Nicky's POV

"Your turn to do the dishes," Ryder says as he stands from the table.

I glare at him. "How did you come to that conclusion? I've done them for the past three nights. I'm supposed to be the guest."

"You're not a guest. You're like the stray dog I'm stuck with taking care of." My glare turns deadlier as he talks. "And I came to that conclusion because I have a few calls I need to make."

I shoot him a flat look. "You've had 'calls' to make for four nights now."

Ryder shoots me a wide smile. "What can I say? I'm an important person." He starts to walk away before stopping to call over his shoulder. "And I really hate doing the dishes."

I curse him out as I start to gather the plates off the table and walk over to the sink. I debate whether to actually do the dishes or just leave them in the sink for him to take care of.

Ryder leans back against the counter next to the sink and scrolls through his phone. From the looks of it, he's not going to be making any calls anytime soon, considering he's so invested in the game he's playing.

I glare at him before turning my attention back to the dishes in the sink. My eyes lock on to the sink spray nozzle. I look over at Mr. Oblivious again before looking back at the spray nozzle.

I bite my lip to hide the smile that spreads across my face as the idea forms in my head. I turn on the sink and grab the spray nozzle, aiming it in Ryder direction.

"Ryder, I can't find the scrub brush."

"It should be right next to the sink," He says as his eyes remain glued to his phone screen.

"Well, it's not," I tell him, waiting for him to look in my direction.

"Then I don't know what you did with it."

I glare at him while his sole focus stays on his phone. "Then help me find it," I mutter.

He lets out an overdramatic groan and sets his phone down on the counter, turning toward me . . . and I press the button on the nozzle and water shoots out in a jet stream and hits him right in the face.

He pauses and brings a hand up to wipe at his face, his eyes opening to stare right at me. I'm still holding the nozzle, but it's currently off and I'm biting my tongue to keep from laughing at the look of utter disbelief on his face.

His eyes narrow into slits and water drips down his face onto his shirt as he stares at. He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so you think this is funny, do you?"

I smile wider. "Absolutely," I tell him.

"Ok," He says as he takes a step toward me. I press the button and spray him in the face again.

He moves faster than I thought possible and suddenly he's right in front of me, reaching for the spray nozzle. I continue to spray him as he tries to wrestle the nozzle out of my hands.

He finally succeeds and suddenly I'm the one on the receiving end of the spray of water. So I grab the bottle of soap and dump it over his head.

I'm able to get the spray nozzle back from him and start to spray him once again before he takes it back from me. Soapy bubbles and water are all over both of us, the sink, the counters, and the floor.

He grabs me and pins me with my back against his chest and continues to spray me over the head with water. I try to take the spray nozzle back from him but lose my balance on the slippery floor and we both going falling over.

We're both laughing even as we hit the floor, with him on his back and me on top of him, both of us chest to chest. It's only when I go to push off and get back to my feet that I realize exactly how close we are, what with me practically straddling him and his hands at my waist.

I feel my heart start to beat faster and my breathing becomes deeper as I stare down at him and he stares back at me, that unidentifiable look in his eyes once again. My lips part and his gaze briefly drops to them before going back to my eyes.

He's the one to break the silence. "You going to get off me rusty? You're heavier than you look."

I feel I should probably be offended, but I find I can't actually focus on his words. The only thought running through my head is what it would be like to for him to kiss me again.

Of course, the rational part of my brain is screaming NO, whereas the irrational part is saying hell yes.

The number of reasons why this is a bad idea are infinite. For whatever reason, my brain doesn't seem to compute that though. He's FBI. You're Nicolette Moore. This is never going to go anywhere. The likelihood you end up in jail is high. Extremely high.

He starts to move into a sitting position, sitting me up with him so now I'm really straddling him, my hands on his chest. His eyes stay locked onto mine the whole time.

Don't do it.

For a moment he seems to lean in, and then backs off and turns away, his focus going to the soapy floor.

Don't do it.

"Come on," He says without looking at me. "Now we have to clean up the mess you made."

Don't do it.

I finally slide off his lap and get to my feet. He gets to his and turns off the sink and closes the soap bottle.

"Matchstick could hand me the towel on the counter next to you?"

I look around, trying to clear my head and then pick up the towel he's talking about and going to hand it to him. The floor's still slippery though and I end up sliding and starting to lose my balance. A pair of arms wrap around me and pull me flush into him, holding me steady.

I look up at him, towel still in my hands and he's back to looking at me with that unidentifiable look once again. "What?" I find myself asking him.

Don't do it.

He looks like he's going to say something, and then abruptly shakes his head. "Nothing," He says and his arms start to loosen from around me. I find myself wishing they'd stay.

DON'T do it.

I stare at him as he takes the towel from my hands and starts to pull back further away from me.

Screw it.

Before I can even process exactly what it is I'm doing, my arms are around his neck pulling his head down and I'm on my tip toes, crashing my lips into his.

For one solid mortifying moment, I'm afraid he's not going to respond. Afraid that I totally made a horrible mistake. That is until he's pulling me closer into him and his lips are moving in sync with mine.

