He didn’t say anything and continued to stare at the doors as the elevator continued its climb down.
“Listen, maybe next time you could treat my wife with a little more respect.”
Caid had enough. He slammed Jameson into the wall of the elevator and got so close to his face, he could see the way the coward’s pupils dilated.
“Listen, you fucking moron. She was my fiancé before she was your wife. Or have you forgotten you fucked her in my bed while we were still engaged? You and Brittany need to back the fuck up and keep your distance, because I don’t have the time or patience to deal with either of you.”
The doors opened, and at the gasps of the onlookers, Caid released him. Nearly everyone in the building knew what had happened, and Jameson certainly deserved it and a lot more. Still, Caid didn’t want to be the center of the conversation anymore. He was tired of ducking consoling conversations and sad looks.
He headed for the parking garage and got into his vehicle to meet his team. Once he was behind the wheel, he took a deep breath and then put the car in gear. He’d be damned if Jameson made him late to his own bust.
Caid parked behind the SWAT vehicle already in place, and strapped his vest on.
“We ready?” he asked the team waiting for him.
“Yes sir, just waiting on you.”
“All right, let’s do this.”
The timer went off on Jemma’s oven, and she looked up at the clock. She had been reading for nearly three hours, and now her stomach grumbled telling her it was time for lunch. She pulled the fridge door open, and lifted one of the salads she had prepped for the week.
Doing her weekly meal prep let her make one trip to the store a week, which helped to keep her anxiety level low. Her apartment was her safe place, but also the staging area in the event of an attack. She stored backup food and weapons, and memorized the building’s layout, which made her confident that as long as she kept her wits about her she would be able to escape.
The routine allowed her to feel some sort of normalcy, even though her life had been anything but ever since she had escaped. Then again, she supposed her life had never been normal.
Jemma walked to the window and looked down at the bustling street. People were coming and going, each wrapped up in their own lives. A family walked below her, and her heart yearned. There had been a time when she had dreamed she would get to have a family of her own. Get to raise her kids and love a man who loved her in return. But like the rest of her childhood, that dream went up in smoke.
After she finished eating, she slipped into her black leggings and hoodie, grabbed her duffel, and headed out the door. Fresh air filled her lungs, and she breathed it in deeply. There was a time when she wasn’t even allowed to venture outside. It had been months before she was allowed to breathe anything but the stifling air inside her father’s estate. Her windows had all been sealed, and she had been confined to her room.
How many times had she been punished and stuck in the dark for days at a time? She shut her eyes. She wasn’t there anymore, but the claustrophobia had stuck with her.
She walked a few blocks before climbing into a cab. She never got into one anywhere near her apartment building. She told him the address of her destination, and then looked out of the window as he pulled away from the curb.
Jemma was headed for her weekly trip to the gun range. There were three within driving distance of her, and she alternated which ones she attended. Something about putting rounds into a paper target was immensely satisfying. It burned off nearly as much stress as the boxing did.
When the cab pulled up in front of the brick building, Jemma paid him and stepped out onto the street. She was giddy with excitement -- excited to feel the now familiar weight of the firearm in her hands.
It had taken her a while to get cleared to attend the range. They were stringent on their policies and who they let in. She had managed to get her hands on a complete new identity, and once that had been established, she sweat bullets -- pun intended -- as she awaited the background check the range ran on her.
A lot of cops frequented this range, and it made her feel both comfortable and incredibly nervous at the same time. It was a fine line she walked between being innocent and a criminal.
She put on her ear protection and slipped her safety glasses on before walking to the lane she had been assigned. Once she stood behind the counter, she put her target up and sent it back. Then she loaded a magazine and slipped it into the bottom of the gun in a routine that had become second nature to her. When she pulled the trigger and saw the first round meet its target, she smiled and let herself get lost in the strange peace and comfort it brought her.
4
Caid stepped into the brick building and made his way to the front desk. The bust had gone somewhat as planned, and while they hadn’t gotten their hands on The Runner, they had put an end to one of his packaging warehouses in the area.
Jameson had thankfully gone his own way without bugging Caid once the raid was over, and that in itself was a small miracle. Still, he had some major steam to blow off before he went to the gym to meet a gorgeous blonde he wanted to hit the mats with.
Should he ask her to dinner? Maybe he could start small and just ask her to grab a drink?
“Hey, Agent King!” Andy, the manager, greeted him as Caid handed over his badge and ID.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Caid shook Andy’s hand and took his ID back.
“It’s going. Headed to Dallas this weekend for a gun expo. I’m pretty stoked about it.”
“I bet. That sounds like it’ll be fun.”
“I hope so. You’re on lane seven.”
“Perfect.”
“Have fun.”
“I always do.” Caid smiled, and after putting on his safety gear, walked to the lane. As he was walking, he couldn’t help but appreciate the woman in lane eight and the way she was handling the firearm. From where he was, it appeared to be a .45. He didn’t know many women who were comfortable holding that much steel in their hands.
