Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Elle Casey

  “So, we’re mutually confused,” he says. A smile starts to turn up the corners of his mouth.

  I nudge him with my foot. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Smiling.”

  His eyebrows go up. “Stop smiling?”

  My face gets hot. “Yes. You’re making me nervous.”

  His grin goes decidedly devious. “Nervous? Why nervous?”

  I kick him again on his boot, harder this time. “Seriously, stop.” I stand, unable to take the pressure anymore.

  He takes one of my hands and looks up at me. “Where are you going?” His fingers are so warm. Too warm. Oh my god.

  “I have to . . . go. I can’t handle this . . . whatever it is.”

  He waits for me to explain.

  Ergh! I can’t take it! I was never good at playing the game. It’s time for some honesty. Someone has to break the ice, right? “It’s just . . . been awhile for me, and I was never that experienced before anyway, so . . .” I shrug and stare at the ground.

  He doesn’t answer right away, so I look up at him.

  He’s frowning. “What exactly are you talking about?”

  I blow out a big frustrated breath of air and then let the words just fly out of my mouth. They can’t be contained any longer. “Sex, duh. What are you talking about?”

  He stands, still hanging onto my hand. “I was talking about your workouts.”

  My face blanches and it’s suddenly very difficult to breathe. My voice comes out like a croak. “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed. I have to go.” I try to yank my hand from his and move around him, but he won’t let go.

  He’s smiling again.

  What in the hell?! Why is he grinning at me like that?!

  “Would you quit that?!”

  His smile turns into chuckles.

  I stare at him and realize then that he’s been messing with me. This whole time. Maybe since the moment I met him.

  “Oh my god, you are so incredibly bad.” I can feel the red coming back to my face, crawling up my chest, to my neck, all the way to my forehead. No man has ever made me blush like he has.

  “I am?” He moves closer to me.

  “You’ve been completely messing with me. This entire time.” I can’t decide whether to sing with joy or kick him in the crotch. I still don’t know what’s going on, but now I know there’s chemistry between us, on both sides. I cannot possibly be imagining everything.

  “Don’t be mad.” He’s trying to be cute now.

  “Mad? Me? Please.” I step away from him to put some distance between us. Mostly because I can think better when he’s not so close. “It’s going to take a lot more than a guy yanking my chain to piss me off.” I start to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, letting my hand slide from his.

  “I’m going to go eat some late lunch.”

  He leans over, grabs my hand, and yanks me back, catching me off guard. I stumble and fall into him. He catches me in his arms as if we were just performing a swing-dancing move.

  “You forgot to say good-bye.” He’s leaning over me, a twinkle in his eye.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Memories of our lobster dinner and him at my door saying good-bye with a kiss come rushing back. He liked it too! He wants a repeat performance just like I do! I’m going to have a heart attack right here at work!

  A door opens above us. I panic, standing quickly and pulling myself out of his grip. Stealing a kiss now and again is one thing; letting other employees know something’s going on is another. No way, José. I’ll lose every ounce of credibility I have with my coworkers, and when that respect only comes in half-ounces at a time, every drop counts.

  “Good-bye, Ozzie. Have a nice afternoon.” I walk away with my chin up and my cheeks blazing red, flicking my hair over my shoulder as I go. I can do this. I can be completely cool when my insides are melting like a bar of chocolate left in the hot Louisiana summer sun.

  Lucky is coming down the stairs in my direction, when I reach the first step. He has a singlestick in his right hand.

  “I hear you’re on the injured list,” he says, pausing when we’re at the same level. The weapon hangs at his side. He doesn’t even act like it’s there, as if it’s just a part of his outfit, like a belt or a watch.

  Hmmm, strange. Do they use those upstairs? They must or why would it be there? I don’t say anything, because maybe that’s normal for them. Maybe they just walk around with weapons for no reason.

  “Nah, no injured list for me,” I say, ignoring the pain that still racks my every muscle. “I’m fine.”

  “You got the surveillance equipment up?”

  “Yes, we did.” I grin with pride, glad to have something to talk about other than my injuries or lack of sex and the desire to have lots of it with Ozzie.

  “Well done.” He gives me a fist bump. I think it’s the first one I’ve ever executed in my life. “Catch you tomorrow?”

  “You’re done for the day?”

  “Gotta go to the police station and talk to some detectives, so I’m going to miss the afternoon excitement.”

  I glance back over my shoulder. Ozzie is watching us. “Excitement?” I face Lucky again, not sure I understand. I thought I was going upstairs for a meeting. The last one was interesting, but I don’t know that I’d call it exciting, per se.

  Lucky glances at Ozzie and frowns for a second before turning his attention back to me. “Yeah. The progress briefing. We usually have them every couple days.”

  I nod. “Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Hey, do you mind?” He holds out the singlestick.

  “Mind . . .?”

  “Taking this upstairs for me. I meant to leave it up there, but I guess I was distracted and kept it in my hand instead.”

