squealed and laughed against his lips, smacking his shoulder as she pulled away and wiped the water from her eyes.
And then that shiver of nerves went through her again, and she shut them down immediately, a quick reaction that came from both her gut and her heart. She hugged him. She hugged him tightly, clinging, burying her face in his neck. He hugged her back, and he must've felt the shiver wrack her body, because his lips were at her ear, and above the roar of the water, he breathed, "You ok?"
Sighing, she nodded, and pulled back to look up into his face. His shoulders and back were being pelted by the shower spray, having an incredible impact on the appeal of his tall, lithe form. His shoulders were really nice with the water spilling down over them, and his chest, the water dribbling down both of their torsos as they were still pressed flush against one another. "I just had a chill…being in the water and then not—you better not do what I see in your face that you're about to do."
She'd spotted the mischievous glint. But she'd caught him in time and he merely raised his hands up innocently next to his shoulders. "I don't know what you mean."
Giggling, she called him a jerk and pulled at the tie of her bikini top, taking it off. She grabbed the bar of soap, starting to rub it between her hands so that she could begin washing her body. She stepped away from him and the jet a little so that she could suds up, but she felt him watching. And maybe 30 seconds passed before she glanced at him over her shoulder and bit her lip. "What?"
He must've sensed some of her hesitation in the beginning, because he cleared his throat and spoke up tentatively. "May I?"
She was genuinely confused, and then his eyes flicked down to the soap and he slowly picked it up between his fingers, licking his lips. She looked at the soap too and her eyes widened. "What, that? I mean, this?" She gestured to her body.
He merely nodded. "I get it if not. Kind of a stay out of my bubble thing."
He was right. It was a stay out of my bubble thing. Men had touched her body before. She'd let them touch her. Granted, none of them with as much skill, precision, or meaning as Chuck had. This felt very different from that. A takeover of sorts of something that was so incredibly private.
But she nodded anyways, her eyes still wide. And to his credit, he still paused before touching her, waiting for her to nod a second time, with a bit more resolve this time.
Nobody had ever touched her the way Chuck Bartowski had, and now that went tenfold as he set his soapy hands to her shoulders and began to rub them, slowly, deliciously. It was like a massage with warm suds, his fingers pressing in exactly the right spots that made her eyelids flutter. And then he moved both hands to her left arm, rubbing soap up and down it, cradling it gently in his grip as he went. And when he got to her hand, he let the water douse it before he brought it up to his mouth, pressing his lips to her palm.
She lost her breath, just staring at him as he set his determined gaze and efforts to her other arm, similarly setting a kiss to that palm.
His hands graced her sides, her stomach and abdomen, slipped around to her lower back, and then her upper back, having to step close so that her soap-covered midsection pressed against his. Finally, he cupped her breasts, and her head fell back at how good it felt to have him massaging them just as skillfully as he had her arms. But this felt a lot better. He flicked her nipples, then pulled her forward to let the water rinse her front, and just like that, he leaned down to close his mouth around one of her nipples, flicking it with his tongue as he sucked it between his teeth.
Sarah cursed under her breath, and suddenly felt him reach around her. The bar of soap was pressed to the small of her back, just over her ass, rubbing gentle circles over her skin, and then he set the soap back on the shelf and began to massage her ass cheeks, even as he continued to pay attention to her breasts with his mouth, switching back and forth between them.
It was when he finally lowered himself to his knees before her, the water cascading down onto his dark curls, his neck, shoulders, chest…blinking the water out of his eyes…that she felt something serious go off behind her ribcage, a trigger or something. There was definitely lust. She couldn't and wouldn't deny that. It coursed through her like a raging river, her blood so heated it was practically boiling.
But it was deeper than that, even. She felt it and knew it for what it might be.
She wanted this man.
Not just in the physical sense.
She wanted him in her life. She wanted more moments like this. The intense intimacy that eclipsed the lust. A desire that settled in her heart rather than the spot between her legs.
He began to soap up her thigh in his large hands, his capable fingers doing miraculous things to her muscles.
No, nobody had ever touched her like this. Nobody had ever tried to. But if they did, she'd never let them. And there was a reason for that.
She'd never been in love before.
And maybe she wasn't in love here, either. She didn't know anything about love. But she could assume things about it, and all assumptions pointed to love. Because if this wasn't love, what was?
