“Are you seriously asking how I got your number after all that intel I dumped on you at the bar?”
Intel? Who talks like that? “Are you from some sort of secret government agency?”
She snorts. “This isn’t one of your video games.”
“Then what is this?” I ignore the fact she knows I’m a gamer. It’s not that hard to figure out. It’s not like I’m the kind of guy to wear football jerseys. I don’t even own a football jersey.
“We’re interested in you.”
“Interested how?”
“As an asset. Check out those IPs. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ends. I stare at the screen, deliberating whether to open my laptop or climb back into bed next to a sexy redhead. It takes me all of a nanosecond to make my decision. As I start down the hall, the phone in my hand buzzes twice. I slow and read the text. You really want to hit those IPs. Now.
With a sigh, I concede and remove the laptop from my bag, setting it up on the kitchen counter. The glow from the screen lights the entire room, so I turn it down on the off chance it may wake Emma. I highly doubt it will. That woman sleeps like she does everything else—without any inhibition. Smiling at the not-so-distant memory of something else she does without inhibition, I read the text listing the IPs.
I blink and lift my glasses to rub at my eyes. I know better than to blindly enter a random IP into my browser and instead open a command prompt before pinging the first IP. It takes me three tries just to get the right array of numbers. Jesus, I’m tired. I have a beautiful woman in my bed. I’m an idiot for sitting here in the dark when I can be stretched out next to her.
There’s no reason I can’t do this tomorrow. I reach to close the laptop just as the ping returns the results. I lean closer. This can’t be right. The ping doesn’t return a host name—but it does return a reply.
Of something I’ve never seen. Just like that, the screen transforms into a giant hashtag with a prompt at the bottom. Would you like to play?
Now wide awake, I adjust my glasses and give the screen my full attention. It’s not a hashtag. It’s a 3x3 grid, setting the board for tic-tac-toe. I have seen this before. In fact, I wrote this exact program my senior year of high school. How’d TREX get a hold of it? I thought I lost it when I left home.
I type my response. X takes lower left corner. An X appears in the opening.
A corner play? Interesting. O takes the center. An O appears in the center square.
Smiling as I anticipate the moves of the game, I enter my next move. X takes upper right corner.
“Come on,” I mutter. While normal teens actually socialized and went to school events, I spent the time playing this stupid game against a computer, winning every time. “Don’t make it too easy on me.”
When the computer returns, O takes upper left corner, I roll my eyes and type, X takes lower right corner for the block. I also created a fork, guaranteeing my win.
That was too easy.
The screen clears, followed by a prompt of, I see you remember your own game. Same moves. Every time. We’ll have to work on that. Too predictable. Next IP, please.
No. No more IPs. No more tests. I’m tired. I want sleep. Whatever mind game this woman wants to play can wait for daylight. I close the laptop and leave my phone on the kitchen counter before shuffling back into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
TREX HQ
Bailey hit the return key over and over, positive they’d lost the connection instead of the obvious—he’d closed his laptop. In essence, he’d hung up on her. No matter how many times she tried his cell, he didn’t answer. Damn it. He must have turned off his ringer. Either that, or his battery died.
“Why isn’t he answering?” she asked after it went to voicemail again.
Jason Bowman, her personal protection detail and currently ex-boyfriend rolled his eyes and groaned into the air. “Because it’s four in the morning. Come on, Bails. Let the guy sleep.”
“The threats we hunt down don’t sleep,” she fired back, flashing him a burning glare. He shrank back. If she couldn’t find dedicated recruits, she’d fail. If she failed, she’d not only be out of TREX, she’d no longer be able to protect all the frontline agents—like her twin sister. She had to do whatever it took to make this program a success. Her sister’s life depended on it. “Why should our agents?”
“He’s not an agent. He’s a twenty-three-year-old male college student you dragged away from a twenty-two-year-old female college student. They hooked up at a bar. He took her home. Do the math.”
