“I need to make sure she can handle this. Do whatever it takes, but I need her solid. If she lets her emotions run the operation, then it’ll crash down and take everyone with it. Including her.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll make sure.”
She knew he would. He was incapable of doing less. “That’s it then,” she said, sliding off the edge of the desk.
He rose. He was a good man and one of the best people she knew.
She glanced at him as she left. He didn’t look happy. But who would? He had to manipulate the woman he loved and then put her in danger. She didn’t envy him the job but understood that the sacrifice was necessary.
The poor bastard.
…
Eva stood outside an office and watched Pauline through a crack in the door as the young woman alternately typed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. After the hospital had released her this morning, HRS had asked her to write down her experience while it was still fresh.
Eva had wanted to give her time to grieve, but Pauline had agreed to do as requested. Getting the young woman’s thoughts while fresh was for the best, but that didn’t mean Eva had to like it.
That guilt and worry had brought her here to check on Pauline when she knew it was pointless. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to see. Smiles? Laughter?
Only if Pauline were a sociopath.
What she saw was a young woman lost in sorrow. It would be months before Pauline moved past seeing her father killed. Possibly years.
Steeling herself, she knocked on the door to announce herself and entered the office. “Do you have a minute?”
Pauline looked up from the computer. Her eyes were red and her skin drawn tight. “For you? Of course.”
So young but so strong under the worst of circumstances.
She’s like her father, Eva realized. Put either of them in a crappy situation and they toughed it out. They survived. Eva’s spirits lifted, knowing that the strength and goodness in Felix lived on in his daughter.
Closing the door, she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.
“Is everything okay?” Pauline asked. “Are you okay?”
And gracious as well—also like her father. “I’m fine. I wanted to check on you. See if you needed anything.”
Ask for forgiveness for failing you. Thought Eva wasn’t sure how she’d find the words.
“More tissues would be good,” Pauline said, nodding toward the half-full wastebasket. “There never seems to be enough when you need them.” She tried to smile, but her bottom lip quivered as she fought back the tears.
No one should have to be this brave. “It’s okay if you cry.”
Pauline shook her head and gestured to the notebook. “If I start again, I might never finish this, and I know you need it.”
“We do.” Though she wished they didn’t. By the time HRS infiltrated the lab that had held Felix and his daughter, the entire subterranean floor was deserted, and all the equipment was destroyed. They only advantage HRS had was Pauline and any clues she might be able to give them that would lead to the person, or persons, who orchestrated the kidnappings and ordered the weapon.
“I’ll let you get to it,” Eva said, moving to rise, mentally kicking herself for being a coward. Just tell her you’re sorry.
Pauline’s hand shot out. “Please. Stay with me for a while.”
Eva couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be alone. “Of course,” she said and settled back into the chair. “What do you have so far?”
“Not much.” Pauline shrugged. “They didn’t say much around me.”
“Anything is helpful. Anything at all.” People tended to second-guess what they heard and saw, counting it as useless. But one never knew. More than one person had been captured based on what a witness had thought was an insignificant interaction.
Pauline’s shoulders slumped. “I feel like I’m letting him down.”
Him. Eva didn’t need to ask who, because she felt the same way. That she should have done more. “You’re not. You did everything you could. And remember, you’re not trained for this. If there is anyone who let your dad down, it’s me.”
Finally, she got it out. But the weight on her shoulders didn’t lift with the words.
Pauline straightened. “You? You did everything right.”
“If I’d done everything right, your dad would be alive.” Since the failed attempt to free Felix, she’d run scenarios in her head, and each time, found only one conclusion. “I should have paid more attention. Been more cautious.”
“I distracted you.”
It was sweet that Pauline was trying to protect her feelings, but Eva realized she didn’t want absolution. Especially not from someone she failed. Forgiveness was earned—not handed out like candy. “You didn’t know.”
Pauline hid her face in her hands, and Eva knew the tears had won out. “Tell me more about him,” she asked, wanting to offer comfort but not sure what to do.
Slowly, she reached across the desk and took Pauline’s hand in hers.
Pauline gripped her fingers tight. “I wish I could. But my mother divorced him when I was nine. I didn’t see him much after that. Really even before that, if we’re telling the truth.”
Felix had said as much. That he’d sacrificed his family for his work. “You know he was trying to make amends for that, right?”
“I know. Me, too.” Pauline freed herself and fanned her face. “I just wanted to tell him I needed him. I just…I just wanted to let him know that I was sorry.”
“He knew.”
“How could he when I didn’t know?” She shook her head. “We go through life thinking we know everything. What matters and what doesn’t. But it isn’t until we lose it all that we understand that it isn’t what that matters. It’s who. I know that now.”
“I understand,” Eva said. And the loss of her family felt as sharp as the day they were taken from her.
Pauline stared at the computer screen, lost in her thoughts as she struck the computer keys in what looked like no particular order. “Family means everything. And not just the ones by blood. God knows, my mother isn’t someone I would have picked. I meant nothing to her.” She snorted in derision. “Less than nothing, really.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Eva said, knowing it was probably the grief talking. “She wanted you enough to take you with her.”