Sarah let out a rough breath and sank to her knees, not caring if he was finished or not. The water poured over both of them as she kissed him, cupping his face. He seemed surprised for a few moments, and then he let out a soft groan and cradled her face in his hands as well, kissing her back.
She knew she'd made love to Chuck Bartowski before, many times in these last two weeks. But never with this understanding having settled itself in her breast.
She didn't wonder if it would be different, as focused as she was on him, on the way he held her, the heat of the water combining with the heat of his body so close to hers.
But it was different…
As she gently guided him to sit in the middle of the shower, his eyes a little wide at the quick escalation of things, something just felt different. Maybe he had no idea, maybe it still felt the same to him.
She slipped the bottoms of her bikini down her legs and watched as he pushed his swim trunks off as well, kicking them into a bunch at the corner of the shower.
When she straddled him and knelt over him to reach down and take his cock in her fingers, stroking up and down his length, he made the same sounds he had before when she'd done this. The soft whimper of her name, the desperate sighs. But as she sank onto him once he was hard enough, not stopping until her full weight sat in his lap, there was something different inside of her.
The sound of his name on her lips was different as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his ear. "Oh, Chuck…" she breathed, and she heard it there.
And she began to thrust her hips, gyrating with him deep inside of her, digging her nails in his upper back as the adrenaline and pleasure began to build.
The water spilled over their bodies as she rode him, reaching back to brace her hand on his thigh just above his knee, the other holding on tight to his shoulder. With him as deep as possible, she started to jerk her hips hard, throwing her head back as he groaned loudly.
And they continued that way, on the floor of the shower, Sarah alternating between bucking wildly in his lap, and clinging to him in a tight hug with easy, swaying, shallow thrusts.
It wasn't the greatest surface for her knees, but she kept going. He let her hear his pleasure, so she let him hear hers.
When she felt her climax approaching, the need for it was overwhelming, so much so that she reached up over his shoulder to brace her right palm against the wall behind him and grabbed onto the seat beside them with her left hand, using both as leverage to begin bouncing on him.
"Sarah!" his rough voice groaned. "Oh my God!"
All he could do was curl his fingers around her waist and hold on, his mouth open in ecstasy as he threw his head back, the water falling down onto his face.
When her climax finally hit, she cried out, stopped bouncing and instead sat heavily on his cock, grinding her hips to make it last.
They finally stilled and just held onto to one another, the spray still hitting them both, dousing them, and she shut her eyes tightly, fighting back the rush of emotions.
What had he done to her?
When she'd composed herself, she took a deep breath and gently pulled herself up out of his lap, letting him help her to her slightly wobbly feet. He stood up as well. But before he could grab the soap and start washing himself, she smirked and pushed him so that his back was pinned to the wall. And then she took the soap from his hand and held it up between them, wiggling it along with her eyebrows. "Don't worry, Chuck. I promise not to miss a spot."
He bit his lip and groaned as she slowly kissed her way down his body, soap trailing after her lips, and then she had him in her mouth, and she stayed there for a while, until he carefully pulled her head back with his fingers twisted in her hair at the back of her head, and he guided her back to her feet before he turned them and pinned her to the wall this time.
She didn't know how long they'd been in the shower by the time he slung her leg over his arm and entered her with a wanton gasp of her name.
She was trapped against the wall, only one leg at her disposal, her hand clutched in his other fist and pinned up by her head, in one of the most vulnerable positions she could be in, in one of the most vulnerable places she could be in. Within a half hour, she'd gone from forcefully refusing to ever let anyone into a shower with her, to this.
And she enjoyed every damn second of it.
Chuck was relentless, bringing her to orgasm two more times before she finally felt him reach his own finish inside of her, his body shuddering against hers, shoulders shaking under her tight grip.
The shower was turned off eventually, and they wrapped themselves up in fluffy towels. Chuck left the bathroom while she dried her hair, the towel still tied shut over her chest. As she padded out into the bedroom, she saw that he'd put boxers and a T-shirt on. He also held another pair in his hand, and a button-up shirt. Those he offered to her when he saw her come into the room.
She paused, then giggled and closed the distance, taking both from him. "Thank you."
"Sure. Didn't think you'd want to wear a wet bikini."
As she pulled the towel off and stepped into the boxers, rolling them a few times to keep them from falling off of her hips altogether, she noticed that Chuck was busying himself in his own suitcase in a way that had his back to her. A small gesture of privacy.
