He was reluctant to leave, especially after she had brought to life the memory of his drunk friend stripping down to nothing but a pair of boxer shorts – and even ditching those – as he sought to join the other man on the couch. Oliver had crooned for him to join him, encouraging him on as he rubbed his own bare chest in mock seduction. It was a game of drunken chicken, in which Oliver would have been the sore loser of if Gen hadn’t dragged the oaf back up the stairs. The memory had him chuckling like he used to, the sound rich and roiling; a vibrant thrum in his chest. His grin mimicked hers for a brief moment as his hazel eyes sparkled. At thirty two and having a stressful career, he already had the crinkles around his eyes and mouth, despite being told that they were indicators of a life well lived.<br/><br/>He did wrap his arms around her in a strong-armed hug before he was hustled out the door, nodding in agreeance to meeting soon. “Of course— Be safe, Gen.“<br/><br/>Despite the fact that he stepped off her porch willingly, the glimpse of his old self right before had faltered. Intuition pricked at his nerves and the nape of his neck prickled, as if his body were trying to warn him that something wasn’t right. He shrugged it off, his shoulders literally rolling back, then his neck, as he palmed his keys from his pocket and took off to his own home for the evening. He even turned the radio off in his car so that he could listen in on the white noise bouncing between his ear drums, though there was a black and white reel of memory flickering in front of his eyes as he gripped the steering wheel of the Mazda CX-5.<br/><br/>The flashback took him back to right before the death of his sister, when she had first found out about Nathan and who he really was. Deep undercover, Nathan had still been a cop, but he had also been more. She had been confused when her investigative journalism had taken her right into the snake’s den. Nathan had grown careless when he had led her right to the viper himself, thinking that his girlfriend was oblivious to his<i>side gig</i>at a drug lord’s side. She had been even more confused to learn that<b>Nathan </b>was simply a made up American name, helped by the mask of an American accent, when the man himself was German. Nikolaus Lehmann was too deeply embedded into this job to ever be himself again. The thing about it was – Oliver hadn’t been quick enough to catch on to the logistics. He hadn’t caught on until this very evening, when he had glimpsed those photos that his girlfriend had dropped right into his lap.<br/><br/>Oliver didn’t sleep that night. As soon as he parked the car in the garage, he was quick to boot his laptop and shove the flash drive home, finding it not so much a surprise than it was a nuisance that Nathan had it encrypted. The annoyance lasted twenty whole minutes of his fingers lashing at the keys as his mind reeled over the combinations of what the password might have been. In the end, Dunkin won the war, mixed with the date that Ophelia was found dead. Data leaped out of his computer screen to suck him in until his eyes were blood shot and wide. One hand idly clicked and scrolled the mouse to his right while the other propped up on his desk, his hand poised across his mouth as his vision soaked in file after file of research.<i>Illegal business. </i>This was everything. Or – if not everything – enough data to put the Viper away once his whereabouts were known again.<br/><br/>“Fuck, fuck, fuck – everything,” he mumbled to himself. He had only just begun reading the information in front of him when his blurry vision scoped the time at the bottom right of the computer screen.<i>4:07 a.m. </i>With the same reluctance that he left Genevieve’s place, he flipped the top of his laptop closed and pushed himself away from the computer desk to head to bed.<br/><br/>Only to be woken from his restless slumber by the chirp of his ringtone going off in his ear. With a groan, the man rolled over in the tangle of sheets and comforter strewn across the king size wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, having left both t-shirt and jeans in a heap on the floor at the foot of his bed. Dark hair stood up in mussed spikes when he lifted his head, flinging one arm over to snatch the device up from his bedside table. He squinted at the flashing screen just long enough to realize who was calling him, then suddenly he was wide awake and sitting bolt upright as his thumb slid across the green.<br/><br/>“Gen? Genevieve? Are you OK?” His heart leaped in his chest as his worried tone pitched through the receiver into her ear. He didn’t have the opportunity to question further, as her panicked babble struck him hard. Suddenly it was less worry and more of a dull roar of rage that simmered just below the surface as her quick, shrill tone escalated into broken sentences as she sobbed that he quickly pieced together.<br/><br/>“You were fucking<i>attacked</i>? By who?” When the hard, wracking sobs became discernable, he shook his head despite her not being able to see him. “No. Never mind, don’t explain, just—just tell me where the hell you are. I’m coming to get you. Just—try and find a safe place, Gen, and I’ll be right there, OK? I promise. Turn on the GPS on your cell phone and I’ll track it to you.”<br/><br/>Yesterday’s pants and shirt would do. Like a demon chased right out of hell, the man snapped his clothes on in a blink and was out of the house in less than two minutes. The squeal of rubber on asphalt followed in his wake as his foot slammed into the gas pedal and he took off like a mad man through his neighborhood. He had pulled up the GPS tracking on his phone, eyes flicking between that and the road as he weaved through streets and barely managed to careen through traffic lights. She had only gotten a handful of blocks from her own place.<br/><br/>It took him ten minutes to reach her neighborhood again. He waited until he was close enough to pinpoint her exact location before he dialed her back, his free hand snapping open his glove box to pull out his concealed carry in the form of a Smith & Wesson. Small, but it did the trick in a pinch.<br/><br/>“Where are you? I’m here,” he snapped quickly into the phone, his eyes gone dark as he scanned the neighborhood. He eventually put his vehicle in park, but left the engine running. Stepping out of the car, he had his cell against his ear and the firearm in his hand, the safety turned off, as he scanned for signs of either her or the men chasing her.