Dark Horse

by Jessica Gadziala

  So it was absolutely personal.

  Which was certifiable.

  She was off her damn rocker, that was the only explanation for it, she decided as she ran across the street, skirting between a cab and a BMW that were honking - and screaming out their windows - at each other.

  "Oh, thank God," Kane said, throwing a hand dramatically over his heart as she walked in the front door of the office.

  "What?" she asked, a little startled by the reaction, glancing over to see Xander and Ra looking up from a file they had been discussing.

  "I thought I would have to go the whole day without seeing a pretty face. These ugly fucks," he went on, waving toward Xander and Ra who were in no way ugly in any way shape or form, "just aren't doing it for me."

  "Well, I'm glad I can make this day more pleasant for you," she drawled, moving toward the machine to pour herself some coffee from the blessedly full pot, her stomach seeming a bit more stable now that she was going through the motions of her day.

  "So you and Enzo..." Kane commented, making her jolt, and spill coffee all down her hand.

  She literally had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something as telling as - there is no me and Enzo. Because everyone knew that when you said something like that, there was absolutely a you and Enzo.

  Instead, she turned, pretending her hand wasn't screaming and red, and raised a brow at him, inviting further explanation. If he was fishing, she wasn't going to offer him an open mouth to sink the hook in.

  "Almost broke the case last night, I hear," he said, but there was an edginess to his tone that she didn't trust. He knew. Somehow, he knew. She had no idea how he knew, but he did. That was dangerous. Not because she thought Kane would in some way tattle on them or something like a bunch of teenagers, but because she didn't want her reputation to be dragged through the mud and muck. She wasn't that girl. She wasn't the girl who slept around at work. She wasn't the girl that everyone else called easy and unprofessional.

  The thing with Enzo was a fluke, a one-time thing, a huge, epic, weird, uncontrollable moment of insanity.

  But this, this little reminder of why she didn't want to be that girl, seemed to be the dose of anti-psychotics she needed to get her head on straight.

  Her stomach steeled; her chin lifted, and she shrugged.

  "I was close. I could smell him. Literally. He had a distinct cologne on. But it was so fucking dark on that site. He slipped away from me."

  "You'll get him," Kane said, giving her a wink as he reached for his pack of cigarettes, slipping one between his lips as he played with the top of his heavy, old-looking lighter with his free hand. "First official stakeout, and you were this close," he said, pinching his fingers together.

  "Don't even think of lighting that in here," Xander warned as the lighter flicked open again.

  "Keep your panties on, Mr. Machobossman," Kane said, rolling his eyes as he popped off his desk and moved toward the door. "I'm heading outside to spread my cancer air somewhere where your unborn baby won't soak it up. I'm not a monster."

  So Ellie was pregnant.

  That was good to know.

  Not because Espen knew about pregnancy and babies. In fact, she probably knew as much about it as your typical man did seeing as she didn't grow up around many women at all, and certainly, none that she was close enough with to speak of such things.

  But it was good to know because it was something she could talk to Ellie about. She sometimes felt like she was grasping for topics of conversation with her because where Espen was a bit of a tomboy even as an adult, Ellie was all girl. Sure, she was her own kind of badass to go with that, but she wasn't someone you sat around with and discussed the game or the fight or anything like that. And what she didn't know about babies and pregnancy, well, she could read up on in her spare time or something. Staying in good with Ellie would work in her favor with Xander.

  And, well, she kind of just liked the woman too.

  As someone who had had very few female friendships in her life, it was nice to know she could have one if she maybe worked at it a little bit.

  Espen took her coffee over to her desk, sitting down, and powering up her computer.

  It was barely a moment or two before Xander's shadow was towering over her desk.

  "What's up, Xander?" she asked, hoping he wasn't pissed she missed the guy. She figured that would be insane since even that damn case about the dog custody was taking several weeks to close, as crazy as that was.

  "E is out for the weekend. Not my place to tell anyone his business, but his sisters need to see him, and his brother needs some words. So you're on this case alone, unless you want Kane or Ra to tag along if it gets sticky."

  She felt her spine stiffen at that. She had a feeling that if the roles were reversed, and she was the one who had family stuff to deal with, and Enzo was left to handle the case alone, that Xander wouldn't be offering him a second set of hands in case things got sticky.

  And while she believed in her heart that Xander wasn't deliberately being sexist, there was a bit of cultural programming there in those words.

  Someone please help the poor, weak, little lady before she strains herself.

  Fuck that.

  She might be small, but she was as capable as any man.

  "Think Espen can handle herself," Ra said as he walked past, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork.

  She constantly found herself underestimating that man. Maybe it was because he was so quiet, so much so that it was almost like he wasn't even there most of the time. She should have known better than to mistake his quietness for disinterest. If anything, he was ultra in-tune with the goings-on at the office. He didn't often - almost never - feel the need to comment on any of it, but when he did, it was clear he was always following the conversation, no matter how engrossed he may have seemed in other matters.

