Baited Truth

by Hype, Jenn

  When we reached the end, she waited, panting slightly. I climbed up the ladder and pushed on the metal hatch that opened to the far end of Jack's property. Above it sat an electrical box, empty, that served as a cover to the tunnel exit. Peeking my head above ground, I saw that the coast was clear. I climbed the rest of the way out and leaned down, offering Brooke my hand. Before she could grab on, more shots were fired.

  Panic something fierce shot through me. Fuck. Was she hurt?

  Prepared to jump back into the tunnel and throw her above ground if necessary, I stopped short when I heard more shots. These coming from right under me. Brooke was shooting back. She didn't scream and try to claw her way up or curl into the fetal position on the floor. She fucking shot back.

  Oh, I was so fucked when it came to this girl. Every damn thing she did made my cock stir. Bad. Fucking. Timing.

  "Outta my way, loverboy." Brooke pushed herself up, latching onto my hand when I offered it. A big-ass grin on her face. "Hanging out with you is fun. Never a dull moment, eh?" I couldn't help but laugh. Did she ever turn it off?

  More gunshots tore us from our moment. "Car! We need to go find one. Quick."

  My hand grabbed hers, but when I tugged and started running, she gave me resistance. At first I thought she was just fighting me in general, but she was trying to run in the opposite direction and pull me along.

  "Already done. There's our car." She pointed at a blue sedan idling at the curb.

  "I'm not going to carjack someone," I argued while we ran towards the car.

  "Nothing illegal required. I ordered us an Uber while we were in the tunnel. Ya know, before the gunshots and stuff."

  Glancing behind me as we climbed into the car, I saw one of the shooters emerge from beneath the electric box. He didn't spot us, thank God.

  "What the fuck were you thinking?"

  The driver of the car glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Probably because I was practically screaming, which was only amplified inside the tiny car.

  "Um, I was thinking we needed to get out quick, and getting an Uber was faster than hot wiring a car."

  Again the driver glanced back, so I lowered my voice.

  "Did you stop to consider the kind of danger you were putting them in? What if they had caught up to us? You brought an innocent person into this unnecessarily."

  Brooke's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw anger. It wasn't masked by sarcasm or fear. She was pissed.

  "I'm innocent in all of this. I can't speak for you, but I'm assuming you are too. And surprise, Grant, you are not the fucking boss of me. Thank you for helping, but if controlling my every move and thought is what comes with that help, then keep it. However, if you want to team up with me and try to figure this out, since it looks like my mom and your boss are involved, then have at it. But if you can't handle that, we'll part ways now."

  Well, shit.

  She was right. Not knowing if I could trust her had me treating her like a perp in the beginning. Once I'd decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, I'd treated her like a client. Though, if she didn't fall into one of those two categories, where did I put her?

  When was the last time I did anything with anyone outside the job? At work, everything was black and white. Trust the team, take down the bad guys. Yeah, actually nailing the bad guy was messy as fuck, but that was part of the job. When someone hired us to seek justice, we didn't work with them. They trusted us to handle the job. It was different for Brooke. Different for all of us.

  I might be a controlling asshole, but it was to get a job done, not make someone feel like shit. It was obvious Brooke wasn't the enemy, since those people were actively trying to kill her. Jack had made sure all of us understood how important it was not to assign blame before it could be proven. How would he feel knowing how I'd been treating her?

  "You're right. I'm sorry."

  "You're here," the driver spoke up, much to Brooke's relief, it seemed. She obviously didn't expected an apology out of me. Judging by her wide eyes and gaping mouth, I'd say it was about the last thing she expected.

  "So, where to now?" Brooke asked once we were on the sidewalk, watching the car speed away. I had to bite back a smart retort, pointing out that she insisted on making some decisions, so why was she asking me. It was the vulnerability in her eyes that stopped me. She hadn't asked the question with her usual sass, but with an edge of uncertainty.

