by Scott, Kylie
My thumbs move over the screen.
“Contact one, ready?” he asks.
“Go for it.”
He rattles off a string of numbers. “Now text to them the word report. Just that. Nothing else.”
“Done.”
The exact same process is repeated no less than nine times, with Thom reciting the numbers off the top of his head. Me remembering my own number is a minor miracle. But he has no problem, never hesitating, never getting a digit wrong. Again, the question of how intensive his training was and what it covered makes me wonder. I know he’s dangerous. I also know he says he’s on my side. I think I trust him. But none of this really helps answer the fundamental question: Who the hell have I been sleeping with?
“Contact two says Fox is clear,” I report. “I take it that’s your hacker doing checks to see if there’s any online trace of backstabbing and murder?”
The skin tightens around his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Hey, you gave me the cell.”
“I know.”
“You’re just not used to me being all up in your business.”
His lips flatline. “I don’t want you in any more danger than you already are.”
Another alert flashes across the screen. “Contact one says ‘The Thornbrook.’ What is that, a hotel or something?”
“Yeah. Upscale. Good security.” He’s frowning, so maybe The Thornbrook isn’t our new safe house, but something else entirely.
“How are you going to get inside?” I ask. “I assume that’s what you need to do.”
He takes his time answering, gaze switching from the road to me and back again. “The less you know, the better. I’ll think of something.”
“So you’re not going to tell me who you’re going to meet there either, huh?”
“No, I’m not.”
I set the cell in my lap, thinking deep thoughts. It’s way too late to keep me safe by keeping me in the dark. The man is an idiot. So what if I’m constantly terrified and freaked out over all of this? I need to know what we’re dealing with so I can be better prepared. Already, people have tried to blow me up, interrogate me, and I’ve been in my first gunfight. Fact is, the sooner he sorts out this mess, the better. So I can tell my friends and family that I’m okay. Get back to my normal life and find out if I still have a job. Put all of this crazy behind me. No idea if this will mean saying goodbye to Thom. No idea how I even feel about that. Probably best to deal with one impossible situation at a time.
“You’re checking all of your work pals out via the hacker you hired since they’re the most obvious suspects and there’s a high probability of this being an inside job,” I say, putting all of the pieces together inside my head. “You said earlier that Bear was the first to be cleared by our new hacker friend. I assume Fox is the second. No bad guys outed among the group so far. So no leads on that front.”
A big loud nothing from Thom. Meaning I’m probably on the right track.
“You said something to Badger about having trouble getting a message through to the bosses. Guess they either don’t want to be caught up in this, or they’re the ones responsible.”
A muscle pops in the side of his jaw.
“You’re going to make contact with one of them, aren’t you? One of the bosses?”
“How did you figure that out?” he growls. “Did another text come in?”
“No.” I raise my chin. “I used my brain.”
He glances at me.
“Also, I watch thrillers and spy movies. I know stuff,” I say. “And I manage a successful, high-volume inner-city florist with a multimillion-dollar turnover. Every day I deal with impossible deadlines and frantic brides. I organize things and solve problems. Well, I used to, before I became a fugitive. Point being, I’m not stupid.”
“Betty, I know you’re not stupid. But these people are dangerous.”
“Everything right now is dangerous,” I say. The man is seriously unhappy. I almost feel bad for him since he’s only trying to protect me. When he holds out a hand, I pass him the cell without further comment.
For the longest moment, he says nothing. “You’re right. I need to find out what’s going on with the bosses, learn what they know.”
I nod.
“Sorry. I’m not used to sharing this sort of stuff with anyone. Even with Bear and Fox, it’s a need-to-know policy.”
“You didn’t share it with me. I guessed.” I turn to watch the pedestrians out braving the bad weather. “Why did you crush your cell before we left California? Why not just kill the SIM like you usually do?”
“Someone could have been tracking us through a program loaded onto the cell. It’s not easy to do and they probably would’ve had to physically access the phone sometime in the past to do it. So we ditched it. Wasn’t worth the risk.”
Outside, the traffic thickens as we draw closer to the city. The daylight turns into little more than haze this late in the afternoon, streetlights glowing in the wet conditions. We circle a block twice before finding a place to park. Thank goodness for the thick coat and leather gloves. As awesome as it is, a designer handbag is no defense against the cold.
Thom leads me over to the sidewalk, keeping his body between mine and the street. Constantly surveying the area, we head toward an old brick building three stories high. Nothing fancy or anything, though it does seem clean and well-maintained. The elevator smells vaguely of Thai food and makes a few suspicious mechanical-type groaning noises as we ride up.
He stops at a door on the top floor in the corner position, unlocks it, and turns off the alarm. “In you go.”
“Does this place belong to you or the zoo?”
“Me. Wait here a moment, please.” He ducks his head into several small rooms, scanning them quickly. “We’re fine. Come on through.”
An exposed brick wall runs the length of the loft-type space. First I see a small walk-in closet, a small, clean white bathroom, followed by the main open area. There’s a clean white kitchen, a large bed made up with sheets and blankets, a wooden table with two stools by the window, and a two-seater sofa and TV hanging on the wall.