Pauline frowned and struck the keys harder. “I wish that were true. She wanted to hurt my dad. That’s all. Once the fighting was over, I was left in a mansion with a stepfather that hated me.” Her hands stilled. “I want to show you something that I’ve hidden for a long time. But I’m tired of hiding.”
Eva nodded, curious.
Pauline twisted sideways and pulled up her T-shirt to reveal a myriad of scars covering her back. Some whip-thin. Other’s short, thick, and ugly. “He showed how much he hated me using switches from the garden, his belt—the thick scars are from the buckle—or whatever was at hand. My mother let him. She had what she wanted—an easy life. Why jeopardize that by protecting your daughter?”
Pauline’s voice overflowed with anger. Eva couldn’t blame her. What kind of monster let that happen to anyone, much less their daughter?
“Did you tell your dad?”
She let her shirt fall. “I planned to, and now I’ll never get the chance.”
“I’m so sorry,” Eva said, the words feeling small and insignificant, dwarfed by Pauline’s pain and loss.
Pauline continued. “Don’t be. My father’s death showed me what family was and was not. Family are the people who take care of you.” This time, it was Pauline that reached across the table, taking Eva’s hand in hers. “They’re the people that are there for you when need them. The ones what come for you when you’re kidnapped.”
…
“Ready for a workout?” Quinn asked, his sneakered feet coming into view.
“How did you find me?” After she’d left Pauline, Eva had head
ed to the gym to work off her sorrow and anger. But by the time she’d donned a stolen pair of clean, gray sweats from the trainee’s locker room, her anger was dying, and only recrimination was left.
The gym was empty. And small by most standards. There was a weight area, a few punching bags, and a boxing ring with a matted surface that broke a trainee’s fall when their mentors tossed them around like so much flotsam. But that was it.
Instead of working out, she’d found herself lying on a bench, eyes closed as she ran the scenarios again and again and wondered why she didn’t stop torturing herself.
“It’s what you do.” He nudged her with his foot. “But shouldn’t you be taking out your aggression on a punching bag by now?”
Something landed her stomach, and she peeked out through her eyelashes. Tape.
“Go away.” She tossed the tape to the ground and let her head fall back to the bench.
He picked it up and nudged her again. “Not happening.”
Her eyes skimmed over worn-out sneakers to tanned calves and up past navy shorts to a camel-colored tank top, and finally to his back as he walked over to one of the heavy bags that hung from the ceiling.
“Get up and show me how tough you are,” he taunted, wrapping his knuckles as he spoke.
“What if I don’t?”
“What do you think?”
That he’d stay and harass her until she did as asked. She swung her feet to the floor. He tossed the tape back to her, and she caught it midair.
He warmed up while she wrapped her fists to protect them. He struck the thick cloth and sand spilled from a loose seam. A jab and a left hook. An uppercut and a right hook combination. He wove and jabbed again. The bag swung with the force of the blows, and sweat flew from his brow.
Guilt faded as she watched him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched and flexed. He was as hard and taut as the day they’d met. The kind of man you’d want guarding your back in a fight or kissing you until your knees shook and buckled.
And she knew he was capable of that. And more.
He stopped and wiped his brow with a forearm. “What are you waiting for? An invitation? Come hold the bag.”
And he could be an ass, but she took position.
His first blow landed and almost knocked her off her feet.
He peered around the side. “Are you okay?”
Was he trying to piss her off? “Hit the bag.” She braced herself again. When the next blow landed, she held the bag in place with her body weight. He followed with another series of punches, but Eva held it steady. Finally, he stopped.
“You ready?”
More than ready. “Think you can hold it steady?”
He grinned, and she landed a kick to the bag before he could brace himself. He stumbled backward.
Childish, but she didn’t care. “You okay?” she mocked.
“Nice.” But he stepped back into the circle.
She slammed her fist into the sand-filled bag. The tension inside coiled like a spring, released an inch. Another swing. Another inch. Another kick. And more. Time and guilt disappeared until she realized she was out of breath, and her body burned.
Leaning over, hands on her knees, she sucked air.
“Got that out of your system?” he asked.
The fact that Felix’s death was on her hands? Not hardly. But it was better. “More.”
“Your call.” He leaped into the boxing ring, tossing her a set of gloves. A helmet hit her on the foot. “Let’s see if we can work out your issues.”
She donned the gear and entered.
Déjà vu. The last time they’d been in a boxing ring was the night before she’d graduated from his training program. Each of the ten students had to fight him. They didn’t have to win, but they had to show skill. She’d been the first on the chopping block, and he had handed her ass to her.
Maybe this time she’d win. The possibility left her almost giddy.
She adjusted her head gear, the thrill of battle rushing over her, and they tapped gloves.
“No head shots,” he said. “I prefer to keep my teeth.”
