Kimberley Andersen, at just 25, is leaving behind a shadowy career with a secret organization she was involved with since the age of 16. Her decision to join the LAPD marks her attempt to live a more normal life and work alongside her mother, Captai...
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Kim set the wine glasses down on her coffee table, a light buzz already warming her up from the first glass. Tim leaned against the couch, casually watching her as she moved, an easy smile playing on his lips. They had agreed to take things slow—timing and all that—but, honestly, neither of them seemed very good at slow. Especially not tonight.
"One more drink?" Kim offered, holding up the bottle of red wine.
"Sure, one more." Tim smirked, knowing where this was heading. He pulled her down beside him as she filled his glass, her body naturally falling into his arms.
They sat close, far too close for the kind of restraint they were supposed to be practicing. Tim's hand absentmindedly brushed against her thigh, a simple touch that sent sparks shooting up her spine. They shared a look, heavy with unsaid things, the kind of tension that had been simmering for a while now.
"You know we're supposed to be taking it easy, right?" Kim teased, though her voice was already breathless.
Tim chuckled low, his eyes flickering down to her lips. "Does this feel like we're taking it easy?"
His hand found her waist, pulling her in even closer. The next thing she knew, their lips were crashing together, the slow burn they'd been putting off igniting into something much more urgent. His kiss was rougher than usual, more hungry. And God, she wasn't exactly complaining.
Kim's fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, but just as things were about to get even more intense, the doorbell rang.
They froze for a split second, breaths mingling, foreheads pressed together.
"You expecting someone?" Tim asked, his voice gravelly with a mix of frustration and amusement.
"No..." Kim's brow furrowed. She reluctantly pulled away from him and made her way to the door, smoothing her hair down.
Opening the door, she was greeted by a delivery guy with a package in hand. He handed it to her with a quick, "Have a good night," before heading off.
Her heart skipped a beat as she saw it—just a plain, nondescript box. But there, in the bottom corner, was a single letter. M.
Her blood ran cold.
Tim stood behind her now, peering over her shoulder. "What's that?"
Kim didn't answer right away. She took a slow breath, trying to collect herself. Her hands shook just slightly, but she held the box tighter, as if by sheer will she could stop the flood of memories. M. The ex-boyfriend. The one she never wanted to think about again. She had to be careful—Tim didn't know. Not the whole story.
"It's..." she began, her voice trailing off. She turned to face him, her expression neutral, as if that could mask the storm brewing inside her. "It's nothing. Just—an old thing. From... someone I knew."
