Moira could remember a time in her life when everything seemed to be falling apart around her. It was her last year of college, her boyfriend of three years had just broken up with her, she had a paper whose due date snuck up on her like a back-stabbing snake, and the family cat they've had since her childhood died.

As she stared out at the greenery passing them by, Moira resisted the urge to laugh hysterically.

They burned her apartment.

"Why would they do that?" she asked, speaking up for the first time since they left the little gas station. God, she sounded like she smoked a whole pack. "They knew I wasn't home..."

"It's a message," Gabriel answered after a few seconds, "a scaring tactic meant to make you panic and trip up—blow our cover."

Moira scoffed bitterly. "Well, they sure succeeded in the scaring and panic part." She shifted her gaze to her lap where she studied her hands, folding and unfolding them. "I don't want to blow our cover..."

"I know," Gabriel said quietly, as if he could sense how delicate she felt. When she stared at him in shock, he risked a quick look in her direction. "You're taking this whole thing better than a lot of people, trust me, I would know. I'm...well, thankful makes it sound like this was my intention all along, but in a way, I am thankful that it was you who showed up at Ma's door."

"Hah!" Moira smiled, or at least she tried to, and leaned towards him to faux whisper, "It's all a front. I'm very much a mess on the inside right now."

There was a twitch on his lips. He should smile more often. The one he showed earlier when they were talking about Mrs. Hudson transformed his brooding hot features into devastatingly handsome. Then he tilted his head in her direction, as if to agree with her words, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts.

There are people trying to kill you, girl. Moira should not be thinking about how attractive she found her companion.

Still...surely, it couldn't hurt to look from time to time.

Willing herself to not dwell on the dark thoughts threatening to swallow her whole, Moira reached for one of the bags of snacks and drinks Gabriel had bought from the gas station and pulled out a coffee-flavored energy drink and a pack of beef jerky.

As she settled her drink in the cup holder, she asked, "Do you want anything?"

He spared a glance at her drink. "I'll have one."

After settling him with his own, Moira munched on a strip of jerky with her back leaned against the door and her legs folded up to her chest while staring at her plain white socks. A thought struck her. "Please tell me your safe house has extra clothes for women."

She watched as his face became a blank mask.

"Ah," he said, "I'll fix that."

Moira rolled her lips together and nodded. "Okay. Jerky?"

His eyes flickered to the bag she held out to him before he reached for a strip, stuck one end into his mouth, and let the rest dangle. There was nothing funny about it, but Moira couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at her mouth.

About half an hour went by in which they shared a bag of barbeque-flavored chips, a packet of sweet and sour gummy worms, and the last pack of jerky before Gabriel pulled into a narrow, steep driveway with pine trees on each side that lead to a two-story lake house.

"Smith Mountain Lake," Gabriel explained when she cast a questioning look his way as they got out of the truck.

"Why here?" she asked, catching a glimpse of a dock down on the water while he retrieved his backpack.

"Because it's easy to get lost in it if you're not familiar with the lake," Gabriel replied, coming around to join her at the front of the truck. He motioned for her to follow him as he started down the stone steps that lead up to the front door. "The speedboat down there is our getaway vehicle if needed. But for now, we stay here until I can figure out who I can trust and what our next steps should be."

Moira nodded, somber as the danger of their situation settled heavy in her bones.

The beeping of an alarm system greeted them as soon as Gabriel pushed the door open, warning them of a countdown and Gabriel punched the code in to turn off the alarm.

Moira stepped in and Gabriel locked the deadbolt after her while she took in the interior of the lake house.

It wasn't big, but there was a set of stairs that led up to the second floor, and another below that appeared to lead down to the basement. The floor was polished hardwood, there was a black settee set in the living area, a high table that seats four, a kitchenette next to a bathroom, and a door leading into a bedroom. There was also a set of sliding glass doors leading out to a back porch.

"Nice place," she said, nodding.

Gabriel made his way towards the bedroom and said over his shoulder, "It's not much but it serves our purpose. There's a guest room upstairs with its own bathroom."

Moira looked back to the stairs.