He turned back around halfway through her buttoning up the shirt and his eyes stalled on her figure, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. She smirked at him and shook her head. Even with it buttoned up all the way, the neckline was deep, and his eyes managed to wander there too for a moment before he turned his head and scratched behind his ear.
She giggled at the way the sleeves went well past her hands as she lowered her arms to her side. "This is pretty cute, huh?" she asked, beaming.
With a chuckle, he came over and took her arm, unbuttoning the cuff and rolling it a bit so that she could see her fingers again. He did the same on the other side and nodded once. "There. Better?"
"Thank you," she said, amusement in her eyes. "Though it really wasn't all that necessary for you to give me this, considering I'm just getting into bed anyways." And she crawled onto the bed to emphasize it, going so far as to slip under the covers and make a show of getting comfortable.
"Making yourself at home, aren't you?"
"Yep!" she chirped, making him laugh. She was pleased at the teasingly thoughtful look he got on his face then before he his mouth widened into that giant grin of his and he hurried around the bed to crawl into it with her.
She laughed and tried to scoot away from him as he crashed into her, his arms winding around her and trapping her against him. She managed to squirm so that her back was against his front, and he cuddled close, spooning her from behind.
They were quiet for a while, listening to the rain pouring outside, pelting the balcony to his suite. And Sarah thought Chuck might've fallen asleep until he shifted so that his lips pressed against her hairline at the back of her neck.
"I have to say, it's a lot nicer being inside during a Mediterranean rainstorm rather than outside."
She smiled as that brought to mind the day-long trip they'd taken together, getting caught in the rain and having to take refuge before they went back to the rental car. "I agree. But I like rain. I've just decided that right now actually. I really like rain."
"Why?" he asked in genuine curiosity.
"I don't know. It's…cleansing." She sighed. "After a rainstorm, everything feels so refreshed and…clean. New."
"Like a rebirth?" he asked.
"No." Sarah shook her head. "Not exactly. It…This sounds silly but it gets rid of the dirt and grime on the leaves, washes away the…" The corruption. She thought it but she couldn't say it out loud. "Well, it cleans the pavement, the streets."
"Mmm that's true." He snuggled closer, nuzzling the underside of her jaw with his nose. "And everything smells all wet and fresh after."
Sarah sighed again and slid her hands down his arms that encircled her torso, folding her fingers over his and letting her eyes shut. Yes, she liked rain. She loved rain.
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The rain had lessened to a pleasant drizzle when she opened her eyes a half hour later, but Chuck's arms were still wrapped around her, cuddling up against her back. She knew he was still asleep. She heard his heavy, even breathing, his breath fluttering her hair at the back of her neck in a way that gave her a chill.
Sarah spotted her bikini in the corner of the room, draped over the arm of a chair, her cover-up having fallen onto the floor beneath it.
She imagined Chuck had done that after she'd fallen asleep, taking their wet things and hanging them to dry before he crawled back into bed with her.
She needed clothes. Not Chuck's clothes, as comfortable as they were. But her own. And she needed food, too.
Now that the spell that had overtaken her in the shower had worn off, she felt a little brittle. She didn't have any regrets. None at all. Letting Chuck in as much as she had wasn't a mistake. She knew that.
But she still felt like something big had happened, a change had occurred inside of her. And she needed to deal with that alone, in the safety of her own suite.
So she very carefully extricated herself from Chuck's arms and snuck across the room. She picked up her bikini that was still cool and a little damp to the touch, deciding she didn't want to do away with the warmth of Chuck's clothes to put on something cold, and she scooped her cover-up from the floor, before sneaking out of the suite and heading for the elevator.
As she turned the corner, she heard the ding of the elevator, the whoosh of the doors opening.
And before she could do anything to get out of sight, both Ellie and Devon stepped into view.
Ellie saw her first, her laughter catching in her throat immediately. She stopped and boggled at Sarah. And it was all she could do not to just sink into the ground and die forever.
"Um. Hi. Hey there." She tugged a bit at the hem of Chuck's boxers, completely aware of how she looked. The hope had been that she get back to her suite without seeing anyone, let alone Chuck's sister and future brother-in-law.
Devon just burst into laughter, and received death glares from both of the women. He barely contained it, blushing, trying to cover his mouth, smothering it with his fist.
"Pull yourself together," Ellie hissed out of the corner of her mouth, elbowing him. But she looked pretty amused as well. Sarah wasn't exactly sure how to handle the situation, so she decided the best course was, well, if she couldn't beat 'em…
"Definitely wasn't expecting anyone to see my walk of shame," she said, wincing.
