"Get your oversized, armani-covered, dick-neighbored ass out of my chair."

Monroe swung around in my office chair, with his phone pressed to his ear. He looked annoyed to see me. "Aaron, let me call ya' back." He hung up and then glared flatly at me. "The best agent in the company miraculously returns. What does it take to get rid of you?"

"Much more than a few Russians and a cocky Italian with a vendetta." I replied and walked into my office, the office that Monroe no doubt had moved into the minute—nay, the second I was confirmed missing. He even fucking had my white walls painted over with a dark, navy-blue color. "I was gone two weeks and five days, Monroe. I hope you didn't pay the contractor to set up your urinal in here yet, but then again you'd rather piss all over the floor to mark your territory, wouldn't you?"

Monroe clenched his jaw and I could see how much effort it took him not to pull his gun at me in that moment. Me coming back was clearly not something he had been awaiting with joy like everyone else. "Careful, Rya. I'm still your supervisor. Just because Howard has some sort of unethical father-daughter relationship with you doesn't mean you get to speak shit to me. Especially when you managed to get your entire squad killed just two weeks ago. Funny how everyone else died and you were the only one who survived. I wonder if the Russians decided they found something they liked inside you."

My fists balled themselves up. His cocky expression told me he was aiming to tick me off. We both knew that he had been the one in charge, that he had made the calls, so technically he was to blame for getting the entire squad killed. He didn't order us to pull back in time, which resulted in us getting savagely tortured, killed, and in my case, almost raped. I wasn't going to stand here and take his crap, let alone take the blame for something he did. "Get out of my office, Monroe. And take your shit with you before I go nuclear."

He calmly stood up and arrogantly smoothed down his tie. "Enjoy your office while you still can."

"Enjoy breathing while you still can," I growled after him. Once he was gone, I slammed the door shut. I was going to break his fucking neck one day.

~~~

It was always nice coming back to familiar surroundings, but all that followed after having been held captive by the enemy was a real bitch. There was a whole process you had to go through; Health examinations, interrogations about what happened, questioning if whether or not I had revealed any national government secrets, psychological evaluations to determine whether or not I was damaged good, and at last, there was the physical exam that had to determine if I was still fit to fight. I aced them all, of course.

I'd worked for the CIA for four years now, and in those four years I had managed to climb my way to the top with my ambitious attitude and rock-hard mindset. Nothing could break me, let alone just break through to me. Pain was what it was. It stopped eventually. But I didn't. If I did, that would mean quitting and I didn't quit. I always got back up, I was in this to win it, and my dedication to keep my country safe was unlike anything most people had seen. That's how I got the best and most dangerous jobs, because I was good and because I loved them.

"Zac, how is my favorite nerd in the world?" I smiled, walking into the geek lab with two coffees. A couple of geeky heads turned to look at me, but I didn't give much notice to it.

Zac who was sitting in his cubicle took off his headphones and gave me a wide grin. "Rya! You're back! How was Russia?"

"I've had better vacations," I dryly replied, stopping up at his desk and setting down one of the coffees for him. "How about you? You got anything for me?"

"Always straight back to work," He grinned, pushing up his glasses. "Same old Rya. But as a matter of fact, I do have something for you."

My interest peaked. "Yeah? Am I going to have ōrgasms over it or will I have to fake it?"

"That depends; Does finding a trace of that USB and cracking the encryption on it make your panties wet?"

"It most certainly does," I leaned in to look at his computer when he pulled up a file. "Is this it?"

"Yup. I'll spare you the long mathematical details and just jump right to the chase; After finding the USB and getting a clue on what kind of model it was, I was able to figure out it had it's own traceable satellite signal. So I did some decrypting, because obviously it was scrambled, but finally I managed track it down to where it was last used. I got an address for you," Zac said, ripping a post-it note off his notepad after scribbling it down. "Feel free to climax whenever you want, just let me get the camera."

I snatched the note. It was an address, right here in New York. "Zac, I could just kiss you."

"Don't hold back on my account."

"See you later!" I called as I ran back down the hall. "Good job, I owe you!"

"Go get 'em, Rya!"