  Her little speech suddenly made sense. Brooke had more than proved herself capable of taking care of herself in a high risk situation. Me treating her like a defenseless victim must have been incredibly insulting. At first I'd assumed she just had something to prove. To whom, I wasn't sure, but I just chalked all her defiant behavior up to her being stubborn and uncooperative. Something told me it wasn't even about being nice or polite, but about respect. Brooke wanted to be included and treated like one of the team.

  I'd decided to trust her, but I hadn't told her that. Every second with her had felt like a game, a battle for control. But if we were going to both make it out of this alive - and by alive, I mean us not killing each other - then compromises needed to be made. Starting with me.

  "We have what's called a Code Grey. We've never had to use it until today, but Jack had a plan for everything. Essentially, if HQ becomes compromised and we have to split up, we lay low for twenty-four hours. After that we meet up at a designated location, which thankfully, was not in the system. Meaning whoever hacked us shouldn't know about this address. We do it this way to make sure none of us are followed. That way we can't all be taken out at once."

  "Wow," Brooke breathed. Her eyes darted to the ground, but when she brought them to mine again, determination was clear on her face. "So what you guys do must be really dangerous." She held up her hand when I started to talk. "You don't have to tell me. Yet," she warned, her eyes narrowed but her mouth turned up into a smirk. "I trust you."

  Three words. I never realized how important those three words were. What had I done to earn her trust? I wasn't sure, but I was going to make sure I didn't lose it.

  Starting with getting her to safety.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pillow Talk

  Brooke

  "Tell me more about Officer K." Whether or not Grant actually wanted to hear about me or if he was just trying to distract me as a desperate ploy to actually win a hand of poker, I wasn't sure. Lucky for him, I was in a chatty mood.

  "For as long as I can remember he lived across the hall from us in the apartment building I grew up in. Mom worked a lot and Officer K would watch me after school until she got home. He was pretty private about his life. I never knew the reason he retired early. He was my mom's age, but he lived alone and from what I could tell, he didn't have any family. It took many failed attempts on my part before I gave up trying to hook him up with my mom. There was something between them, though, I know it."

  Grant upped the ante and I called. I didn't even bother trying not to laugh when he groaned.

  "Two pair. Read 'em and weep, sucka!"

  I scooped the handfuls of pretzel sticks to my side of the table, not even bothering to hold back the laughter. If we were playing for money, I'd own Grant's car by now.

  "Had enough yet, Masters?"

  "You're cheating. I don't know how, but you're cheating."

  "Are you seriously pouting right now?" Arms crossed, lower lip jutting out past the top one. Yep. Grant was definitely pouting. "Wow. You are seriously a sore loser."

  "Whatever. It's not like we're playing for money. If this were for real, I'd be kicking your ass."

  "Petulance is not an attractive look on you. I prefer the sexy, brooding look. Suits you much better."

  When Grant didn't respond, I stopped gathering the cards and looked at him. I realized my slip when I saw the smug look on his face.

  "Oh my gosh, yes, I think you're sexy. Anyone with eyeballs would think you were sexy. Don't let it go to your head. You're also the most controlling, annoying
and difficult person I've ever met. So come to think of it, you're also sexier when you shut up."

  "Awww, you're so sweet."

  With the rest of the team not meeting up with us for another twenty-plus hours, we had lots of time to kill. The first hour had been awkward and tense. It was obvious neither of us were good at just sitting on our hands and doing nothing. When I found the deck of cards, Grant had been resistant. He clearly wasn't in the mood to play a game or goof around, but there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to spend the entire time we were locked in this cabin together in awkward silence.

  Eventually he caved. The cabin was too small for either of us to really avoid the other, and my nagging wore him down. After a few hands he loosened up. For the next hour I kicked his ass in Texas Hold 'Em. He'd been such a sore loser, but I could tell he was having fun.

  Now that I'd totally cleaned him out, I figured I'd escape for a few minutes by taking a shower. This playful side of Grant was doing funny stuff to my naughty parts. I did not like it. Okay, maybe I liked it a little.