Ellie giggled and shook her head. "Are you really all that ashamed?"
It was very easy for them both to assume what happened was exactly what happened. That Sarah had spent the last few hours with Chuck—withChuck like that—and was now making her way back to her suite in his clothes. She was sure her hair probably looked extremely mussed, tangled, like someone who'd spent a lot of time recently in a bed. Oh God. Chuck was going to be mortified over this.
Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Not super, no."
"All riiiiight!" Devon cheered, holding his hand up for a high five, which she delivered, even as she winced and knew she looked very embarrassed.
"This is kind of…super embarrassing so I'm just gonna go, uh, back to my place and…die on the inside a little bit. Nice to see you both."
She snuck past them as Ellie squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Bye, Sarah. And don't be so embarrassed on our account. Please."
"I'll try," she said over her shoulder, giving Ellie a warm look even as she suffered on the inside.
As she waited for the elevator doors to close and lock her in safety where she could groan without anyone hearing, she heard Devon stage whisper, "I AM SO PROUD OF MY MAN CHUCK RIGHT NOW" and Ellie respond with a harsh whisper back: "Will you show some damn respect!"
The doors finally slipped shut and Sarah let out an unholy groan of mortification.
But as she made her way down the hallway towards her own suite a minute or two later, she had the realization that this situation had been just like the one in the elevator the first night she met Ellie and Devon. When she and Chuck hadn't even thought about pressing the button for her floor, when she got off with him and went to his suite, when Ellie and Devon had recognized what that meant at the same time as both she and Chuck recognized how it looked…
It was such a normal thing. This kind of embarrassment. Something normal people experienced. Things people wrote into movies about normal people.
And she got such a limitless amount of happiness from the realization that this was something she'd be experiencing now, these embarrassing moments. She would relish in it.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sarah Walker, ex-assassin for the CIA, ex-spy, ex-agent, ex-Wildcard Enforcer, sat in blissful solitude looking out over the French Riviera, having found her very own little comfortable perch on a flat rock at the top of a scenic hill she'd decided to climb.
She'd spent an entire night alone, sleeping in her own suite, under her own covers, without a warm body beside her, and she'd survived just fine. She smirked a little at that thought. She also ate breakfast alone, early, after a post-dawn 2-mile run, and she showered alone, and now she sat here…still alone.
She was doing just fine alone. Sure, she'd responded to Chuck's text this morning around 8 in which he asked if it was wrong for him to want to sleep in the lounge chair out on his balcony instead of in the extremely expensive fancy hotel suite he was paying for. She'd giggled and responded with, "Yes." And he sent laughing emojis back.
But these last 16 or so hours away from Chuck Bartowski had given her a bit of perspective, she found. This decision she'd made to leave the CIA for a different life really was about the disillusioned feelings she'd been having about her job for years now. It had all come to a head here. She felt a certain need for Chuck that went all the way through her bones and had settled in her soul. She wanted him.
But she wasn't obsessed with him. This wasn't some obsessive mad affair. The way she really thought it was even just 10 days ago. And sure, she'd convinced herself enough that leaving the CIA wasn't about Chuck…but the doubts still lingered if she was honest.
She hadn't stayed away from him for almost a day now on purpose. It just worked out that way. But she was glad. Because it gave her some perspective.
As much as she needed and wanted him, this was something more real and precious than obsession. And her decision was about protecting herself, protecting her future…not simply a future with a certain man.
No, she wasn't obsessed with Chuck Bartowski, video game award nominee that he was. She was in love with him. Not being beholden to the CIA anymore was for her own safety, her own happiness… exploring this relationship with Chuck would be an added bonus. Really exploring it. Not just spending every waking moment together, but finding these moments apart and using them to be with herself, to pay attention to her own needs and wants, to listen to her head and heart, her body, to find herself again. Again. When hadn't she been lost, disconnected from her soul? When she was a mere child, maybe?
Ugh.
She pushed a stray hair away from her face and tucked it back behind her ear again. And then she glanced down at the watch she wore. She figured the hotel staff had finished her laundry by now and had put it back in her suite, so she climbed up from her perch and slowly strolled down the path to the main sidewalk that would lead her back to the hotel.
Her phone rang a half hour later as she neared the hotel and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was an unknown caller, so she halted and looked down at it. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath and hit answer, lifting the phone to her ear. "Hello."
