𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

THIRTY NINE | entirely braless

"Two warriors squaring off in the ring. Mud glistening off their thongs."

Tony recalls the wrestling match he attended the night before. I, however, was much too busy with other matters of business.

"I finally invited the others over for dinner." I inform him. "McGee and Jimmy thoroughly enjoyed my lasagna."

His hand wraps around my wrist, halting any further movement. "Lasagna better not be another word for what I think it is."

"Someone's a little jealous." A giggle rumbles through my chest as Tony pouts.

"Blame me for wanting to keep my lasagna for myself." He continues through the rows of containers in the Navy shipyard.

"Other people have had my lasagna."

"And I better be the last one who gets to have it for life."

His arm wraps around my waist strictly, the jealousy practically dripping off his words.

"There's a reason we don't invite coworkers to dinner. They'll be expecting to come over every week."

"And why does that matter, Tony?" I cock a brow. "After all, it is my apartment and my choice."

"I want to move in with you, but —"

"Save it, Tony."

Before I can continue, a rough hand pulls me back. The two of us share a look at the unloaded crates in the dock. The two of us run in opposite directions, cornering the unlocked container.

"The customs seal's been broken." Tony declares as soon as I clear the inside.

However, a couple of uninvited guests show up to ruin the party. Seconds before they can shoot our heads off, Tony and I hide behind the stacked crates, firing back with our own weapons.

"Get inside!"

We cover each other as we enter through the door. Standing our guard inside, we wait for the men to leave. Once the shouting stops, however, the door swings close, and a latch creaks.

"Damn it, Tony. We're locked in here."

I spend the next five minutes attempting to kick down the door. But no matter how many times I try, it won't budge.

Tony's cellphone begins to beep. "I'm not getting any reception."

"No bars." I click my tongue against my teeth.

There are no open spaces or windows in the container, meaning there's no way out. Unless, of course, someone manages to find us in this shipyard.

My back presses against one of the walls, and I sink to the ground. "Think Gibbs will find us before we freeze to death?"

"It's Gibbs we're talking about." But Tony refuses to give a definite answer.

We open the few remaining crates inside, only to find copies of an East Indian Bollywood movie. No small arms to be found.

"This doesn't make any sense." He pushes over one of the opened crates.

I tug on the ends of my thin jacket. "Maybe they used one of the other twenty containers to smuggle the weapons."

"But this is the only container that wasn't sealed." His light flashes across the edge where the wall meets the ceiling. "The rest of them are closed."

"They couldn't have offloaded them already. . .could they?"

"Might explain how they got automatic weapons."