  Making a show of rolling my eyes at him, I made my way towards the bedroom. The little cabin we were holed up in for the next forty-plus hours only had one bedroom. Just the one.

  "I'm gonna grab a shower. You can make dinner while I'm in there. Then I'm gonna get some sleep. You get the couch," I called over my shoulder as I entered the room, shutting the door before he could answer. Did I expect him to make dinner? Of course not. Did I expect him to take the couch? Part of me sure as hell hoped he'd insist on sleeping in the bed with me. The other part of me recognized just how big of a mistake that would be.

  Good thing I wasn't going to be doing anything stupid like asking him to join me. No matter which side won out, pride would keep me in check. We may have taken huge steps in just the last few hours towards trusting each other and - gasp - actually liking each other, but sex was different. I may be stubborn and difficult and challenging, but in the bedroom? There I wanted the man in control.

  I wanted someone who wasn't afraid to take what they wanted, and give without having to be told. A man with confidence. In himself, in his skill, in his ability to read my body. Someone who got just as much pleasure from bringing me to climax as he did from reaching his own. The kind of man who would talk dirty, tell me exactly what he was thinking. What he wanted. What he planned to do. A man who would take his time, take me over and over, take me until I couldn't stand any more.

  Not a damn doubt in my mind - Grant was that kind of man.

  Those thoughts, the ones of what he might do or say to me, lingered during my shower. When my hand trailed up my torso to my chest, I closed my eyes and imagined it was him touching me. His fingers flicking my wet nipple, pinching it to the point of pain. That it was his hand snaking down my body, searching, teasing. Slipping between my thighs, tracing delicate circles with his fingertips. The shower raining down on me had nothing to do with the wetness he would find when he traced my slit. My core already slick from my desire, his finger would enter me easily, moving-

  "Hey, just bringing you some clothes to wear. They'll be huge on you, but at least they're clean."

  My hand tore away from my body, even though the dark curtain wouldn't have allowed him to see anything anyway.

  "Okay, thanks," I said a little too breathily. Hopefully the sound of the shower drowned it out.

  "There are travel size toiletries under the sink just like at HQ, so help yourself. I've got dinner on the stove. Should be done in about twenty minutes."

  Gripping the curtain with my hand, I peeked around it. The little jerk was sitting on the closed toilet like he had no plans of leaving.

  "Um, thanks. You can leave now." If he told me he was staying because he didn't trust me not to do something stupid, like climb out a window, I was going to kick him in the nuts. So when he stood, I sighed in relief. Since we were stuck in this house for two days with each other, fighting was the last thing I wanted to start doing again.

  Only he didn't walk to the door. He walked straight towards me.

  "Need me to wash your back?"

  He was teasing, but that dangerous glint in his eyes told me if I said yes, he wouldn't hesitate to jump right in behind me. As tempting as that sounded, my hunger was directed elsewhere. Whatever he was cooking had wafted into the room, making my stomach growl.

  "Thanks, but I'm pretty flexible. Think I can get it." With a wink I let go of the curtain, laughing to myself when I heard the door shut a little harder than necessary.

  "Just in time." Grant was setting the table twenty minutes later when I joined him in the kitchen. My hair was still wet and the sweats he gave me had to be rolled four times after I pulled the drawstring as far as it would go. I felt, and looked, ridiculous.

  He had changed his clothes while I was in the shower. Loose athletic pants and a fitted tee shouldn't have been sexy, but the way the cotton shirt hugged his broad chest and rock-hard biceps was putting all sorts of dirty thoughts in my head. Combine that with the pants slung low on his hips, making his ripped torso look long and lean, and I was openly gaping. Why bother hiding my reaction? No doubt it was one he got a lot. And he deserved it, because damn, he had to work hard for that body.

  "You're staring again."

  "No shit, have you seen you?" I asked without looking away from his pecs. Like a woman possessed, my feet were on the move, closing the small distance between us. Without permission, my hands lifted to his chest, flattening against the hard wall of muscle. I felt his breath hitch with mine at the first contact, but he didn't stop me, so I kept right on going.