"Got something for you."
She sighed, her eyes drifting shut. When she opened them again, she shook her head. "How did you get this number?"
"Come on. You know a magician never reveals his tricks."
"What do you want?"
"I need a reason to call you?"
"Yes." She gritted her teeth. "Yes, you do. I'm on assignment."
"A little birdie told me you're actually suspended, sooo…"
Her jaw hurt with how hard she was clenching it. She tried to extract some sense of peace from the water sparkling out in front of her. At least he didn't know she'd left the CIA, just that she was being suspended. "At least I don't make a habit out of being suspended the way you do."
"Ouch. Well. Okay, you might have a point. But you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
"When people use that phrase, they typically don't expect you to break every fuckin' egg in the hen house, asshole." She took another calming breath. "I asked you a question. Why are you calling me?"
"I can hear it in your voice. You're still mad at me."
"You abandoned me on a job, I asked to be reassigned, and that was that, Agent Larkin. Stop making more out of it than it was."
"Mmmm," he made a dubious sound, "it was a little more than that I think."
"What. Do. You. Want?"
"Fine. I've got a big assignment coming up, a four man—er, agent—job." He always stumbled over that part of her existence. That she was a woman in a "man's world". Except when they'd tumbled into bed together after three months of working on the same assignment. She'd stopped it cold, seeing that he'd had every intention of continuing things. He remembered she was a woman suddenly, and things became messy and complicated, and then he left her with the bag at the end of the mission a few weeks later. She'd almost died. And while he'd done the right thing, getting out of there with the intel, she couldn't help feeling like she'd been abandoned to die by her partner. That was when she'd asked for a reassignment, telling Graham she didn't think they were compatible as partners, that there was too much butting heads, that it was hard to work with him, and she'd been reassigned, just like that. He'd tried to come to her office, he'd tried to find her, talk to her, and she'd blocked him out totally.
Until now apparently.
"Look, you're the best assassin there is. Ice cold. And we need this to go down fast and easy. There's a sex joke in there somewhere…"
"I'm suspended. I won't be able to join you on this big assignment. Find someone else to do it. I'm not the only one in the CIA who knows how to kill people," she said, lowering her voice as someone walked past on the sidewalk.
"Like I said, you're the best. And I need the best. I know things are…complicated…with us."
"You're putting way too much meaning into, like, the maybe hour of sex we had two years ago. I didn't realize you were such a sap, Agent Larkin."
"I'm not a sap. That wasn't—" He grumbled. "I meant the end of that mission, how I grabbed the intel and left you in a tough spot. I just did my job. You woulda done the same thing. And it woulda been way easier for you to do than it was for me. You should know, I had nightmares about it. Even after I knew you'd gotten out of it, that you were safe and back at Langley. I don't think you woulda had nightmares if you'd left me in there, even if I'd ended up dying. Tell the truth."
Sarah was silent, an ache in her chest. It was a mean thing for him to say….and then… Well, and then she realized that it was…sort of true. Wasn't it? The Ice Queen.
"I can't do the job," she said instead of acknowledging what he said.
"Changing the subject, not dealing with the elephant in the room, just pretending it isn't there, that you can't see it. You're really good at that, Blondie."
"Don't call me that."
"You used to be okay with it."
"I'm older and wiser now."
"What're you going by nowadays?"
"Ice Queen, apparently."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm not at liberty to tell you that." She probably was, but she didn't want him to know this name, the name she'd be sticking with. She didn't want him to know where she was. She didn't ever want to see him again.
"Fine, fine. Always the enigmatic one. You know, I never knew what to call you. I liked when you were Fiona, those two weeks in Beliz. You always seemed like a Fiona."
"I'm not Fiona. And I haven't been since that mission. You don't need to know my name, you don't need to call me anything, I wish you hadn't called me, period. I won't be able to do this job because I'm suspended. So give it a rest and find someone else, Agent Larkin."
"My name is Bryce. Remember?"
"Agent Larkin."
Bryce let out a quiet whistle. "All right, all right. Well, listen, your suspension will be over in a few weeks and we'll revisit this then. You can hop onto the job a little late. It's deep cover, need-to-know, we'll hold off for a bit until Graham releases you from Assassin Jail."
"No. You don't get it. I'm not doing a job with you."
"Afraid I'll abandon you again? Shit, Blondie—"
"Don't call me that."