No. She refused to accept she’d chosen a recruit who’d put his libido over the find and tried his number again. It went to voicemail. “Damn it. He’s putting the entire mission at risk.”
“Bailey. Sweetheart. He doesn’t have a mission. He’s not even an agent, yet. He has no idea why you’re contacting him.” Jason easily removed the phone and took both her hands in his. He held her prisoner in his crystal blue gaze. “And right now, you’re stalking him. Take a break.”
“We don’t have time to take a break.”
“It’s only been three weeks.”
“Exactly.” She jerked her hands away and backed against the wall, resting her head against it. The feeling of helplessness almost consumed her. “It’s been three weeks, Jas. What if I can’t do this?”
“That’s not even a question.” He approached and brushed some of the hair from her eyes. “Of course can do this. You’re Bailey freakin’ McKoy. You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can get this program off the ground, it’s you.”
His words helped, but didn’t convince her. “Maybe if I try him again—”
“No.” He took the phone out of her hands after she’d picked it back up. “Let the guy have a little fun.”
“That’s all it is to you, isn’t it?” She was so tired of having this same fight. Ultimately, it was what broke them up. Bailey wanted a serious relationship, wanted someone who took her seriously. Jason had no idea what the word meant. He drove his brother Jeremy crazy with his lackadaisical attitude. He drove everyone crazy, especially Bailey. “When are you going to grow up?”
“When someone proves to me being an adult is better than being a kid.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
He grinned. “Yes, I am.”
“I knew better than to allow you as my security detail on this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I need someone serious about their job!” she snapped and panted, forcing the breath through her nostrils. He had that power over her, pushing her from zero to bitch in less than ten seconds.
“Not you, too.” He swung around, placing his back to her. When his shoulders fell, so did her heart. “I can take everyone else pissing in my face because I’m not angry all the time like my brother. Or that I don’t live and breathe the job like your army of brothers. I can deal with everyone in this goddamn agency thinking I’m a screw-up instead of telling them the truth about that mission.”
He glanced over his shoulder, hitting her with a somber expression. A rarity on him. “What I can’t take…” He hesitated as she faced her. “What I refuse to accept is you believing I’m not good at what I do all because I like to have a little fun.” He inched toward her as his gaze warmed. “I seem to recall a pretty brunette with amazing blue eyes who used to love having fun.” He studied her closer. “She’s still in there somewhere.”
No. She stopped having fun after her bad intel nearly got her brother killed and left him partially paralyzed. She completely disappeared after her twin, her best friend in the entire world, left her to join one of TREX’s spec ops units. Another life in Bailey’s hands. What if she couldn’t deliver the intel fast enough this time? What if she failed, this time succeeding in getting a sibling killed? She’d never recover if she lost her sister.
“You may have everyone else fooled with this bitch act you’ve got going,” Jason pointed out, pulling her from her pity party, �
��but you know better with me. We share more than airspace. We both have a pain-in-the-ass identical twin. We both hate being constantly compared to our sibling. With me, it’s only Jer, but that’s enough. For you, you’ve got an entire litter of McKoys you feel are overshadowing you.” He stepped close enough to brush the hair off her shoulders and rest his arms on either side of her neck. “I’m here to tell you, they’ve got nothing on you, babe.”
She smiled, warming to his words, to his comfort.
“Well, except they do smile more.”
Dropping what little smile he’d earned, she regarded him. When his grin widened, she wanted to stay mad, but couldn’t. He’d always had that power over her, too. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to let the guy sleep.” He kissed her nose, surprising her. Were they about to change their status from off-again to on-again? “You’re going to let him wake up next to what could quite possibly be the first woman he’s ever had in his bed.”
She met his gaze. “And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” He leaned in, hovering his lips inches from hers. She lifted her chin. He inched closer and whispered, “I make you breakfast.” He nipped at her lips. “In bed.”
