"Oh, God," I groaned. I covered up my ears and rolled over on my bed as I heard the grunts coming from my bathroom – my shower, to be exact. "Oh God, he is not... that sonofabitch."

But oh, yes, he was; He was jerking off in my shower. That fucking asshole.

I had told him he could stay one night because he was too weak to find another safe place to sleep, plus I still needed him for planning details, and then guess what the first thing he did was when he woke up from sleeping on my couch? I hardly needed to say it.

"Are you kidding me?" I seethed to myself as I heard his grunts resonating against my bathroom tiles. "Oh, for the love of Christ."

I threw my covers off and got up from my bed, moving to my dresser. Picking out my clean underwear and attire for the day, consisting of a pair of jeans and a black camisole, I begun dressing, skipping the shower. There was no way I was washing myself in there after he had... done that.

So he's too weak to find another place to sleep, but not too weak to jerk off. Male logic.

I scoffed. I was buttoning my pants up when I heard him turn off the water, then heard the shower stall open. Not moments later, my bathroom door opened, and from across my living room, I saw him step out, steam trailing behind him. He laid eyes on me as I quickly pulled my camisole down over my breasts, hiding away my black lace bra. He smirked, the damn fucker. I just scowled. "Did you see everything you wanted?"

"Almost." Was his coy reply.

Asshole. "Did you use up all my hot water?"

"Probably. I like hot baths, too. We should start showering together. You know; save water, save the earth."

I scoffed again. "If you can't keep your fucking mind out of the gutter, then we will have a seriously hard time working togeth—"

"Relax, and I already do have a hard time working with you," Vince said, walking up to the coffee table where his washed clothes from yesterday laid folded neatly. With just a towel wrapped around his body and his skin still coated in water, he looked like a model for an Acqua di Gio perfume commercial. The tattoo was a nice addition.

"Don't tell me to relax when you're fucking masturbating in my shower," I replied, forcing my eyes away from him. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail, combing it all out of my face. I could wash my face in the sink. At least he hadn't unloaded there. "Could you please control your urges to when I'm not around?"

"Why? Did it turn you on?"

Dear Lord, I needed to slap him. Maybe it hadn't exactly turned me off listening to a full-grown man pleasuring himself, but I couldn't be thinking of that right now. I had a missing tech guy, a corrupted government and about two dozen fucking people to bring into foreign witness protection. Oh, and then there was the matter of getting Vince out of the country, basically betraying my own government.

– That was my Thursday for you.

"No, it didn't turn me on, you fucking shit," I snapped at him, now coming out of my bedroom. "But I can't focus when you're —oh, for Pete's sake, Vince!"

He had taken off his towel and started drying himself, not giving a damn that I was standing right there. His family jewels were right there for me to oggle at, except I averted my gaze, holding my hand up to block the sight of him. I couldn't tell which one of us was acting more immature.

The problem was, I was hardly keeping it in my pants at this point. It was already hard enough working with a sexually charged Italian man who clearly didn't get enough the first time. Then add in the factor that I wouldn't mind a second round myself.

Would I even be able to handle a second? Good lord.

"Cover yourself up!" I commanded, still keeping my eyes averted. "Goddamn it, what part of 'professional' don't you understand?"

"You've already seen everything, tesoro. It's you who's being unprofessional. Can't even look at a naked man? Why? Is it because it reminds you of what happened here a few days ag—"

"Enough!" I raged. I closed my eyes for a split second, then turned my head and looked him straight in the eyes. He was amused, of course. "Put on your damn clothes, hide your shit, and then leave. I have to go to work and if I come home and you're still here, I swear I'm going to—"

"Fuck me?"

"—hurt you." I glared at him. "Worse than the Russians. Got it?"

His lips twitched, but then he pulled on his pants, buttoned them. "Got it."

~~~

Vince and I stepped out of my building together, Vince wearing a cap to hide his face from any potential viewers we had. It was so battered anyway, it was unlikely anyone would recognize him.

"We meet up tonight," I said, glancing around for anything unusual while Vince zipped up his jacket. "Then we discuss how we're going to progress."

"So I should come back to your apartment?" He mused, that little smile back on his lips. "You send some very mixed signals, mia cara."

"You gotta stop with the nicknames," I told him. "Seriously, we are adults. And unless you have some other magical way for us to take care of our business without being in the same room, you better be in my apartment at seven. On the dot."

Vince chuckled and took a step closer to me, leaning down to my face. "Si, dominatrix. Would you like me on the bed or on the couch?"

"Vince, if you don't start fucking taking this seriously—"

"Alright, fine." He sighed, leaning back again. "Professional, I got it. What are you going to tell—"

Something embedded itself in Vince's throat before he could finish, and it happened so fast I didn't even get a chance to see where it came from. He cursed loudly and clutched his neck, then yanked out something I came to realize was a dart. Probably loaded with a sedative drug of some sort.

"Shit!" I cursed as he begun shaking his head, already feeling the drug infest him. I went for my gun at the back of my pants, but didn't even get that far before a SWAT team jumped out from behind parked vans and corners of buildings. They bolted forward, semi-automatics loaded and pointed at us.

"Don't move! Get on the ground!" A voice over a loudspeaker said. A voice I knew too goddamn well. "Put your gun down, agent Wilkins."

"Fuck!" I cursed as Vince gave under from the drug. He shortened to his knees, trying to fight it off. "Monroe, don't fucking do this!"

As the SWAT team came at me and took my gun from my hand, patted me down, and then clasped me in a pair of cuffs, Monroe came out from behind a parked car, holding a megaphone. "I fucking knew it in my gut you were conspiring with him all along."

"You're wrong!" I protested as Vince collapsed to the ground now, lying on his side. The SWAT team took care of him and lugged him along to a civilian-looking van. He was too sedated to fight. "Monroe, you got it all wrong as usual, you goddamn prick! Unlock me."

"I don't think so," He replied. He then pulled out a state-of-the-art recording device from his pocket, rewound it and pressed play. "I'd like to see you explain this."

'You gotta stop with the nicknames. Seriously, we are adults. And unless you have some other magical way for us to take care of our business without being in the same room, you better be in my apartment at seven. On the dot.'

'Si, dominatrix. Would you like me on the bed or the couch?'

Oh my fucking God. Words could not express how much I hated Vince right now for his goddamn persistently dirty mouth. Our innocent conversation got misconstrued all because of the ill emphasis on the very wrong choice of words. "Monroe, it's not what it sounds like—"

"Oh, yeah, speaking of sounds, we've been monitoring you all morning," He casually said as the SWAT team locked Vince inside the van and drove off. "We heard some pretty interesting sounds if I may say so."

"What?!" I snapped, horrified. "What sounds?"

"Don't worry, we only recorded what we needed. We kept all your fucking to yourselves and just focused on your betrayal to your country. I've been waiting for so long to sat these words, and now it's finally happening," He said and let a smirk pry at his lips. "I'm taking you down."

Oh for Christ's sake, this was so fucked up. Putting a pin in Monroe's chauvinism, I wasn't so sure I could explain my way out of this one. They had extremely compelling evidence and I was certain that no matter what I said, I couldn't convince them that me and Vince weren't romantically involved. Especially when that wasn't the complete truth. But how could I explain to them that we had only slept together once and then make them believe I was still on their side? Yeah, they weren't going to buy that.

And that's why I found myself getting pushed into a van that was most likely going to be my last free ride.

– We were fucked.

• • •

But who doesn't love a little fucking.