  Also, she really appreciated him sensing a fire starting, and casually banking it.

  Xander looked down at her with a raised brow. "Didn't mean to make it sound like you can't handle yourself, Espen. It's a big fucking site. Like you said, it's dark. It's plain smart to have a two-man team on a case like this. But if you want to handle it alone until E gets back, you're welcome to. Just letting you know that it's, y'know, a team and shit here. And you can," he went up, raking a hand down his face in his discomfort, "lean on one another and shit like that. Fuck, I sound like a goddamn self-help book or some shit."

  "Yeah," she agreed, lips twitching. "What's up with that? I thought you were supposed to be some badass loner investigator."

  "I blame Ellie. And K. And Faith. And Gabe. And motherfucking Brian. The whole lot of them," he said, shaking his head, and ambling off.

  While no one would likely ever refer to Xander Rhodes as soft, there was definitely some softening thanks to a group of people he knew had his back if he needed them to.

  She had to admit, that must have been a nice feeling. And she needed to stop being so prickly if she wanted to fit in with that whole crew as well. She knew enough about Xander and his people to know it wasn't just about Ra and Kane. She also needed to get on with Gabe, K, Faith, Brian, and some chick named Corey she heard mentioned a time or two. It was like a family.

  That was what she always wanted, right? That was what she had been expecting with her father's business. It just happened to fall so short that she maybe lost sight of what she had been after in the first place.

  Maybe she could soften a bit as well.

  She wouldn't lie; the idea was both exciting and terrifying for someone who had learned to be so self-sustaining.

  Xander wasn't wrong either; she probably should have accepted help with the case. It was smart. She just... didn't want to have to share the glory if she didn't need to. With Enzo off with his family, she had a chance to truly prove herself as capable as any of the others.

  Besides, she needed to look into something that had been niggling at her since they were at the site.

  O
pening a browser on the computer, she set to researching.

  Then, when it got dark, she was in all black, hiding in the shadows at the site.

  There was no one.

  Not even a rogue city rat.

  Nothing.

  She figured maybe the run-in had scared him off for the day.

  She fell into bed, antsy, annoyed, and a little too jazzed up from not having enough to do.

  So, of course, her mind wandered.

  And where else would it wander to but a scorching hot kiss in her kitchen?

  Just as she was feeling her core fill with a pressure that was almost painful, clawing, and demanding a short - if her level of desire was anything to go by, very short but intense - session with her vibrator, she was saved from more excruciating thoughts by the buzz of her cell on her nightstand.

  She practically flew at it, thankful for any distraction, even if it brought something from the assholes at her old office. Two of them had deigned to text and ask her out since she quit. The idiotic assholes.

  But no.

  Of course not.

  It was just her luck that it was even worse than them.

  It was the same person who had her sweating and writhing in her bedsheets for the past hour.

  Enzo: Admit it. You're awake thinking about me.

  Oddly, her first instinct wasn't, for a change, to deny it. It would have been simple enough. Lying through text was about a thousand times easier than lying to someone's face. Aside from people using too-formal of language, it was hard to have a tell via text.

  Instead, though, she watched as her fingers deflected instead.

  Get over yourself.

  It was barely two minutes later when her phone vibrated in her hand that was resting on her thigh, reminding her of the kiss, of his cell vibrating so close to where she needed it, bringing with it another rush of desire she absolutely did not need.

  Enzo: I'd rather get over you. Or have you get over me. You know, ladies choice.

  Damn it.

  They were on shaky, shaky ground.

  And she had the distinct feeling she was already losing her footing.

  Some of us have work in the morning. Let me get back to sleep.

  There.

  That was safe enough.

  Right?

  Enzo: Okay. Get your rest. But say hello to Mr. Good Vibrations for me first.

  Oh, the smooth bastard.

  He got the last word.

  And, what's worse, she absolutely had to do that as well. There was no way she was going to get to sleep as sexually frustrated as she was feeling right then.

  And she absolutely thought of him leading up to, then through, the intense orgasm.

  --

  Something felt weird.

  But she was figuring she was being paranoid.

  She was also miserable.

  She had gotten to the site about two hours before. Right before the sky decided to open up and start dropping sheets of nonstop water on her, soaking her through in a matter of minutes, leaving her shivering in the never-ending drops as it kept up its hissy fit for another hour and a half.

  Her teeth were chattering; she was starving, and she wanted dry clothes and her bed.

  It was bad enough she had barely been able to sleep the night before, and had done nothing but busy work all day.

  She didn't need the damn flu because of some shithead trying to vandalize a construction site. She was going to say screw it and not go that night, but then she had gotten a call from the CEO of the company claiming they were getting threatening phone calls from some random environmental activist group.

  So... she had no choice.

  She had to be there or else she'd have to answer to the owner when he called enraged if something happened.

  She reached inside her pocket, lighting up her phone screen to check the time - and maybe checking to see if Enzo texted again, which he hadn't, of course - and decided two in the morning was plenty late enough.

  Then she saw it.

