ADRIAN'S POV
The guards brought Nate Cole back precisely at 9:00 PM. Punctual, obedient, and utterly irritated. I was waiting for him in the private interview room, the same room where I had last tasted the beautiful friction of his fury.
I knew he had gone home, had dinner with his precious, anchoring family, and had then thrown the entire suburban comfort zone away to return to me. The simple act of his return, after the exposure of the trafficking ring and his brother's solemn warnings, was a profound victory, and he had chosen the fire and fucking chosen me.
When the door locked behind him, Nate did not bother with a pretense of civility. He threw a stack of organized files onto the table: the initial debriefing documents, the photographs of the victims, and the CSI's official commendation for the raid.