"Well, fuck! What am I supposed to call you?" he asked, sounding legitimately frustrated. "Look. That mission was fucked up and I regretted what I did even though we both know it was what an agent's supposed to do in that situation. The guy I was before the CIA is still in here—Bryce Larkin, the guy from Connecticut—he's still here. And he didn't let me sleep that night. Not until I knew you were safe. I'm not doing it again."
"That's exactly why," Sarah said. "We can't work together. For so many reasons." Something occurred to her then. "Wait. Did Graham tell you to—?"
"Nope. Don't—I mean, I didn't run this by him yet. He told me to just pick up the people I needed and he'd give 'em to me. So…I need you. Be on my team. I'll even let you pick your own name."
She hated that he'd tacked that on. So Graham didn't know. That was a relief. If he pressured Bryce into asking her to be on his team, it would mean that Graham wasn't serious about accepting her resignation. And that would be a whole mess of complications if so.
"Be that as it may, Agent Larkin, I can't work with you."
"You'd be working FOR me."
"Especially not then. Sorry. Have a nice life, though, and uh…do me a favor and lose this number."
She was about to hang up but she heard his "WAIT!" And damn her curiosity.
"What?" she snapped.
"Two years ago you woulda jumped at the chance to work on a high-stakes assignment like this. A good team, an important mission, life and death type stuff. What's going on here?"
"None of your business."
"So something is going on? Something outside of the suspension. Is that why you're suspended? Did you do more than slip, Agent?"
"Don't call me Agent, either."
He was quiet for a while. "What do you mean, don't call you agent?"
Sarah decided to just tell him the truth, give him the real reason she wasn't going to join his team, let him be confused or startled or whatever else, but most importantly, let him know that she was done with the whole life, and everything it included. That meant him too. Even though she'd been done with him in particular for years.
"I was suspended. And it gave me time to come to the conclusion that I can't do this anymore. Any of it. I'm quitting the CIA. I've quit the CIA. I'm through with it. All of it. And that includes this big assignment of yours. So find someone else, Larkin. I'm done."
She hoped he heard the emphatic 'Goodbye' in her words and tone.
"Wait…you pulling my leg?" he finally asked, breaking the long silence.
"No. After all is said and done, Agent Larkin, I'd prefer not to ever have to touch you again, not even for that."
"Ouch again. Okay. Wow. Wait, you're serious. You're quitting. You're quitting this."
"I am. I have."
"But…This is…I mean, how? No offense, Bl…erm, you just…I mean, that doesn't seem like something you…It doesn't sound like you. That's all. I'm shocked."
"You don't know me."
"Well, that's true. Nobody does. You're the Wildcard Enforcer, the Untouchable, the Ice Queen. You were born for this. Made for it. I mean, this job is tailor suited for you, for your existence. The enigma, the ghost, no ties to anything. This is you. This is your existence."
Everything he was saying hit her hard right in the chest.
She didn't want any of it anymore. And maybe if she liked him at all she'd say that. But she didn't. So she wouldn't.
"Look, I've got the rest of a suspension to enjoy, and then a desk to clear out. But enjoy the rest of your career and life, Agent Larkin, huh? Good luck finding yourself an assassin."
"No. Look. Wait. Wait, are you sure you're doing the right thing? I don't know, the world doesn't feel as safe without…without the CIA's best assassin out there."
It fell flatter than he most likely meant for it to.
"Drop the bullshit, Bryce."
There was a pause. "Well, at least I got ya to use my first name."
"I don't need your advice. I don't need someone to talk this through with and if I did, it sure as hell wouldn't be you. So this conversation is over. Good luck on your assignment. I won't be joining you."
"Wait, wait, wait. Please. Talk to me."
Sarah paused when she heard a bit of a frustrated and desperate tone. "About what?" she asked, sighing. "What do we have to talk about? You know we have nothing to talk about. If I wasn't leaving the CIA, if I accepted your offer and joined your team, we still wouldn't have anything to talk about, and I definitely wouldn't make the same mistake of sleeping with you again."
There was amusement in his voice. "I still don't think that was a mistake, and I'd definitely do it again and again."
She didn't crack even a semblance of a smile. She was suddenly tired. "Look, I don't know what you're angling for here, but this conversation is done. I have nothing to offer you, you have nothing to offer me, so let's hang up, huh?"
"I'm gonna miss ya out here."
It sounded almost sincere. His voice was quiet. She didn't know how to respond.