“Sounds great.” She sighed when he captured her lips with his, consuming the rest of her thoughts.
On-again it was.
11
[Ryan]
I wake to an interesting smell. Is something burning? I jump out of bed, grab my glasses, and walk out of the bedroom. Hazy smoke floats in the air, thick, burning my eyes. I wave at it to cut a path to the kitchen.
“Oh, shit.” Emma dumps a pan of flat black somethings onto a plate to join several other equally black somethings. She spots me and smiles. “Good morning.”
God, I love her smile. I slow and take in the sight. She’s wearing my shirt and nothing else. I can’t stop myself from smiling back, a little lost in her. More than a little lost. When I come to my senses, I stare at the dead meat on the plate and lift one up. “What is this?”
“Bacon.”
I drop it back to the plate and it shatters on impact. “Dead bacon,” I correct.
“I still have a few more slices to practice with.” She lays them in the pan and flames shoot up. “Jesus Christ with a flying frying pan.”
I rush over and turn the burner off high. I then face her and can’t help but laugh, both at her saying and how beautiful she looks with her eyes as wide as saucers. That splash of color in her cheeks really draws out the green hues in her eyes. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”
“What? My mom taught me to cook the shit out of meat. Literally. That’s what I’m doing.”
“How’s your mom’s cooking?” I eye the black bacon.
She drops the spatula onto the counter. “Good point. Sorry about the mess. I was just trying something new.”
“What? Cooking?”
That comment earns me a heated glare. “No, smartass. Being nice. It’s not something I’m used to being.”
“I think you’re nice.”
“You also sleep in PJs.”
“I didn’t last night.”
“For what you needed, they would have just gotten in the way. If you were any stiffer I could have used you as a pogo stick.” She laughs that low, husky laugh that rolls across my skin, causing it to hum. “Here’s the next lesson. You do not wear clothes to bed when you bring a girl home.”
“Why not?”
“Gives off mixed signals,” she answers without hesitation and pushes the bacon around in the pan. “You bring a girl home from a bar for one reason and one reason only.” Turning, she rests her butt against the counter. “Hookup sex.”
That’s the only reason? That sounds so lonely. “What ever happened to talking? Getting to know the other person? You know, actually become friends before going all the way.”
“Going all the way?” She snorts and resumes her duty of pushing the bacon around in the pan. “No wonder you’re still a virgin.”
My ears heat as humiliation dampers my mood. Yes, I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin. She doesn’t have to keep pointing that out. As if I don’t feel like a big enough loser. I study the floor until I have enough control to look at her without feeling like a pathetic joke. It’s obvious she pities me. To her, I’m just a project, a zero she’s grooming into a hero.
But she’s here and, at the moment, attempting to cook me breakfast. That has nothing to do with the deal we made. I push my insecurities aside and enjoy the moment. And the view. She’s got incredible legs poking out from under my shirt. I lick my lips.
She uses the top of a sexy barefoot to scratch the back of her calf. “Did you know the corner store is open all night?”
Yes, I did know that, having had to grab snacks at midnight when I’m in the middle of an online video game battle. I wonder if my little test at four in the morning woke her. “When did you go shopping?”
“This morning after someone coming back to bed woke me up. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I waited until you fell asleep and got up.”
“Sorry.” Until I know what, exactly, TREX is and why I have some woman stalking me, I swallow any other explanation.
Emma glances over her shoulder. “That’s it?”
“I’m really sorry?” I don’t know what else to say.
“You got up in the middle of the night to use your computer. That’s weird, even for you. You know that, right?” Before I can ask how she knows that, she continues. “You left it on the counter. It wasn’t there last night or I would have spilled beer all over it. What could have possibly been so important it couldn’t wait until morning?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I played a few games.” All in all, it’s not a lie.
“Word of advice? If you can’t sleep and you have someone in bed with you, do her, not a computer game.”
