The Temp

by Cates, A. K

  “You thought you were in charge. Now you’ve blown the whole job.”

  “I don’t get it, I thought she had information or sommin,” Jensen mumbled, desperate to plead his way out of this. He’d heard Beareman had killed for less.

  The hulk of a man dropped Jensen against the wall and stepped back. His shoulders rose, his fists were bunched as if he were trying very hard to control himself.

  Jensen prayed to God he would.

  “You don’t harm her, got it? Observe from afar.”

  “You’re giving me another shot?”

  “I’m feeling generous tonight.”

  Jensen nodded vigorously. “Why d’you send me after her anyways?” he shouldn’t be asking, hell he should be pleading thanks for the second chance and his life.

  Beareman and Cotes began walking down the alleyway; leaving Jenson slumped against the wall.

  “Cus you’re the only one she won’t recognise.”

  56

  Trigger switched on the light.

  Eve walked into the black glassed apartment. It seemed fitting given what had transpired, Eve couldn’t go back home. Not yet anyway. Her heart had slowed to a deer like patter, the blood had returned to her face. The adrenaline was wearing thin leaving in its wake a dull pain and the urge to vomit. Her thighs were cut and tender from the mesh wire. Her hands had scrapes and bruises. For someone who hadn’t been in a fight, she sure as hell looked like it. She knotted her hands together and stood in the living room unsure what to do. What could she do? She was knee deep in this hell hole with only Trigger to help her.

  She couldn’t get comfortable, this wasn’t her place. She couldn’t relax; Trigger was here, with his masculine edges and damsel-in-distress saving graces. If it were anyone except Trigger she would have been at home, terrified out of her mind, albeit, at home, without him heating her blood.

  Without him.

  It didn’t take a genius to know how things were meant to play out. It was common in books, in movies, the lot. Trigger had saved her, in any thriller film she’d be throwing herself at him physically and emotionally. The hero appeal.

  They’d have hot and steamy sex.

  Oh god.

  She bit her lip and keened a look at him through her lashes.

  He took off his jacket and placed it over a stool. He wore a cotton fitted black top showing the shape of his upper body in an upside down triangle.

  She could see the long ago boxer he might have been. The Bronx. He hadn’t wanted her to know, he’d slipped up. Maybe he was trying to protect her, himself. Probably it had something to do with whatever secret he was trying to keep, the same one the blackmailers were using against him. If he was protecting her, if he cared for her-

  She banished the thought as soon as it came. Eve tried to imagine what kind of a past they could use against him. Hers had been purely association, the position of a victim, not a criminal. What if Trigger was a victim of his past too? What if he hadn’t meant to get caught up in this life? Eve couldn’t imagine his secret came from him being a hardened criminal. She couldn’t. Not the way he helped her, saved her without hesitation.

  She turned back, biting her tongue in her resolve. Falling for her handler would be too dangerous and too dumb.

  He took her hand, her fingers were numbed and not her own. He led her to the sofa. She sat and folded her legs and stared down at her knees.

  Trigger left to the kitchen.

  “Here, drink this,” he put a glass of water in front of her. His voice was gentle and full of authority, like the boss he’d once been. Good. She could handle this version of him. She chugged back the water. He disappeared again. “Eat this,” he put a plate of biscuits onto her lap.

  She took a tentative bite from one of them. They were soft and melted against her tongue. Her stomach awakened in a growl. It took a while before Eve could process anything beyond food and drink; she managed the biscuits and the water.

  “You don’t strike me as a biscuits kind of guy,” she finally said. Her voice was unsteady and so unlike the Eve she’d become of late. It was her old self. The terrified girl she used to be and all it took were some strange men running after her to undo all the confidence she’d built and send her back to the shy stuttering girl without a clue in the world. Little Evee.

  “Give it a minute. You’ll be fine,” his voice was so calm, intent and reassuring, she hardly recognised it. How could he be so cool in the face of danger? It was like the time she’d rebelled by screwing up her first day and the way he’d reacted gently rather than lashing out at her. He could master his emotions so well.

  Eve didn’t register her surrounds until she looked up to find herself in the guest bedroom.

  Trigger was bent over her. “Eve you need to rest.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “I brought you here.”

  “Who were those men?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think you’re past is catching up to you?”

  Eve stared at him, their eyes locked, her mouth dried up. She’d connected the dots in slow succession; though in her mind she wished it wasn’t the case. Could she have prompted the return of her past? Think. Think. Her hand flew to her mouth, her heart accelerated.

  The credit card. I used it at the station. It had to be. How they’d found her address was unclear but it was the only thing she could go on. It was the first domino. You brought this on yourself.

  “Eve?” Trigger leaned down over her. “Don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re tired.”

  “I’m wired.”

  “It’s the adrenaline, it’ll wear off,” Trigger flipped the switch and it went dark.

  “Please don’t go,” her voice was so desperate; she really had fallen back into her old self. The girl who was too afraid to do anything for herself, that girl.

  Trigger came round the bed and sat down next to her. “I would never leave you,” he said.