  I smile. “Oh, sure. No problem. Where do you want me to put it?”

  He starts to grin and then stops immediately. “Give it to Dev.”

  “Okaaaaay.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out why he’s trying so hard to appear serious when he clearly wants to smile. Examining the stick tells me nothing; it looks like it always does, about three feet long and an inch in diameter, thicker at the end where Lucky was holding it. I find it balances better if I hold it at that wider end too. It’s kind of heavy, but not so much that I can’t wield it. Maybe later I’ll ask Ozzie how to actually use it.

  He hops down the last few stairs. “See you later.”

  “Yeah, okay. Later.”

  I continue up the stairs, stopping at the digital keypad by the door. Whose name was on this side of the door for the code? Was it Toni? I press in T-O-N-1, but nothing happens. Okay, so it’s not Toni’s door. That makes it . . . Thibault’s door? I press in T-B-O-1 and hear a click. Even though I know Ozzie’s down there watching me screw up, I smile. I did finally get it done, right? I’m not a complete nincompoop when it comes to this security stuff.

  I pull the door open, and a flash of movement catches my eye.

  “Hooraaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” screams a loud voice, a definite war cry.

  Something silver flashes in front of my face, and a giant, white beast surges toward me.

  I scream bloody murder and jump back, closing my eyes and swinging the singlestick out in front of me with all my frightened might, sore muscles be damned. I make solid contact with something.

  “Oooph!” says a loud voice as the singlestick hits its mark.

  I open my eyes and see Dev bent over, holding his middle. In his other hand he’s gripping a big sword that now dangles down by his leg.

  “Did you . . .? Did you . . .?” I can’t even process what I’m seeing right away. Then I can and I’m pissed. “Did you just come at me with a samurai sword?!”

  “I tried,” he says, grunting the words out.

  I lift the stick up and whack him on the back of his shoulder with it.

  “Aaaawwww, shit!” he yells. “What was that for?!” His back
is arched and leaning on a diagonal as he twists away from the pain.

  “That was for scaring the shit out of me, you idiot!” I drop the singlestick at his feet with a clatter and shove past him. “Here’s your stupid stick, dummy. Don’t ever do that to me again!”

  He falls to the right when I push him, landing against the doorjamb and sliding down to the floor onto his side.

  “Your reflexes are much better than I thought they’d be,” he grunts out, pain lacing his voice.

  I’m almost through the room and into the kitchen when I answer him. “You just got your ass handed to you by someone you like to call Bo Peep. If I were you, I’d start questioning my ability to read people.”

  Toni and Thibault are sitting at the table, grinning from ear to ear, when I enter the kitchen.

  “You knocked him out, didn’t you?” Toni asks. She’s still smiling as she bites into a sandwich.

  “No. I just tapped him.”

  “Sounded like more than a tap.”

  Dev comes limping into the kitchen, his shirt off. There’s a red welt on his stomach. “Do I have a bruise?” he asks, turning his back to the table.

  I lower myself into a seat, trying not to feel bad about the welt that’s there too. It’s definitely going to hurt for a while.

  “Not yet, but you will,” Thibault says. “I warned you not to sneak up on her.”

  Pride fills my soul. Thibault believes I can’t be taken down with a samurai sword sneak attack? Cool. Maybe I am a badass after all. I take a napkin from the stack and select a sandwich from a tray of them in the middle of the table. I have no idea what it is, but I’m going to eat it anyway. I’m that starving. Something about having someone come at me with a sword, and yet living through it, makes me especially hungry.

  “She needs training,” Dev says.

  “I suggest you do some other kind of training,” I say, chewing a bite of what I’ve determined is a turkey sandwich. “Not sneak attacks.”

  “Gotta keep your reflexes sharp.” Dev sits down and helps himself to six sandwiches. No one bats an eyelash at his appetite.

  “Seems like your own reflexes might be getting a little rusty,” Thibault says.

  “Nah. I had a sword. I didn’t want to use it on her. She’s not ready.”

  I swallow a bit of sandwich that’s pretty much turned to sawdust in my mouth at his words. “Ready? You actually think I’ll be ready someday to be attacked by someone with a sword?”

  “If I’m doing my job right, yeah.” Dev winks at me, his mouth full of food. “You’ll be all right. Trust the process.”

  I shake my head while I take another bite. “You’re crazy.” I’m very rudely talking around some tomato, but I don’t care. Anyone who sneak-attacks me forfeits the right to enjoy my good manners. I have to admit, though, I am kind of excited about the idea of being that highly trained, but there’s nothing in me that wants to face a sword being used against me for real. I joined this team to take pictures, not fight ninjas, for God’s sake.

  Ozzie enters the room and takes his seat at the head of the table. “How’d it go today?” He’s looking at Toni, so I keep my mouth shut. I’m glad she’s his focus, because I’m kind of worried about him addressing me directly. I don’t trust myself not to go all goo-goo eyes on him.

