10
Charlie
It’s late. I pace up and down the length of the cabin as Annabel’s fingers fly on the keys. She’s hacking back into the CIA, searching for anything we can find on who’s behind American Trade Assets, the political action group that appeared on Director Scape’s bank deposits.
My thoughts, normally so ordered and neat, are a jumbled mess. I’m sweating, practically feverish as if the moonlight is stronger than the sun, and it’s burning me through the thin curtain hung over the rustic cabin window.
I need Annabel so bad, I’m sick. Nausea quakes in my belly, my fingernails dig into my skin. Not even the desire to shift and run can tear me from her side even as it kills me to be close to her. The muscles in my arms and legs begin shaking. Okay. I need to get out of here.
“I’m goin