  Her cheeks heated suddenly, it felt so personal and so private and yet she was grateful for the dark. He probably didn’t mean it to sound like that, she couldn’t help look away. She was in a vulnerable state and Trigger was only trying to help, that was all. He was in the same mess as she was, they had a common ground.

  Her erratic heartbeat took its time to slow to a more even tempo, all the while Trigger sat next to her, watching her as she got under the sheets. She wore her top and discarded her jeans under the covers.

  “Eve,” she glanced up. “I don’t want to ask, I’m obligated to”-

  “You want to know what the status is with me and Roman.”

  He looked away for a moment. “Well,” he laughed dryly. “I can buy you some time with them.” His hand rested on hers. “Do you think it’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t think so.” There was a silence between them. “Am I in trouble? Trigger I don’t know what to do. I don’t think it will happen anymore.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” he pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  “It is?”

  “Let me see what I can do, if there’s another angle I can get them to consider.”

  “Do you have that kind of power with them?”

  He laughed again. “No, I want to help you as much as I can, if I can.”

  “Why? Why are you helping me so much? What about you?” she was very aware of his hand resting on hers, its weight gentle and warm. There was a comfort with Trigger she couldn’t fathom. He belonged to the blackmailers. He wasn’t one of them. But he did belong to them and yet he was also a victim, the great and powerful Trigger. The man who was always calm and considered and in control was so very not in control.

  “I feel it’s my duty to help you.” Like a knight in shining armour. Eve’s heart caught as she thought of it. All this time she wanted Roman to fit that criteria when Trigger might be sitting there all along, doing what he could to help her, even if he couldn’t.

  “Why
are you trying to be so noble?”

  Trigger turned away.

  Eve reached out, her fingers skimming his cheek sending an electric current through her fingertips. Her pulse sped up. She’d never touched Trigger voluntarily. Never.

  There was something so natural about it.

  He took her hand. “Eve what are you doing?” he pushed it back down into her lap. Eve blinked away and bit her lip. His hands cupped her face before she could respond. “I don’t want to complicate things.”

  “Neither do I,” her bottom lip quivered, her pupils dilated. Her heart fluttered. Everything was so confused. There was so much turmoil in her life. In theirs.

  He pressed his forehead against hers, catching her breath.

  “I wish things could be different,” his breath tickled her lips. “Sometimes I think of how it all happened. Even if you had never met Roman I know one thing for certain.”

  “What?”

  “You met me first.” Her breathing came out hard. “If it were only me,” he breathed. “If,” he laughed again. “You see I don’t want to ask the question in case I already know the answer. We’re brought together by circumstance.”

  “I was brought to Roman by circumstance.”

  Trigger pulled back and for a second there was a gap of warm air between them.

  His lips pressed to hers before she could respond. One moment Eve was breathing out, the next she was inhaling his lips. They pressed against her in such sweet desperation. His hands cupped her face, pulling her into that kiss. Their lips melded for dire need. Urging on. He parted from her and breathed out hard. He pressed her into his chest.

  Her head buried in his body. It was warmth, comforting reassurance.

  He pulled back. “Eve you can stay here tonight.” She nodded in the dark. “I have a few things still to do. You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

  Eve nodded as her head buried against his hard chest, a tear swallowing up in it. How could she complicate things so much more than she already had?

  Oh Eve, you stupid girl.

  57

  “How are you feeling?” Eve limped into the kitchen. “You’re hurt.” Trigger came round.

  “It’s my ankle; I landed pretty badly on it last night. I didn’t feel it until this morning really. I think”-

  “It would have been the adrenaline, it’s a benefit to our fight or flight instincts,” Trigger bent down and touched her ankle.

  “Ow,” Eve jumped up from his touch, his hands still holding her leg. There was a closeness about it that sent her heart fluttering. Last night. Things had…transpired.

  “You need to rest,” he put her foot down and took her hand as she balanced.

  “I need to get home.”

  “Not in your condition you don’t,” Trigger picked her up, a hand under her thighs sweeping her off her feet in seconds. She gasped as her arms locked around his neck. He carried her over to the sofa and draped her across it. Eve’s cheeks were hot red. Exactly like last night. There were words unsaid between them, feelings at the surface and now in the daylight she would be so transparent, things would look so different.

  Trigger went into the kitchen and brought out a first aid kit from one of the cabinets. Eve had put on her jeans from last night in an effort to cover her bare legs, though she wished she hadn’t needed it, it had been painful. Her thighs were cut. Trigger rolled up her trouser leg to reveal a large blotch of blue. “It doesn’t look good. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

  “No,” her voice was resolute bringing some of the more confident Eve back to the surface. She couldn’t go to a hospital if those who were looking for her had her name.

  Not like when she was with Roman.

  “Eve,” his gaze held hers. “You’re quite stubborn.”

  “You’re quite strong.” There was a silence between them, she bit her lip.

  “The best thing I can recommend is rest and keeping the weight off for a few days.” Great. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. “Do you want to talk about last night?” Trigger knelt down in front of her. His eyes were crystal blue in the daylight.

  “No,” Eve looked away her cheeks betraying her. Did he mean the kiss or those men?