~~~

Zac had texted me some further details about the whole USB- and address-thing after a few minutes while I had been getting briefed by Howard on the whole Vincenzo-thing. A lot of things had happened after I'd gotten back home;

Vince (as I had now begun calling him, since Vincenzo was such a mouthful) had dropped me off at the airport (I was in Switzerland, can you believe it?) after I'd been patched up, but apparently he had already alerted my bureau ahead of time and told that I was coming home alive. So when I arrived, the CIA had managed to secure his contact information, so we now knew that Vince's full name was Vincenzo Santino, age thirty-one, and that he was a full-bred Italian citizen that worked for AISE, the Italian external intelligence and security agency. Like a lot of agents, his profile didn't say much about his personal life and details, only that he was trained as an infiltrator/black OP's field agent. His skills were just as finely tuned and impressive as mine which was why he had been a fair match to me back then when he had broken in. But we now knew our enemy.

But that wasn't all; Zac had also been working on tracing the USB, practically ever since Vince broke in, and just like me, Zac didn't quit until he succeeded. At last, (as mentioned) he had been able to discover what brand the thumb-drive was and had furthermore discovered that that specific drive had a built-in satellite tracker, which was probably there so they could always find it in case it got stolen. As also mentioned, the signal had been encrypted, but Zac had cracked it. He had tracked it down to an address in New York where it showed that the USB had been used or activated no more than two days after I'd returned home.

To summarize; Whoever had the USB in their possession right now was in the states and was about to get his or her ass royally kicked by none other than yours truly.

I sauntered down the hall in the apartment complex I was in, towards the flat at the very end of the hall. Of course it was the most remote one, it always was; There was minimum amount of noise and curious neighbors listening in, ergo you were less lightly to get caught doing shady shit.

I fished my gun out from under my shirt and clicked the safety off. The name on the door said M. Smith, but I knew very well there were no resident named Smith behind that door. It was just a useless cover to the civilian neighbors.

I pressed my ear to the door, listening for any sounds. All I could hear was a shower running. Perfect.

I picked the lock with ease and then slipped inside, checking of course if there were any boobytraps to the door and such, before walking further into the apartment.

It was very modern, light oakwood and clean surfaces, the decor. The kitchen was black and white and adjoined to the open living room, which had a beautiful balcony behind great glass doors, along with a great view. After a quick scan of the room, I felt certain that whoever lived here had to be loaded, or perhaps had acquired this apartment through questionable means.

And that's when my eyes dropped to a suit jacket that was hanging on a wooden hanger; A dark navy suit, one that look just way too familiar. Could it be... no fucking way.

I closer inspected the jacket while the shower was still running, and true as fucking hell, it was his. And how did I know? Because I recognized his scent. That dark, yet spicy cologne that wafted up my nose like an aphrodisiac; It was Spaghetti's.

"Oh this is going to be so fun," I smiled to myself and walked up to his white couch. I took a seat and got comfortable, smacking my feet up on his coffee table. Then I waited until the water got turned off, and then I waited some more.

I rested my Glock in my lap and slid a smirk onto my lips as the door to the bathroom finally got opened and Vince walked out clad in just a towel. His eyes immediately landed on me and a flash of shock passed through them. "Mia cara. What a pleasant surprise."

I let my eyes trail over his damped body, taking way too long to simply gaze at his ridiculously handsome figure. All that toned skin, those defined abs and that V dip at his hips, my my. Dark wisps of trimmed hair dusted finely across his chest, scattered scars and old injuries decorated his body, and speaking of decorations; He had a hefty tattoo on the left side of his body and arm that spread to his back and probably to his shoulder blade if I wasn't mistaken. Oh, yes. He was certainly worth snapping a mental photo off.

"Like what you see?" He mused, leaning up against the sill of the door, crossing his arms. Yup, that shouldn't have looked so sexy, but it did.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do," I replied, letting my feet drop to the floor. "I'm looking at a man who's totally unarmed and stripped down to his birthday suit. Hello, by the way."

"So I take it you're not here to join me in a second shower. That's a shame, the water is still warm to your liking. As I recall, you like taking hot baths."