It wasn't really a second floor so much as a space that needed to be reached with the use of stairs because the house wasn't wide enough to accommodate it. Turning to Gabriel again, Moira opened her mouth to tell him she was going up, and promptly snapped it shut with an audible click.

Gabriel Hudson has a very well-toned and tanned back and she should stop staring because the man is changing his shirt, not hosting a strip show. But there was something mesmerizing with the way his muscles moved as he pulled a gray shirt over his head and covered the expanse of exposed skin.

Moira blinked and looked away just in time when Gabriel turned around. She cleared her throat and hoped to God her face wasn't as red as the heat in them was suggesting.

"I'm going to, um–" she gestured to the stairs, "–up."

He didn't say anything as she all but ran up the aforementioned stairs, and Moira was thankful. She needed a shower, badly, and some time to herself away from a certain hot Navy soldier. She didn't remember her clothes dilemma until she was under the spray of water in the single shower stall of the attached bathroom, rubbing shampoo into her hair.

"Crap."

Wrapped in a soft towel and drying her hair with another some time later, Moira stared at her bundle of clothes which she had left haphazardly folded on the counter top. Still undecided, she walked out of the small bathroom and back into the bedroom and made her way to the dresser she had seen earlier. She pulled the top drawer open, half-expecting it to be empty and half-hoping there was at least a t-shirt in it, and was pleasantly surprised to find a row of neatly folded shirts and shorts.

They were obviously for men, but beggars can't be choosers.

With a relieved smile, she pulled out the first shirt on top of the stack but rummaged through the shorts until she could find one with drawstrings and came up with a pair of basketball shorts. She quickly put them on, wearing her bra under the shirt but decided to go commando for the shorts. She just has to get used to the breeze.

The smell of bacon and eggs hit her as she stepped out of the bedroom, making her stomach rumble. The man can cook! She tried not to hurry down the stairs like a little kid, but if she were to go by the raised brow Gabriel shot her when she rounded the corner and stepped up to the island bar, she failed.

"Hungry?" he asked and held out a plate of steaming hot bacon and eggs.

"Yes." She slid onto one of the barstools, and quietly thanked him when he placed the plate on the granite in front of her along with a fork and table napkin.

His gaze went to her shirt and narrowed. "I'll work on getting some clothes for you after I make some calls."

Moira nodded and he turned back to the stove where he cooked another batch of eggs and bacon.

As she chewed on the ridiculously fluffy eggs and just-right crunchy bacon, Moira thought of how unfair it was for a man to look that sexy while cooking. Yet here one Gabriel Hudson stood, muscles visibly flexing through his tight-fitting shirt as he worked the stove with fluid movements—a testament of a man comfortable in the kitchen. Her eyes trailed from the crewcut of his dark hair, down the corded muscles of his neck, following the line of his spine before settling on the curve of his jean-clad ass, and wow. How did she not notice that before?

She wanted to ask him how many squats he had to do to get that.

Moira stuffed her mouth with the last of her bacon instead and immediately choked.

As she was hacking up a lung, a glass of water materialized in front of her and she gratefully took it, downing as much as she could.

"Thank you," she wheezed, rubbing at her chest.

One side of his mouth tipped up even as his brows furrowed in concern. "Careful. I can't keep you safe if you end up killing yourself."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" she said, clearing her throat. This man clearly had no idea how lethal his smiles were.

He shrugged. "According to a study done about a year back, choking is the third leading cause of death in American homes."

Moira looked down at her almost-empty plate. "Ah. I'll keep that in mind."

Gabriel returned to his cooking, stirred the scrambled eggs a bit more in the pan, then scraped it all into a plate while Moira scooped the last bit of food into her mouth. Then he looked to her over his shoulder with a contemplative frown.

And continued to stare.

"What?"

He picked up his plate then gestures with his head towards the stairs leading to the basement. "Come with me."

"Oh, okay." She scrambled a bit from the chair and by the time she reached him he had flicked a switch that turned on some lights at the bottom of the steps.

He led the way down and Moira did not know what to expect, but a row of several computer monitors on a long desk, a couch with a mini-fridge next to it, and a coffee table were not it.