“I, uh, didn’t know that was an option.” I swallow hard and force myself to take a breath. Now all I can think about is what could have happened if I would have followed her instructions instead of Bailey McKoy’s.
“If she’s in your bed, it’s always an option. Remember that the next time you can’t sleep.” She gives me a wink and I forget how to breathe all together.
I don’t know how to respond, so I change the subject by grabbing the bagels off the top of the fridge. “How about breakfast sandwiches?”
“Those bagels look bad.”
I look at them. “They look fine to me.”
“They’re brown.”
“They’re wheat,” I counter and chuckle. When she blinks at me like I’ve just talked in another language, I go on. “I don’t do white carbs. That includes bagels.”
“So, like no white…” She’s clearly struggling with the concept.
“Rice. Flour. Potatoes. The norm.” How does she not know about empty carbs? I thought every girl counted every carb. Discovering one who doesn’t is both intriguing and confusing. Here I thought I knew what women wanted. As soon as I think that, I dismiss the idea. If I did, I wouldn’t be single. And a virgin. And willing to let a virtual—yet sexy—stranger teach me how to be a player.
She laughs. “If you say so.”
I hold up the bag of bagels. “Are you in?”
“I don’t do eggs.”
I slow and look at her. “I have eggs?”
“You do now.”
My phone buzzes on the counter. Not again. I’m not in the mood to deal with my stalker and her cryptic tests. Why call me at four in the morning to play a game of tic-tac-toe?
I check the screen and roll my eyes as I recognize the number. I need coffee before dealing with my dad and ignore the call. That’s the second time he’s called this week. I must have done something else unknowingly to disappoint him. Either that, or he’s the one who sent TREX after me and is following up on the job. I’m not talking to him either way.
Pushing the phone aside, I return my attention to Emma as I work the tie on the bagel bag. “Why don’
t you do eggs? I mean, why buy them if you don’t eat them?”
“I love eating them. I just can’t cook them.” She bounces her gaze from me to the phone and back. It’s buzzing again. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Nope.” I hit the side button to send the caller to voicemail without looking at the screen. No one is more important than the half-naked, crazy redhead in my kitchen. She deserves all my attention. That’s what I’ll give her.
“What if it’s important?”
“They’ll leave a message.” I return to my task of releasing the bagels from the bag. “I want to spend as much time as possible with you while I can.”
“See if you’re still singing that tune a month from now.” She flips the bacon too soon and frowns. She then cranks the burner, glances at me shaking my head, and turns it down to medium. It’s still too hot and will burn the bacon. Having grown up spending more time with nannies than parents, I had time on my hands to pick up a few things. One of the nannies liked to cook. I paid attention. “You’ll be begging for the DASH just to dump my ass.”
“Doubtful.” Highly doubtful. “I happen to love that ass.”
“That was a total tool thing to say.” She smiles wide. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’ve got a great teacher.” The damn wire tie on this bag is a pain in the ass. I’m ready to tear the bag open with my teeth to get at the bagels. “Back to eggs. Why don’t you do them?”
“They intimidate me.”
I finally break into the bag. “They what?”
“They intimidate me,” she repeats. “No single food item should have so many different ways it can be cooked. It’s just wrong. I like bacon. You just cook it.”
“Or kill it,” I mutter as I split a bagel and drop it into the toaster.
“Comments like that will not get me to cook you any more meals.”
“My luck is improving.”
She slaps me with the spatula and I jump out of her swinging range before she strikes again. “Ouch. Boyfriend abuse.”
“Fake boyfriend. And you deserved it.” She wipes off her utensil of assault and flips the bacon too late. It’s black. “Shit.” She dumps the bacon on top of the pile of charcoal that used to be bacon, grease and all. The little black chards are floating in their own lard coagulating around the edges of the plate. I shudder at the sight. No bacon for me this morning. Or maybe ever again.
Reluctant Hero (TREX Rookies Book 1) Page 8