"I think you're gonna miss it too. Maybe not me. Okay, definitely not me," he added when she scoffed. "But this? The excitement? Adrenaline? You're gonna find yourself sitting at a desk in a year crunching numbers or whatever for some stuffshirt businessman who looks at those fantastic legs of yours too long when he thinks you aren't looking. And you're gonna wish you were on some rooftop with your rifle. You sure this is the path you wanna take?"
She didn't owe him her answer. But she had her answer.
Yes.
Because she had a pretty good feeling he was wrong. She could do this. She could survive this. She would.
"Good bye, Agent Larkin."
She hung up the phone before he could say anything else.
And before she could take the time to dwell too much on everything that had just happened, she did what she did best—compartmentalizing—and went straight to the nearest taxi she could find.
In two hours, she was back at her hotel, tucked away in her suite, pulling apart the phone that Agent Bryce Larkin had called, dismantling it altogether. And then she snapped the SIM card in half. It was done. She wasn't taking any chances. She didn't want him reaching her ever again.
It took her no time at all to set up the new phone she'd just bought, with its new number, and she felt the sudden urge to get out of her suite and seek out a different kind of comfort than she'd received looking out at the sea.
Sure, she wasn't obsessed, but that didn't mean she didn't need him.
She only realized when she got to Chuck's suite and knocked that she hadn't kept his phone number. God, that was so foolish, a rookie mistake. She should've at least written down the number so that she could contact him.
But it didn't really matter. She had her story ready for why she had a new phone and number. And it wasn't like she didn't know how to find him.
However, she stood there for a while without him answering. Frowning a little, she wandered away from the door, deciding she'd try Ellie and Devon's suite instead. A few minutes later, as she stood at their door, knocking and receiving no answer, she found a silly prick of paranoia in her chest.
She'd been rash and hasty, disabling her old phone before collecting its data. She'd let Bryce get under her skin, make her shaky, and she hadn't been focused or smart about the damn phone.
And now Chuck's and Ellie's numbers were both lost to her. And they weren't in their suites.
Sarah went back to the elevator. Most of her knew she was being ridiculous. But there was another part that wondered if something had happened. If they'd had to leave Nice suddenly, and now she had no number to reach him by, and he'd maybe called her old phone to try to tell her what happened and she'd taken it apart.
Fuck.
By the time she got to the lobby, the nerves had mounted, even as she rolled her eyes at herself. And damn it, she practically made a beeline for the concierge desk.
Automatically converting to French, she asked the concierge if Chuck had checked out of the hotel. He looked a bit perplexed and went to his computer, shaking his head. "No, Miss Walker," he said in English, probably a habit of his. He glanced over his shoulder then. "Ah. He is just through there. At the bar."
Relief rushed through her and she nodded, masking it quickly. "Merci."
He bobbed his head with a polite smile.
Sarah tried not to rush her step as she wandered through to the bar that looked out over the water, but she eagerly swept her blue eyes over the place looking for him. There he was, his back to her, in jeans, flip flops, and a short-sleeve button-up. He was swirling the tiny straw in his drink, his chin propped on his other palm.
She crossed the room and took the stool next to his. "Well. I found you."
He looked up, eyes wide. And then he grinned so hard it nearly knocked her right onto the floor. "Hey," he chuckled happily. And then his grin dimmed and he looked down at his drink. "Uh oh. You caught me day-drinking. That's a little embarrassing."
Sarah glanced at her watch. "Oh, come on. Give yourself a break. It's one o'clock. Fair game."
He bobbed his eyebrows. "Is it? Okay, well, thank you. Down the hatch." He grinned and took a sip of his drink, letting out an ahhhh.
She giggled and put a hand on his forearm. "How are you?"
"I'm good. You?"
"Good. But I wanted to see you. You weren't in your room."
"Oh! Oh," he said, a warm look melting over his face. "No, I-I hadn't left it all day and felt a little cooped up, so I thought this might be a good idea." He lifted his drink and tilted it towards her. "Sorry."
"No sorry. You don't have to account for your whereabouts every moment of the day. I'm not that kind of girl." She gave him a flirtatious bump with her shoulder. She wouldn't tell him she was starting to have a panic attack that he'd left Europe altogether simply because he hadn't opened his door.
In her defense, that phone call out of the blue from her old partner had left her chilled and a little off-balance.
Or a lot off-balance. He'd said too many things that had struck home. Hard. And it felt unfair.