  “Eve,” his head tilted to the side, so Roman like. “Do you think those guys might have known who you were or do you think it was a coincidence?”

  “I wish it were a coincidence,” her tear ducts brimmed at the corners. “I wish they were men looking for a good time and I was going to be their next victim.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do, because otherwise I’d have to accept they followed me from my house and knew who I was-meaning they probably know where I live and what I do and”-her voice caught in a shudder, the tears escaping down the sides. There was a sting in her chest; Trigger hadn’t been talking about the kiss between them.

  “Eve,” he pressed a hand to her cheek cupping the tears on one side.

  “What can I do?” she said. “What would you do?”

  “We need a plan, a way to keep you safe.”

  “Like what?”

  “Can you change your address?”

  “Wouldn’t they know?” Trigger’s hands held delicately to her ankle. Eve wished he wouldn’t, all the blood was rushing to his touch and she needed to think, to concentrate. “I have a few weeks left on my lease.”

  “Is there a back entrance to your apartment?” Eve nodded. “Can you enter without them seeing?”

  “It’s down a side street, it’s possible they don’t know. It doesn’t get a lot of use.”

  “Alright,” he paused. “If you stay there you can’t go through the front door anymore. You can stay here if you want.”

  “No.” Eve caught herself and sat upright. She’d said it too abruptly and caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. There was too much risk there, too much potential danger of another kind.

  “Is there someone else you could stay with for a while?”

  “I can’t bring anyone else into this.” Eve shook her head thinking of Trisha, she’d never involve her and her son in this. Not anymore. This wasn’t their mess and she couldn’t bare the idea of putting them in harms way. Besides, they were moving soon. Soon enough they’d be gone and out of her life and her troubles.

  …

  It hit her.

  “There is somewhere”-she stammered.

  “Good. What is it?”

  “You might think it’s dumb.”

  “Eve.”

  “Well it’s in the same building. What if I could make them believe I moved out and go through the back entrance? So maybe they eventually stop watching the apartment, because they think I’ve moved.”

  Trigger was quiet. “It’s a long shot. How do you plan on doing that? You can’t fake moving out so easily.”

  “I know someone who’s moving out. What if I occupy their place instead and move out of mine?” Trigger kneaded her ankle with his forefinger, skimming along the arch of her foot.

  “Trigger?”

  “It’s a risk. If they think you’ve moved out they might not think you’d be stupid enough to simply move down the hallway. It’s possible.” Trigger met her gaze, a grim shadow settling under his brow. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “I know.”

  58

  Eve limped into Trisha’s place.

  “Oh my god, what happened to you, sweetie?” Trisha said.

  Eve used a hiking stick to keep the weight off her ankle. She flopped onto the lounge. Jack jumped up onto her lap.

  “I tripped down a dark alley,” Eve said on auto. It was the line she’d rehearsed all the way back to her apartment. Trigger had ordered a Taxi and helped her through the back door which led around the side of the building. It didn’t pass through the front of the apartment so chances were whoever was watching was at the front, if it was just one. Besides, the back alley was completely deserted.

  Eve hoped it was a good sign.

  “What in t
he hell were you doing in a dark alley? Honey, that doesn’t sound like you,” Trisha narrowed her stare, hands on hips.

  “I was desperate,” her doe eyes implored as Trisha brought on her mothering voice. “I needed food. It was late. I thought I could just go to the shops and I tripped. A nice man helped me up and when I woke up this morning it hurt like a”-Eve looked at Jack and covered his ears and mouthed the rest of her words. Her stomach growled. “I haven’t eaten much since then.”

  “Oh sweetie,” Trisha sat down next to her.

  “Any chance you’ve got some food handy. I kinda didn’t make it to the shops with everything last night.” Eve’s eyes rounded, her puppy face full on, the one Trisha couldn’t say no to, hoped she wouldn’t.

  “Sure, you can hang out here, while I pack.”

  “Oh, right,” Eve glanced at the boxes. “Do you know who’s taking your apartment when you go?”

  “I think they’re advertising it next week.”

  “Do you mind if I contact them?” Trisha went to the cupboard and retrieved a plate.

  “Isn’t this one a mirror image of your one?” she chimed as expected.

  “Your view is better than mine,” Eve lied. Well, it was a half lie. Eve’s window faced out to the next building, Trisha’s looked out into the alley and part of it to the front street, not the best hiding spot though she wasn’t going to stand in front of the window anytime soon. The view wasn’t much better. “Plus you’re kitchen’s more up to date than mine.” At least there was truth with the kitchen.

  “Sure, I’ll find the number and give it to you.”

  *

  A few days later, Eve limped out of the front of the apartment carrying a box. She placed it into the back of a white unmarked truck; Trisha had rented it for the move. Despite the injury Eve had insisted on helping out, especially bringing boxes out into the truck. The idea had alarmed her, frankly it was like face time for her observers to see and deduce she was leaving.

  Trisha had gone to run errands and Eve had insisted on carrying the few boxes left out to the truck in the hopes that whoever was watching would believe it was her leaving. Her apartment was close to empty. Eve had moved furniture into Trisha’s place already. The plan was on its way. She prayed, please, the observers would believe it.