With no mouth guards, it was a prudent rule, but she replied by swinging at his jaw, knowing he’d stop her before the punch landed.
He dodged and retaliated by hitting her in the ribs with a jab. “That was unsportsmanlike.”
“Sorry.” They both knew she wasn’t.
Then they were on each other.
Uppercut. Roundhouse kick to the torso. Jab. When a hit connected, the shock of contact reverberated from her glove through to her teeth. Hitting him was like hitting a brick wall.
“You’re getting sloppy,” he said, sounding disappointed.
She glared at him. He wasn’t going to win. Not this time. An uppercut. Another miss.
He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. If this was training, she’d have already failed.
She went with a right hook. Her gloved hand swooshed past his jaw, as he danced out of reach.
He motioned for her to come at him. Taunting. Grinning.
It pissed her off. It wasn’t fair that she was alive, and her family was dead. Wasn’t fair that Pauline was left an orphan. Wasn’t fair that Quinn dumped her, and she still wanted him.
Life isn’t fair. Once again, his training lessons came back to her, the voice in her head stronger than the man in front of her. At least for now.
She slowed as reality slow-rolled over her ego and guilt. Life isn’t fair. She knew that. Had always known it. And as hard as it was, she had to let go of her anger and guilt if she wanted to be useful.
Quinn hesitated, and she took a step toward him. Another.
And let the anger fall away.
Focus.
Once again, he motioned for her to come at him, but this time, the taunting didn’t reach inside her like it had before.
She swung at Quinn. He danced out of reach, but not before her foot shot out and hooked him around the back of the ankle, tripping him.
He hit the mat with a thud. He stared up at her, shocked.
The last vestiges of her rage fled. She tore off her gloves and tossed her head gear.
“You better?” he asked.
She nodded, and this time, it wasn’t a lie. “Yeah.” But there was one more thing she needed.
Eva dropped to her knees, one on each side of his hips, her hands pressing into his shoulders. “Tell me you locked the door.”
“I didn’t want us to be disturbed. I thought you’d want the privacy.”
She flashed a grin that felt almost feral. “Good.”
For a split second, he looked confused, then understanding dawned in in his expression. “Eva, this isn’t—”
She kissed him, shutting him up.
He froze, but only for a heartbeat, then his mouth was hot against hers.
She tightened her legs on his hips, sat up, and yanked off her gear and then his, tossing them into a heap.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Quinn asked.
“No,” she replied. But Pauline was right about one thing. It wasn’t the what that mattered; it was the who.
And for her, that meant Quinn.
He slid his hands under her shirt, and she smacked his knuckles.
“I got this,” she said, sliding a hand down his stomach, under the waist of his shorts and toward his groin.
He groaned, again, his voice deep and rumbly in his throat.
She stopped. Still straddling him, she teased her shirt over her head, tossed it to the side, and followed it with her bra, leaving her breasts free. Slowly, she leaned over until they were eye to eye and her breasts pressed into him, reveling in the sensation as bare skin slid over bare skin.
His jaw tightened.
“Looking for control?” she asked, biting his ear.
“Trying.”
“Don’t bother.” She wiggled out of her sweats, sending them flying. He gripped her waist and pulled her down, rolling her until she was beneath
him. “Mine,” he whispered as he kissed her breasts and sucked each nipple, pulling them into his mouth, lingering until she found herself twisting beneath him, clawing at the mat.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted more for them both. She wanted him to feel the same impossible need that consumed her. He worked his way down her body, using his tongue to trace a path. Her belly button. The flat of her stomach. Her right hip. Her thigh.
She slid out from beneath him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice thick with desire but eyes concerned.
“One of us is overdressed,” she whispered, sliding her hand up the leg of his shorts.
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Good point.”
He rolled away, and seconds later, they were both naked, laying on their sides and facing each other. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her face.
“Hey, you,” he said, almost whispered, as if the gym were a church, and she was the alter he worshipped.
Her eagerness melted away, replaced with tenderness and the desire to be with this man. No one else. And she could deny it now or later or forever, but it would always be a lie.
This was the man she wanted. This was the man she loved. “Hey, you,” she replied.
“You better?”
She was still angry about losing Felix, but now that she’d physically worked off her frustration and anger, she knew it wasn’t her fault. And while she couldn’t bring him back, she could catch the person that took him away from her and his daughter.
“Yes,” she replied. She was better than better. She was a woman with purpose.
His lips glided over hers. Teasing, tasting, but not taking.
Just giving. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said.
“Shut up,” she whispered.
“Shutting up,” he laughed, rolling her over until he was between her legs.
She wrapped her thighs around him, and he was in her, moving. He slid his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her back until they were sitting up, and she was in his lap. “Eva,” he whispered her name, and his chin nuzzled the soft spot between shoulder and neck.
She pushed upward, tightening her legs around his hips as heat spiraled through her. “More.”
He thrust harder as she rode him, his cries loud in her ear.
Risking It All for Her Boss: A Heroes for Hire novel (Entangled Ignite) Page 19