Chuck's hand slid over her arm then and he rubbed up and down her bicep. "Hey. Something the matter?"
She blinked and looked up at him. "No. No, I'm good. Everything's good." He narrowed his eyes dubiously. "I had a look on my face, huh?" He nodded, pressing his lips together. She sighed and slipped off of her stool, stepping in close and wrapping him up in her arms. It was a little awkward considering he was already tall and he was sitting on a tall stool, her face pressed into his armpit practically, but he let go of his drink and gathered her up in his embrace anyways.
"Seriously, you okay?"
"Yes. I am. Nothing happened. Not really." She took a deep breath and held him tighter. "I'm just struggling with this whole…my work." She wasn't going to lock herself away this time. She owed it to herself not to. She owed it to him. He'd proven himself more than simply trustworthy. "A coworker called me up out of the blue and reminded me of things I didn't want to be reminded of, and now I'm dwelling on things I don't want to dwell on."
"Geez, these people really don't want you to enjoy your vacation, do they?" he asked, rubbing her back comfortingly.
It felt so good. So she kept going.
"He didn't know I was on vacation. He wanted me for this assignment and it just brought up old stuff I didn't want it to bring up. I…" How did she say this? "I have a reputation of sorts. At my…agency. At headquarters. And I guess I'd forgotten about it for a bit. He reminded me. And I don't know. I don't want to be that anymore." She huffed and pulled back, shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm not making any sense to you, I'm sure."
"Not super. But that's okay. You don't have to. Talk to me." He lightly took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look in his eyes. A few hours earlier, someone else had said those words to her. And she'd felt anger that he was entitled enough to think he deserved any words from her, let alone that. This time, she wanted to just release all of it, right here at the bar, tell him everything.
But the look on his face, the warmth and affection in his brown eyes, would go away. And when it did, he'd be terrified of her instead. And she wasn't ready for that. He definitely wasn't ready.
"It wasn't a good phone call."
He nodded, frowning. "I'm sorry. Did he say something mean to you? Was he rude? Do I have to hop on a plane and give him a strongly worded letter? Again…the hitting thing…not my style." He grinned cheekily.
Sarah giggled and shook her head. "No. I learned a long time ago that he isn't worth the effort."
He must've sensed something in what she said, or maybe in the way she'd said it because it dawned on him. She could see it in his face. Dammit.
"Oh."
"What oh?" she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"What? Nothing. Just oh."
Rolling her eyes a little, at herself more than at him, she sighed. "Yes, I did sleep with this coworker. Just the one time. And it was a complete mistake so I made sure it never happened again. Look, I haven't even been on assignment with him in over two years. I made sure of it."
He swallowed and nodded. "I get it. I mean, I haven't slept with a coworker because I'm the boss and that's a serious abuse of power and very unprofessional. You know, and the…the power imbalance is gross."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Have you wanted to sleep with any of them?" She liked the way this was going, away from Bryce, away from her job, into the comforting area of flirting, teasing, and something else she found she could really use right at that moment.
He gave her a cut-it-out look, then finished his drink, setting it down and writing his suite number on the bill. "I would if you were one of 'em." She just barely resisted the urge to snort that was so terrible. And he winced, apparently recognizing it himself, turning to look at her as he slid off his stool to stand in front of her. "That was really bad. Like, Hall of Shame bad."
She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, I can't help you with that."
"I can't help myself with it, so I can't expect you to." He rolled his eyes at himself. And then he took her hand, squeezing it. "Maybe I can offer something that'll take your mind off of your work, put it back into vacation mode." He paused, ducking his chin. "If that's what you want."
His voice was quiet, deep. And it sent a thrill through her.
"I do want that. I hope you don't mind if I go so far as to say that's exactly what I need right now. Do you mind?"
"Oh, fuck no," he said loudly enough to make a group of nearby older women turn from where they sat at their table and frown at him in shock. "S-Scuse me. I…Sorry." He turned back to Sarah and whispered, "Oops!"
Cracking up, she let him pull her away from the bar.
I'm trying to write when I can. Hopefully I can put more of this out sooner rather than later but this has all got me in a depression and it's hard to get the energy to do anything let alone write. Not a pity thing just reality I'm sure a lot of you are also going through. So thanks for reading anyway. Please review or PM. Even if it is to tell me what I write is offensive. I'll take anything at this point. Ha ha.
SSC