As he got closer, the recognition was immediate. He had just been thinking about her, and now here she was. Maybe if he thought about them on a date, she wouldn’t say no when he asked. Because after seeing her hold a gun, he definitely needed to ask.
He watched her for a moment, and when she went to reload, he touched her shoulder gently.
She turned, and he saw the fleeting panic cross her face before it turned to surprise, and if he wasn’t mistaken, some mistrust.
“Hi!” he yelled so she could hear him with her ear phones on.
“Hi back!”
“It seems we keep running into each other!”
She smiled. “It definitely does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
“That a .45?”
She nodded. “A Springfield.”
“I’m impressed!”
She continued loading her magazine and then took her stance again. He lost himself in the way she focused on the target, and when every round she sent downrange met their destination, decided he was just going to have to marry her.
Caid spent nearly the entire hour he was there watching Jemma. He was too impressed to feel creepy about it, and every time she unloaded and reloaded, he would ask her a random question so she didn’t just think he was a weirdo.
When she began packing up, he grabbed his gun bag and followed her out to the lobby.
“That was impressive in there,” he commented as they walked to the parking lot.
“Thanks. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Eh, it’s the closest one to my apartment, and I know the manager.”
“Andy? He seems nice.”
Jealousy flared momentarily in Caid’s mind until she turned and smiled at him.
“Will I see you at the gym later?” she asked as she searched the street for what Caid guessed was a cab.
“Yeah. I was actually about to grab a coffee. You interested?”
She hesitated
, and for a moment, Caid was worried she would say no, but after a second she nodded. “I could go for a caffeine boost.”
“Awesome.” He all but beamed at her, and then headed down the street toward the nearest coffee shop.
They ordered their coffees, and Jemma led him to a seat at the back where they were near an emergency exit but away from any windows. He wondered if it had anything to do with why she had been in a panic yesterday.
“So, what do you do when you aren’t shooting paper targets or beating the crap out of unsuspecting men at the gym?” Caid asked as he took a drink.
Jemma smiled slightly, and Caid caught sight of a slight dimple in her cheek. “Not much. I read a lot.”
“What do you like to read?”
She blushed. “Romance mostly.”
“My sister is a big reader. She is even working on writing her first book.”
“Really? That’s awesome! I always wanted to write.”
“Did you ever?”
“No,” she answered sadly, “I never got the chance.”
“What do you do now? For work?”
Jemma swallowed hard. This was why she didn’t socialize. She didn’t have answers for the simplest questions. “I’m in between jobs right now. I had some money saved up, so I’ve been living on that until I decide what I want to do next. What about you? You said you have a sister?”
Caid laughed. “I do; she’s my only sibling.”
“Your parents?”
“They are currently living it up on a cruise somewhere in the Caribbean.”
“That’s nice.”
“They’re enjoying it. Crap, hang on.” Caid stood when his phone rang, stepping away from the table to answer it.
She watched him as he spoke, noting the subtle changes in his body movements. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he’d been only seconds before. A few minutes passed, and he returned to the table.
“I need to run back to my office. See you later?”
She nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
Caid got to the gym early so he could get a warm up in before his sparring session with Jemma. Coffee with her had been the highlight of his day. Well, that, and watching her shoot a gun with precision most of the agents in the office only wished they had.
He walked straight to the treadmill, and after putting his ear buds in, started a walk to heat his still sore muscles. He pushed the speed up and ran to the beat of the rock playing in his ear. Closing his eyes, he imagined he was running outside rather than in this crowded gym, and mentally went through the raid over again.
They had busted in to find seven men packaging a shit-ton of cocaine. They scattered, and shots were fired. Caid had taken down two men who had trained their Glocks on him, and he even took down one who would have killed Jameson. Fucker should feel grateful, he thought to himself.
There had been no one else in the building, and the others had laid their weapons down and surrendered. No one had talked yet, but he was hoping after they sweated it out a bit, things might change.
They had to catch a break on this guy. Dude was a ghost and managed to stay out of their line of sight every single time. It didn’t even matter that they had taken down one of his op locations; two more would sprout up right behind it, and they would be even further away from catching him. What they needed was someone with some inside information.
Caid opened his eyes just as Jemma stepped into the gym. Their eyes met, and he slowed the treadmill for his cool down. Damn, he thought, she sure is something.
She wore skin-tight shorts and a zip-up sweatshirt. Her gym bag was slung over her shoulder, and her blonde hair had been pulled back into a braid. He stopped the treadmill, and had to catch himself when he tripped. Thankfully, she had been distracted by the manager -- what was her name? Mikel, maybe? -- and hadn’t seen.
He wiped the sweat from his face and headed down the steps toward where they stood talking.
“Hey, Jemma,” Caid said with a grin. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” She smiled.