He remembered. Good for him. "Mm, sadly not. I'm here to collect the USB with our information and to bring your naked ass into custody of the CIA. If you'd like, you can keep the towel."

He stood up from the wall and sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head. "You're a lot of work, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah, but I'm worth it, boo," I said in a mockery sweet voice and fished out a pair of cuffs from my pocket and placed them on the coffee table. I pointed my Glock at him. "Now here's how this goes down; put on these cuffs and turn yourself over without a fight, or be alive when I shoot you where your pride and joy is. Your choice."

"You are a coldhearted woman, Rya."

"I never pretended to be anything else."

Vince looked at me for a long moment, clearly chewing on something. I could tell he was considering his options to make it past me, to wherever he was hiding his guns.

"You'd shoot at an unarmed man?" He then asked, cocking a brow. "I never pictured you as unfair."

"Well I never play fair with people who has fucked with me, so to answer your question, yes; I will shoot you in your balls and make you sing glorious Italian operas if you make just one wrong move."

His lips twitched in amusement. "My brothers would like you a lot."

There were more of him? Good lord, imagine the family Christmas card. "Make a choice Spaghetti, or say bai-bai to your meatballs."

He shook his head, then slowly, with his hands up, walked up to the coffee table. "You gotta stop calling me Spaghetti, mia cara. My ego doesn't like it."

"What does your ego like, then?"

He picked up the cuffs. "You."

I scoffed. Right, because I was pointing a gun at him and threatening to bust his apple bag. His ego liked that. "Put them on, Vince."

He did, clasping the metal around his wrists before glaring at me. "Satisfied?"

"No. Get down on your knees."

He slowly got down on his knees, a smirk lifting to his lips. "Now what? Do you want me to lie down on the floor as well?"

I crossed my legs. I had to, otherwise I probably would've shown how much those simple words actually affected me. It was not that I was a dominatrix or anything, but I loved the fact that this fine specimen of a man was currently mine to do with as I pleased. Oh, the fantasies in my head were divine.

But then I abruptly stood up, shaking off the thick arousal that was wafting between us like an invisible fog. I had a job to do. "Where is the USB, Vince?"

"I don't know, but maybe you should frisk me. I could, after all, still have it hidden somewhere on me." He glanced sexily up at me, looking so goddamn hot kneeling right there in the middle of his living room like he liked being there. What kind of game was he playing?

"My gun versus your gun. Which one do you think will win?" I asked, now walking around him. I had been right, his tattoo did stretch to his shoulder blade. I was such a sucker for a little ink.

"I don't know. Are we talking size, length, girth, blast, hardness? If it's the last one, I'm quite certain I'm the winner at the moment, but feel free to investigate yourself."

We were talking about his penis when we were suppose to talk about the USB with the stolen information. How had we gotten here? "I'm losing my patience, Vince. Where, is, the, U-S-B?" I said through gritted teeth and jabbed my gun right at the back of his head. I shouldn't have done that.

Vince whipped around and grabbed the end of the barrel before I even had a chance to react. He then jerked out of the way when I pulled the trigger, the blast going off right outside his ear, making him hiss and wince when the sound probably blew his eardrum. I used his disorientation to whack my gun harshly across his cheekbone, causing him to fall over sideways on the floor and land on his cuffed hands. The gun left a deep cut on his cheek; Revenge was sweet.

"That was a stupid move you tried there, Spaghetti. I was going to go easy on you, but since you refuse to tell me where you're hiding the USB, I'm afraid I'll have to call for back-up," I said, fishing out my phone. "They're going to take you to the CIA and probably torture you until you give up the information."

Vince worked his jaw around and then spat out some blood, before slowly getting up to his knees again. "You don't see many female agents in the field, mia cara. Even fewer who has the ability to bring a man to his knees in more ways than one."

"I'm flattered," I said sweetly, leaning down until my lips graced his ear and my gun jabbed the back of his skull. "Now stay on those knees while I call for a ride. You're coming with me, boo."

• • •

She finally caught him. I guess the question is now... will she be able to keep him?