“Cozy,” I say, hanging my coat over the back of a chair. I place my handbag and gloves on top of the table. It seems wrong to invade the space with stuff, given the perfect minimal look of the place, but that’s life. The apartment has a lot in common with the ranch safe house back in California. No pictures. No personal belongings. At least, none I can see.
Thom just shrugs. “Not somewhere I spend much time.”
“Where do you spend your time?”
“When I’m not working, I’m home with you.” He empties his pockets onto the table. The car fob, the new cell, his gun and spare magazine…you know, the usual. “Guess we’re going to need a new place to live.”
No comment from me.
“I’ve got a few properties around L.A. you can take a look at. See which one you like best. Or we can get something new, though I’d prefer to avoid any large financial transfers if possible. Makes it harder to stay off people’s radars.”
“How many places do you own exactly, and what is your bank account balance?”
“My job pays okay.” He cracks his neck. “And in this line of work, it’s wise to have a few safe houses.”
“In case your cover gets blown.”
“That’s right. I stop by each of them now and then, collect any mail and check on security. Make sure nothing has been tampered with and see to any basic maintenance.”
“Your world is interesting, I’ll give it that.” I rub at the back of my own neck, trying to relieve the bunched-up muscles. Stress always winds me up tight. And I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. Even being a florist on Valentine’s or Mother’s Day has nothing on running for your life. On being hunted.
“Let me,” says Thom, standing in front of me. Much closer than necessary.
“You don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to. Bu
t I want to.” Strong fingers dig into my sore muscles, turning me into mush. Then he makes a disgruntled noise and undoes the buttons on the front of my suit jacket. His hands are sure, certain of my submission. His warm palms skim over the knit shirt, slide the jacket off my shoulders and down my arms before placing it on the table. My gun and holster are next and Thom does not look sorry to see them gone. “That’s better.”
I’m not so sure. The sensible part of my brain suggests I need all the armor I can get when it comes to this man. Though it feels good, the kneading pressure of his hands. It also feels a whole lot like seduction.
Warning bells once again ring inside my head. “What are you doing?”
“Working on the knots in your neck. What are you doing besides overthinking everything?”
“You’d like it if I just stopped using my brain and didn’t ask questions, wouldn’t you?”
The edge of his lips quirk up. “Now that you mention it, it would make things simpler.”
“Ha. Keep dreaming. Speaking of overthinking things, how are you going to get the bosses to help you?”
A sigh.
“I’m serious. What’s the plan?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance.” I gave him my very best fake smile. The one that’s so blatantly obvious it’s like a slap across the face. Never say sarcasm can’t be a superpower. “I know all about your bullshit now, sweetheart. May as well answer my questions because there’s no way I’m just going to go along quietly with whatever you want. Consider us partners in this whole staying-alive thing.”
“Well, that sucks. Though I must say, you’re particularly hot when you’re being all stubborn and demanding, telling me off like that.”
I look to heaven. “Just answer the question.”
“There’s a few ways to go about obtaining someone’s assistance or compliance in a situation,” he says. “Start by trying to appeal to their principles or feelings of patriotism. I know you haven’t seen much of it so far, but the zoo actually does a lot of good in the world. If neither of those work, then you move on to their ego. Sometimes it takes a mix of all three. Last resort is usually blackmail or threat, because once you try that, there’s no putting it back in the box. The key is finding an incentive that hooks them on a personal level. Even if you’re paying them, they need to feel emotionally invested so there’s less chance they’ll turn on you. Especially if you need them to act against their own interests or just not do what’s easiest for them. People are lazy as all hell, and ninety-nine percent of the time, they’ll choose the path of least resistance.”
“But you’re not going to be paying them.”
He shakes his head. “No. These people have the sort of wealth that makes billionaires look low-key.”
“And standing back and letting you all get killed would be easier for them.”
“Absolutely. No one’s irreplaceable,” he says, voice matter-of-fact. “I imagine they’re pretty busy covering their own hides right about now.”
“You need to convince them to come out and play.” It makes sense. Whoever these people are, they obviously have serious power and resources. But maybe we can still get out of this without anyone else dying. If we can get them to help us.
“I’d rather convince you to play with me.”
“This is serious.”
“I’m being very serious, Elizabeth.”
“No, you’re not, Thomas.”
“Gonna have to respectfully disagree with you there,” he says. “After all, I answered your question. Don’t I get a reward?”
“You get the warm, fuzzy feeling that comes with telling your fiancée the truth for a change.”
His eyes light up. “My fiancée, is it? That means we’re still together. We’re going to get married and have babies and drive a minivan and live in a—”
“Wait. No.”
“You said it.” He grins. “There’s no taking it back now.”
“Oh my God, what are you? Eight?”
“Thirty-four.”
“You lied about your age too? Holy shit. Is there anything you didn’t lie to me about?”
The mirth disappears from his face. “I wasn’t lying when I said I love you.”