“You two have fun.” Mikel nudged Jemma, and Caid smiled. Someone was trying to play matchmaker. “I blocked it off for the afternoon, so the room is yours!” she called, heading back to the counter.
“Good day?” he asked her as they walked into the training room.
“The same as it was when you last saw me. Yours?” She bent over, and he got a sinfully arousing look at her ass in tight shorts. It should be illegal to wear those in public. He should know, he was a cop after all.
“Same.” He tried to look innocent when she stood and faced him. But, dammit, if she didn’t unzip that sweatshirt and reveal nothing but a black sports bra underneath. Fuck, he was in trouble. “Do you need to warm up?” he asked, trying desperately to keep his eyes on her face.
“A little, if you don’t mind?” She stepped onto the mats and started stretching.
Jemma dropped to the mats to stretch out her back and legs, and then stood. “You really don’t mind sparring with me?” she asked as she put her fingerless gloves onto her hands.
“Not at all. You don’t mind sparring with me? I know I’m no Mikel.”
Jemma laughed slightly. “You’re damn good, Caid, and you’re larger than me, which makes things more interesting and forces me to fight harder.”
“I meant to ask you earlier, how are things? Better than yesterday?”
Jemma nodded, but Caid didn’t miss the way her features darkened. Whatever had been bothering her was still lurking.
“I told you how my sister gets panic attacks. I know you don’t know me, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m all ears.”
“Thanks.” She smiled softly, but didn’t elaborate.
“And if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine with me too. I’m all about sweating out your problems.”
“That why you’re so fit?” she asked sarcastically as she stepped back toward the mats.
“My ex-fiancé married my ex-best friend, whom I still have to see daily, so yeah that’s probably why I’m so fit.”
“Ouch.”
He laughed, but there was little humor in it. “Yeah, but everything happens for a reason I suppose.”
They tapped gloves, and the match began.
“Wanna grab a coffee?” Caid asked as they stepped out onto the street.
“Again? It’s seven at night.”
He shrugged. “I like coffee.”
Jemma studied the sky. It would be getting dark soon, and she had no interest in being out when it did. “Maybe another time. I’ve got some things I need to do.” She smiled and headed toward her apartment.
“Same time tomorrow?” he called out, and she offered him a wave without looking back.
What had she been thinking? Jemma scolded herself as she walked quickly back home. Her sparring sessions with Mikel had never lasted that long. She knew why, of course. Being around Caid was resurrecting a part of herself she had thought died a long time ago.
It was dangerous, though. She was getting careless with her routine. Get in, sweat out the anxiety, get home, and all before dark. She looked up. Only one more block to go, and she would be home.
She thought back on Caid, and a small smile played at her lips. Exercising with him was a fun challenge, and it forced her to step a little outside of her comfort zone. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.
She reached the steps of her apartment building and stared up at the stars just starting to shine. When was the last time she looked up at the stars? Watched the city lights as they blurred past her?
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she looked over to see Maria walking toward her.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Maria asked with a smile.
“Just getting back from the gym. It’s a nice night, so I thought I’d take a minute and look at the stars.” Jemma smiled. Maybe she should have taken Maria up on that night out.
“It is a nice night, isn’t it?” Maria r
eturned her smile and reached into her purse.
Jemma didn’t get a chance to fight back as the rag was placed over her nose and mouth. She simply fell backwards as the world turned to black.
5
Caid stepped into his apartment and tossed his keys on the entry table. He dropped his gym bag and headed for the fridge to grab a beer. It had been a long damn day. Ended well though, he thought to himself as images of Jemma came to mind.
She really was something. She fought with intense focus and strategy, and he wished he could say he held back when they hit the mat. But just like she had yesterday, she schooled him with form. Strength could only take you so far if your opponent knew what they were doing.
She was someone who seemed to believe that doing something wasn’t worth shit unless you were doing it to the best of your ability. She did not do things half-assed, unlike Brittany. He very nearly growled to himself. Who the fuck was she to come waltzing back into his life that way? For all Caid cared, she could fall off the face of the damn planet.
He stepped toward his bedroom and turned when he noticed the throw pillows his sister had forced him to buy were not in their usual order. His mind went on high alert as he set his beer down and grabbed for the gun he kept on top of his fridge.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Caid turned to see the owner of the voice standing just outside his bedroom door holding a gun trained on Caid’s chest.
“Who are you?”
“Just someone who has a message for you.”
Caid straightened and studied the man who stood before him. He looked normal enough, except for the patch covering his right eye. The dude was built more like a quarterback rather than a linebacker, which certainly boded well for Caid if it came down to hand to hand. Still, there was the matter of the gun.
“So, is shooting me the message?”
The man shook his head. “You’ve been sniffing around my boss, making trouble for him, and that doesn’t sit well with me.”
The Runner's Daughter Page 3