  The flash of skin in an otherwise all black clad frame. The side of a face.

  Her heart started to flutter in her chest as she moved from her spot against the wall, her muscles aching from cold and disuse as she carefully tried to sidestep the materials piled haphazardly around so she could keep an eye on him.

  She wasn't going to make the same mistake again. She wasn't going to rush in all hot and screw things up, tip him off to her presence. She was going to carefully keep an eye and slowly get closer until she could reach out and grab him.

  Running in the half-built structure was bad enough on a clear night. With the rain making everything slick and the ever-present threat of possible lightning, she wasn't going to take the chance of getting a piece of rebar through her chest cavity.

  She stopped at the side of the structure as someone moved in toward the building, making her stomach pitch.

  She really, really was hoping she wouldn't have to go in.

  Why was he even going in? What could he possibly hope to accomplish in this storm? The building was a couple stories high and mostly just metal at that point. The only way to be able to cause any actual damage would be with a fire over fifteen-hundred degrees. Which he couldn't accomplish in the torrential downpour they were experiencing.

  He barely even spared anything a glance which was even more curious. Suddenly, she forgot all about being cold because she had already been feeling like something was off, and this might be the way to prove her suspicions were right, she took a slow breath and stepped inside, ignoring the wobbly belly and jumpy pulse in her wrists, neck, and head.

  Above her, the rain was pelting down on the makeshift plastic-draped ceiling that, judging by the giant puddles she was carefully sidestepping, was not doing any kind of job, let alone a good one. The only thing it was doing was making a sound so loud that she was finding it impossible to hear footsteps of the guy, even though she knew he was only a few feet away.

  It also made her unable to hear it when she rounded a corner, thinking she saw a flash, and didn't hear the boots of another person stepping into a puddle behind her.

  No, in fact, she had no idea there was more than one person in the building until she felt herself flying forward, whacking her face off the side of a metal support beam, disorienting her enough to forget to brace her fall, sending her spiraling into a pile of plumbing pipes, one of them jabbing her hard into her lower back, making her let out a loud, pained curse.

  But there was no time for pain.

  She needed to get up. She needed her eyes to adjust so she could find her attacker. She needed to try to get a real good look at him, so that even if she was overpowered since she was outnumbered, she could have someone sketch up an image of him for her to use to track him down.

  On that thought, ignoring the hot trickle of blood down her cheek and the aching pain down her back and side, she pushed awkwardly up, reaching out to grab a nearby beam to get fully on her feet.

  Only to be attacked from behind again.

  The blow landed with a sickening thud to the left side of her head, making her vision swim and spark for a moment as she wobbled horrifically on her feet.

  But only for a second before she felt a solid, wide male fist catch her in the left eye just a split second before the other fist caught her under her chin, making her teeth clank together as she flew backward again, slamming back into the pile of PVC, this time feeling one stab her in the rib, the pain a shooting, searing thing, suggesting a bruised or busted bone.

  Disoriented, hurt, but not willing to go down completely as a victim, she kicked out, scissoring the legs of her attacker, catching him off-guard - the only reason, really, that she was able to take him down. His body hit with a satisfying thud as she pushed herself up again, the adrenaline blissfully numbing the pain as she hobbled across the floor toward her attacker.

  She reached down for a piece of pipe laying across the floor, knowing her swing would be weak with the rib situation, bu
t also acknowledging that at least it would still hurt.

  Plus, she needed to get closer to get a better look. Even if she was only seeing clearly out of one eye at the moment.

  He was almost on his feet, his back to her, when she swung, getting a solid whack into his side, likely bruising his ribs in the process as well, something she took a sick amount of satisfaction in. Because she knew that if she lived through it, once she got home, she was going to be hurting. She was going to be hurting for a good, long time. There would be no comfortable way to sit or lay down or walk around.

  So she wanted him to know a bit of that pain as well.

  She wanted him to remember her when he got a shooting pain up his side for the next week.

  But his adrenaline must have been surging through his system too, because he barely paused. He hissed, curled, turned, and snatched the bar out of her hand with one giant palm, as the other moved out to close around her throat.

  Tight.

  Too tight.

  Not putting pressure on the artery so she could pass out in a couple seconds.

  No, he was choking her out.

  And as he moved closer, showing her his face finally, all big and masculine and handsome despite its evilness, she felt her lips getting numb from the lack of oxygen as she got lifted off her feet, dangling like a marionette from his strong arm as she desperately tried to strike out before he killed her.

  "Fuck, enough!" Another voice came out of nowhere, a smaller figure all in black - the one she had been chasing originally. His hand shoved into his counterpart's shoulder. "Put her down. This wasn't part of the plan. No fucking murder on my goddamn rap sheet, man. Let's go."

  Seeming to at least be open to reason, his grip opened completely out of nowhere, sending her falling to the floor where she hit with a cry she couldn't seem to keep in no matter how much she tried. She couldn't seem to force herself to watch their retreat, to try to follow them, because she was too busy gasping for breath.