“That seems ironic. Seeing as it’s the one thing you told me that I’d definitely worked out was a lie.”
“Let me convince you.”
“Prioritize, please,” I snap. “People are trying to kill us. There are bigger things to focus on here.”
“Yeah. But what if we died without having makeup sex? That’d be a tragedy.”
Give me strength. “A tragedy, huh?”
“Absolutely. But I’ve got to say, I do like how instead of giving in to panic, you’re trying to figure things out.”
I just shrug. “It helps distract me.”
He smiles. He has a really great smile.
“Why are you so hell-bent on us staying together? Answer me that.”
His fingers move up to my scalp, working their magic. “Pretty sure I’ve answered you that about a dozen times already. I like your smile. Hell, I like every damn inch of you. And I like who I am when I’m around you. The way I don’t have to be on edge all the time. Especially now that I don’t need to pretend to be someone else. Now that you know all my secrets.”
“Hmm.” My eyelids slide closed. I can’t help it. Nothing like a good massage to render you helpless. Without a doubt, his knowledge of anatomy is top notch. Probably makes him a better killer. My knees turn to water at the thought. The ever-present threat of a panic attack turning my insides to jelly.
But then he moves closer, lips skimming over my cheek, my jawline. He’s with me. I’m not alone. However, I should put a stop to this. Any minute now. “I highly doubt I know all of your secrets.”
“More than pretty much anyone else alive.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. You do more than just give me a home. You let me feel things like a normal person. You make me human.”
That might be the saddest, loneliest thing I’ve ever heard. “Thom…”
“Most of the time it feels like I’ve been at war my whole damn life. But not with you. With you, even the fighting is fun. Touch me, Betty.”
His lips graze the side of my neck as he speaks. His hands and his mouth are perfection, messing with my mind. The heat of his body pressed up against mine. Thom never used to be particularly tactile when it came to sex. Though I guess keeping me from feeling his scars made things complicated. Now, however, everything seems to have changed.
“Put your hands on me.”
My hands are fisted at my sides.
“Let me distract you for a little while. Let me please you.”
“You’re seriously persuasive, do you know that? What is this, the full secret agent treatment?”
“Fuck, I love how soft you are.”
“I-I’m not sure about this,” I stutter, my breath coming heavy.
He rests his forehead against mine with a sigh. “It’s up to you. Tell me to stop and I will.”
Only I’m not sure I want that either. I’m frozen. Confused. “You will?”
“Of course. I’m not taking anything else from you that you’re not willing to give. We’ll do whatever you want.” His lips press gently against mine. “You already know what I want.”
“The hard-on pressing into my stomach kind of gives it away.”
“I bet it does. But I can wait.” His chuckle is this deep and harsh sound sending a shiver straight down my spine. His warm mouth on mine delivers light, sweet kisses that go straight to my head. And he smells good. Like some awesome warm and woodsy aftershave and him.
Still, I hesitate.
“Want me to take my hands off you, take a step back?”
Problem is, somewhere along the line, he’s become the balm to all my fears. I’ve never met anyone less like a teddy bear, and yet I want to hold him tight until the monsters under the bed g
o away.
“No.”
“All right, then,” he says, doubtless pondering the confusion that is my chaotic state of mind. I almost pity the man. “I know… How about once we get this mess sorted, we just go get married? Get on a plane to Vegas and just get the job done. No more discussion. What do you say?”
“What?!” My jaw falls open in surprise, and he’s right there. Tongue sliding into my mouth, rubbing against mine. I was absolutely about to hit rant mode. To tell him he can’t be serious. But now it’s much too late. The man is kissing me stupid. It was all a trick, damn him. And I fell for it.
With his demanding mouth on mine, there’s no mayhem or death or anything outside of this moment. Just me and him connecting on a new level. Never in my life has someone kissed me like this. Like touching me, being here with me, is his sole reason for existing. I know, given our history, there’s every chance it isn’t real. Yet right now, I’m finding it hard to care. Thom and I suddenly have serious chemistry. Like off-the-charts, breath stealing, blazing heat and lust. If he’s faking it, I might just have to kill him. The man makes my heart feel cumbersome. Just generally big and confused and…I don’t know. Pretty sure I need a feelings warning whenever he’s around. That would be useful.
My fingers fist in the fine cotton of his button-down shirt. While his big hand slides down my back to grab ahold of one of my ass cheeks. He’s grinding his hard cock into me, turning us both on, no doubt. Dry humping has never been so exciting. Our teeth knock together and he all but eats at my mouth. Nothing about this is sweet or slow. The cool and calm operator is nowhere to be seen. It’s good to know I’m not in this alone.
We need to be skin to skin. This is all that matters right now. However, my hands are trembling over the buttons on his shirt. It’s frustrating as all hell.
Thom kisses me once, twice, then pulls away.
“Hang on, babe.” He grips the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head. Buttons go flying. Oh well. Next, he grabs the hem of my knit top, pulling it up and over my breasts. I lift my arms and he gently eases it over my head. “God, I love your tits. Have I ever told you that?”
“I don’t think so.”