  His muscles rippled as I gently scraped my nails across the fabric of his shirt, imagining what it would be like to dig them into his back while he plunged deep inside of me. The nylon fabric of his pants left little to the imagination, so when my hands reached the band, the jerk of his cock was evident. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, my fingers slipping just inside his waistband.

  If he hadn't chosen right then to grab my wrists, those pants would have been joining me on the floor. Judging by his glassy eyes and ragged, uneven breaths, he knew. Just to be sure, I licked my lips again. His grip on me tightened, like he was warring over whether or not he should push me down to my knees and give me what I wanted. When he closed his eyes, I thought for a second he'd actually let me have my way.

  But when he opened them, the desire was gone. He dropped my wrists and stepped back. Just like that, with the flip of some internal switch, the moment was gone. With quick steps, he was back to stirring something in a pot, pretending I wasn't there. A silent warning, meant to feel like rejection. Too bad for him, it only felt like a challenge.

  #

  ~

  "You cook a mean spaghetti and meatball dinner," I said around a mouthful of noodles. Grant snorted.

  "Yep. It was hard work boiling a pot of water and tossing a box of spaghetti in it. Don't even get me started on the sauce. I mean, getting the jar open was hard work. Then I had to stir it and everything!"

  "No way!" I feigned shock.

  "Oh yeah. All that cooking definitely wore me out, so I think it's only fair you do the cleanup."

  "Awww, you poor baby." I stood and patted his cheek, pouting at him and pulling out the baby talk. "Well, you take that tiny widdle tushy into the bedroom and take a nappy nap. Don't you worry. Momma Brooke-y will take care of it."

  Grant's hand gripped my wrist, holding my flat palm against his cheek. The teasing air surrounding us evaporated, replaced by a stifling tension. Right before my very eyes I watched his pupils dilate, his eyes gloss over and his breathing pick up. Telltale signs of lust that I was sure mirrored my own body's reaction to having him so close.

  I didn't even realize we were moving until I felt my back hit the wall. Grant kept my hands pinned above my head with only one of his large ones, while the other trailed downward. Skimming my jaw with the back of his fingers. Sliding down my shoulder, around and over my breasts. His touch was light, teasing
, until he got to my hip.

  As soon as his fingers gripped my hip, digging into my skin, he pressed his body against mine. We were breathing the same air, no space left between us. Every time I took a breath in, my chest would press against his. The friction was too much for my already hard and sensitive nipples, and a moan escaped before I could stop it.

  "Don't move your hands," he ordered, releasing them without giving me a chance to respond. Shock flickered in his eyes when my hands stayed in place. He didn't expect me to listen. Did he want me to fight him?

  No, that wasn't disappointment darkening his eyes, tightening his pants and shallowing his breathing. My obedience seemed to only stoke the fire already permeating off of him.

  "Spread your legs."

  I did as he asked, letting my feet slide until my legs formed a "V". The movement tugged on the five-sizes-too-big sweats I had on, making them drift slowly down my thighs, stopping when they hit my knees. Grant licked his lips, and the urge to squeeze my legs together to try and soothe the pulsing between them was so strong I had to summon all the willpower I had in me to stay in that position.

  My head fell back against the wall, my eyes squeezed shut while I bit down hard on my lip. I needed a second to pull myself together. Looking at him, seeing his eyes devouring me, it was too much. If he didn't touch me soon, I might actually lose it.

  His hands gripped my thighs, jolting me. I looked down to see him staring hungrily at the place that was already pulsating with need for him. It hadn't occurred to me that I wasn't wearing any underwear. Could he see the telltale signs of desire? I was already so wet for him, it had to be obvious.

  In slow, torturous circles, his thumbs skimmed the insides of my legs. Inch by inch until they hit my pelvic bone. I could feel his hot breath on my skin, and I knew. Right there, right that second - I was going to die. He was just going to sit there driving me to the brink of insanity, and watch as I journeyed to the afterlife at the hands of my libido.