"Get comfortable," Gabriel said as he settled himself in the swivel chair that was in front of the monitors which he dragged over to the coffee table. "I'm only going to explain this to you once."

"Explain what?" Moira asked, flopping down onto the couch.

He raised a brow at her.

"Oh." Explain his situation. She almost forgot that she had asked that of him, so she mimed closing a zipper over her mouth and said, "My lips are closed and my ears are ready to hear."

He huffed, a small smile curling at his lips as he settled his plate on the coffee table after spreading a paper towel on his right leg. He took a bite of eggs, chewed, then said, "I'm a Navy SEAL. I never told mom, she never asked. In addition to that, I also work for the CIA."

He took another bite then continued: "For the past three years we've been tracking the leader of a human trafficking ring, one of the biggest on this side of the ocean. Problem is, he's a slippery bastard. He knows how to avoid us, has his fingers in a lot of pies, and hasn't left so much as a paper trail for us to start following.

"You know, for the longest time, we had no idea who he was. We had our speculations, of course. Must be someone of high status, as they tend to be." He huffed, derision clear on his face. "Turned out he kept on the working-class side of things. He's a paper-pusher for a construction company, lives the white-picket-fence life with a wife, two-point-five kids, and a dog, a golden retriever. He's a nobody in the everyday world; the perfect cover."

Moira swallowed, heart galloping against her ribs. God, what had she been thrown into?

"Then we got a tip," Gabriel said after another bite and followed it up with a folded strip of bacon. "A huge shipment was coming in at New Mexico, the biggest we've ever seen and the boss-man himself was going to be there to oversee it. At this point, I've established a spot in the lower ranks of the ring as a grunt, just someone who could help do some heavy lifting when they needed it. I worked hard for six months to make sure I'd be the first one they called in to help, and I was right. So I called it in to my handler in the CIA and they sent me a team. It was supposed to go off without a hitch: I'd see our man, have visual proof, and the team would ambush the site. In the end, we were the ones who got ambushed."

A dark look crossed Gabriel's face, turning his steel-blue gaze into a stormy haze.

"And Lanster made damn sure I knew it, too. I was next if one of the guys on my team hadn't planted a black-out device before he got shot in the head. I barely made it out of there."

Moira wrapped her arms around her stomach. All those people...dead. The thought of Gabriel with a bullet hole in his head made her insides twist into knots. Don't think about it. He's alive. He's in front of you. God, poor Mrs. Hudson would've been so devastated.

They sat in silence as Gabriel finished his breakfast, got up, grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge, and flopped down on the couch next to her. He twisted the cap off and took several gulps then slumped into the backrest. His gaze had gone distant.

"I called my handler and could instantly tell something had happened on their end," Gabriel continued, quieter. "They wanted me to come in, but not as an agent whose mission had gone FUBAR, but as someone who'd gone rogue. They said it was over, that there was proof that I'd been a mole for Lanster this whole time and if I handed myself in maybe I wouldn't stay behind bars for the rest of my life...I knew what I had to do then."

Moira looked down at the space between them. Gabriel had left at least a foot. "So, you got your mom to safety...then what? Why didn't you continue to run?"

"I knew Lanster had put a hit out for me," he answered, "I was planning on taking care of his team, that way I only had to worry about the CIA, at least for a little while..."

"Then?" Moira prodded because that can't be it.

And it wasn't. "Then I'd set out some feelers, see who I could trust, maybe find out what the situation is at HQ if I want to push my luck. Which-" he checked his wristwatch, "-I should be able to do now."

With that he stood and went over to the monitors, dragging the swivel chair with him, and turned on the computer underneath the desk. He sat down in front of the center-most monitor as the screen came alive. Then he typed in a password when it prompted for one and Moira realized a few seconds later that he was completely immersed in his work.

Smiling to herself, she took his plate and headed back up to the kitchen where she washed their dishes and the pan Gabriel used to cook. Then she looked around the counters, thoughtful, before shrugging. She rummaged through the cabinets and came up with a bag of dark cocoa, flour, oil, and other essentials for baking and was admittedly impressed by how well-stocked the kitchen was.

She wasn't complaining though.