He starts to back me up and I feel my back hit a wall, his hands on either side of me. My hands still around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

His hands are suddenly under my legs, lifting me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he continues to keep me pinned between him and the wall. And I make no move to try and change that.

I'm so focused on the feel of his lips on mine, of his hands on me, that I don't even realize we've moved until my back is being pressed against a cold surface. Before my brain can process exactly where he's moved us, I'm dowsed with a stream of cold water.

I sputter as his booming laugh echoes through the bathroom as the shower continues to spray down on me, and with him having moved to stand outside the shower.

I glare at him, my cheeks turning red as he continues to laugh, his hands on his knees as he's bent over in fit of laughter. Obviously highly amused with himself.

"I'll be getting you back for this," I hiss.

His green eyes sparkle with amusement and a wide smile's on his face as he stares back at me. Whatever unidentifiable emotion was on his face before is still there, but it's not as prominent as his obvious amusement.

"Oh, I don't doubt that carrot top," He says, still smiling widely and I find I'm having trouble keeping from smiling. His amusement is contagious.

He continues to laugh and I find myself laughing with him as I switch off the shower and step out, grabbing one of the bath towels from the cabinet.

"You're unbelievable," I mutter.

I suddenly notice it's dead quiet. His laughter having abruptly cut off. I turn to look at him only to see him staring at me, his jaw clenched, his whole body tense, and his eyes shining with barely controlled fury.

"Ryder?" I question as I look at him, trying to find the reason for his abrupt mood change.

He looks me in the eye before his gaze goes to my side. I frown as I stare back at him before looking down at my side, only to see that the white shirt I was wearing has gone completely see-through because of the water.

And the tattoo on my side on my rib cage is clearly visible. The tattoo only a member of the gang would have.

I feel the blood drain from my face as I look back up at Ryder, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Ryder-" I start but he cuts me off as he holds his hand up.

He's beyond pissed. He clearly wants to say something, but can't find the words because instead, he walks out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"Ryder please," I say as I run after him. "Let me explain."

I don't get the chance to though, because seconds later his bedroom door is slammed in my face.

I reach my hand up to knock and then think better of it. I put my head down and back away, going back into the kitchen to clean up the mess. I let out a sigh as I think about the fun were just having. About how happy he was, and now it's ruined.

I know what he's thinking. Obviously, I lied to him about several things and he's clearly not happy. But mostly, if I had to take a guess, he's pissed that all this time he's been protecting someone who's a criminal.

And there's nothing I can tell him to make any of this any better.

I place my hands on either side of the sink and suck in a shaky breath. This was not how I wanted things to go. He was not supposed to find out at all. He was just supposed to do his job and then when we had this problem solved I would have just disappeared. He'd never have to see me again.

I look at the apartment door. It would be so easy to walk out right now. So easy to disappear. He wasn't likely to even come looking for me again. I'd actually be free this time.

He was smart, smarter than he let on sometimes, and it wouldn't take him all that long to piece together at least the possibility that I could be Nicolette Moore.

That would become an even bigger problem.

I blow out a sigh and my gaze shifts back to the door once again.

So easy to disappear. No one would come looking for me this time. So easy. I could just walk out the front door. He wasn't here to stop me and it wasn't likely he would anyway.

I shake all those thoughts out of my head and focus on cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. It takes longer than it should since I can't seem to focus on it and I don't have Ryder's help but I manage to get it done.

Just as I'm drying the last dish and putting it away I hear Ryder's bedroom door open. I hear his footsteps as he walks into the kitchen. I turn to look at him and see that he's changed clothes. A black t-shirt, jeans, black shoes, and a brown leather jacket. His sunglasses are back over his eyes and the tension hasn't left his body. He's also got a duffle bag in his hands.

"Ryder?" I question when he doesn't say anything and just starts going through the cabinets, taking some food items and putting them into another bag.

He ignores me and continues putting items into the other bag. When he heads toward the apartment door I move and step in front of him. I see his jaw clench and his grip on the bags in his hands tighten.

"Out of the way Nicky," He says simply, but I can hear the underlying anger in his tone.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, not bothering to move. I can't see his eyes because of the sunglasses but I'm assuming he's glaring at me though I can't tell for sure.

"Me?" He questions sarcastically. "I'm leaving. Agent North will be coming and taking over from now on."

I can't find anything to say to that, but I find myself asking why anyway. Even though I know the answer to that. Even though I don't want to hear the answer.

"Why?" He questions, disbelief, and sarcasm in his tone. "Why do you think Nicky? Don't be stupid, you know the answer."

He brushes past me and goes to the door. "I committed to this job, so I'm going to continue it. Agent North will be coming to protect you and if he manages to find out about you I'll let him decide whether or not to put you in jail."

"Please don't," I whisper and I'm not sure whether or not he hears me.

"Trust me, you don't want me around you anymore because if it were my choice, I'd put you in jail," He says as he opens the door.

Next update will be soon . . . probably

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