No, Moira was clapping her hands and rolling up her imaginary sleeves before she got to work.

She was tired, could probably fall asleep if she stood still for a minute, but with all the information Gabriel gave her, she was also feeling wired and just a bit fearful.

This was her life now: SEALs/CIA agents and leaders of human trafficking rings. One wrong move could mean death and if she wanted to survive, she had to stick with Gabriel.

She had to trust Gabriel.

An hour went by, and then another, and another, and when Moira finally stood back with her hands on her hips, she had four trays of brownies. She plucked a slice from the first tray that came out and chewed, nodding at the taste.

"Woah."

Moira jumped and spun around to find Gabriel eyeing the mess the kitchen had become before finally settling on the brownies. He had a tablet in one hand. She opened her mouth to explain that she stress-baked, but what came out instead was, "I used up all of your powdered chocolate..."

The small smile made a reappearance. "I'll get some later."

"Later?"

He nodded. "I'm going out this evening to get you some clothes. I could pick up more of the chocolate if you want. Actually, make a list of what you want, and sizes."

"Sizes?" Moira repeated with a confused blink.

"For clothes," he clarified.

"Oh!" Moira was definitely nodding just a little too fast and her cheeks were definitely on fire. It was just clothing sizes, for heaven's sake! But clothing also meant underwear. "You have a notepad?"

He reached into his back pocket and revealed a smartphone that he unlocked and handed over to her.

She stared at the device in disbelief, then back up to Gabriel. "How come you get a phone?"

Moira could swear up and down on her grammy's grave that the small flutter on the corner of his mouth was an amused smile just wanting to break free. His voice gave nothing away though as he answered, "It's special. I'll get you one while I'm out as well. Oh, and I checked on your parents. They're fine, though your mom did cancel a trip to Hawaii."

"Oh, mom," Moira groaned. "She's probably worried sick."

Gabriel just stared at her and blinked when she gave him a look. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. You done?"

Moira added one more item to the list before handing the phone back to him. "Um, just...generic underwear is fine."

He nodded then handed her the tablet. "We don't have cable, but you can still access the internet with this. I think we have a couple of streaming subscriptions. No social media, of course, but i figured you might get bored, so..."

Moira took it from him, smiling. "Thanks."

He nodded again before disappearing back down the stairs.

Moira decided to clean up the kitchen first before she settled on the couch in the living area with the tablet. She doesn't remember closing her eyes, but when she opened them again, it was dark outside, the clock read eight-thirty, and there was a flannel blanket covering her from the chest down.

She stood up, groggy and yawning, then spotted a bright yellow post-it on the tablet. It was from Gabriel, telling her he went out. She nodded at it and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she yawned again.

The air was heavy with humidity when she stepped out onto the back deck, and when she looked up she could see stars twinkling through the leaves of the tree branches that had overgrown towards the deck.

Then there was the sound of the lock sliding back coming through the sliding door she left open and she looked over her shoulder just in time to see Gabriel come in with two plastic bags which he deposited on the island bar. He had a leather jacket on, and he pulled something out from its inside pocket as he stepped out to join her by the railing.

"Your own untraceable phone," he said, holding it out to her. "You can call your parents now. But keep it brief, let them know you're safe and nothing else."

Moira slowly took it and, for a second, just stared, before she finally turned the screen on and typed in the landline number for her parents home.

Gabriel stayed next to her as her mother answered, and as she replied with halting words, desperately holding tears back. He stayed next to her as she said her good-byes and as she ended the call on her mother hysterically asking her to stay on and explain.

She doesn't cry though. She took a few deep breaths and looked up into Gabriel's eyes. He turned his whole body towards her and she said, "We'll be fine."

He nodded, resolve hardening his features. "We will."

Then his gaze flickered to her mouth and something passed across his face that had Moira's heart skipping a beat.

He leaned in and she tilted her head back, lips tingling in anticipation.

He kissed her forehead.

Just a brief touch of warmth and a hint of dryness. Moira was sure her heart stopped before it kicked back into overdrive.

Then he was pulling back and their eyes met again. "Sleep well, Moira."

And he was gone, back down the stairs and into the basement.

Moira touched her forehead in a daze.