  “Good,” she says, oblivious to my discomfort. “Got eyes on the back of the house. We’ll need to change the battery in a couple days on that one. The Parrot’s on the pole, so we have bird’s-eye. Bo Peep got some shots of someone who came outside while we were there.”

  I pause my chewing. I probably should have brought that camera upstairs to the meeting so they could review the pictures I took. Dammit. Rookie mistake. Grrr, I hate that.

  “I can show you the pictures if you want. I just have to go downstairs . . .”

  Ozzie waves a hand at me. “Later. What happened with the guy?”

  Toni shrugs. “He was walking his dog.”

  “Who’d he see? Both of you?”

  “No, just me.”

  “All right, I don’t want you going back there for the time being.”

  Toni drops her sandwich onto her napkin. “What the hell, man? He didn’t make me.”

  Ozzie goes rigid. “We lost Harley. We have no solid confirm they made me, but if they did, we can’t have them seeing the same person twice in the ’hood, you got it?”

  She scowls, but nods all the same. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “You can run through the images once they come in and see what there is to see.”

  She nods once and goes back to her sandwich. She’s definitely not happy.

  “What do you think?” he asks, looking at me.

  I scan the faces waiting expectantly for my answer, hoping to glean a possible direction from them, but they give me nothing. I sigh in defeat. The rookie hot seat. I already hate being on this thing, and it’s only been my place for two days.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  What do I think about what?” I ask. I hate being put on the spot. I wasn’t prepared. What if I sound stupid? I haven’t had any spy training yet. I don’t even know the right lingo.

  “What do you think about the work you did today?” Ozzie explains. “Any thoughts?”

  “Well . . .” I think about it for a few seconds before continuing. “It went well, I guess. One person did see us, but he thought we were with the electric company. Toni said we were with the phone company. We watched him; he didn’t look up at the drone at all.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Mmmm . . . well, I was just wondering . . . it doesn’t have anything to do with what we did today, but how did they discover your Harley identity? Back in the bar, when I was there with Felix. You said it was my fault.”

  “The guy who took a shot at us was part of their group. If he shot at me, it means he knew something was up. I have to assume it had something to do with you walking in with your dog in that bag, because before that happened, everything seemed fine. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but I was looking at you and when he noticed, he got suspicious. When I went to help you, it just confirmed for him that I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. You aren’t exactly Harley’s type.”

  “What he means is, he was acting like a good guy and not a bad guy,” Toni says, probably noticing the confusion on my face.

  “Yeah.” Ozzie nods. “Right. I stepped out of character. Bad idea in a crowd like that. They tend to be very paranoid.”

  I’m trying to picture the scene. I can’t remember the guy Harley was standing with. Was it the man who shot at us? “You’re talking about that bald guy with the mustache and the giant mole on his cheek?”

  “You saw all that?” Ozzie’s gone all intense on me again. Man, his moods shift like the wind.

  “Sure. He was looking right at me right after he fired that gun. You were trying to pull me off the table, but I thought my sister was there, so I was hanging on pretty tight. I was facing him the whole time.”

  Thibault lets out a long stream of air.

  “What?” I look around at everyone exchanging glances. They’re obviously worried.

  “You said she was followed home,” Thibault says to Ozzie. “That’s not good.”

  “I have my security system now, though, and no one’s bothered me at all.” I’m not sure what I’m arguing against, but clearly they’re making some kind of plan among them. Everyone gets it but me.

  “She should stay here,” Thibault says. Then he jumps in surprise and turns to glare at his sister.

  I look at her, trying to figure out why she’d kick him under the table for that. Does she not want me to be here? Is she worried about Ozzie and me? Does she like him? Oh, God, that would be terrible. And Toni and I were becoming friends, I’m sure of it!

  Love triangle. Dammit.

  I decide to watch them closer. The last thing I want to do is horn in on some other woman’s territory, even if it is Ozzie on the line.

  “You’re right.” Ozzie l
ooks at me, a very determined expression taking over. “I’ll bring you home so you can pack a bag.”

  “You want backup?” Toni asks, her chin a little higher than normal.

  “No, we got it.”

  I raise a finger.

  Ozzie lifts a brow. “Yes? You have a question?”

  I smile politely, lowering my arm. “More like a comment. I don’t want to sleep here.”

  “She doesn’t like the cot,” Thibault says. “You should give her your bed.”

  “It’s not the cot.” The words rush out of me in an effort to stop that conversation as quickly as possible. Just the idea of being in Ozzie’s bed makes me break out in a cold sweat. “It’s just that I have Felix and I can’t leave him behind, and it’s my home, so it has all my things in it.” The excuse sounds lame even to my own ears.

  “It’s the same as going on vacation,” Toni says, not sounding very impressed. “Your house can survive without you for a few days until we assess the threat. What are you worried about over there? Plants?”

  “I do have plants, as a matter of fact.” Not that they’ll miss me. They only need to be watered once a week, since they’re all in the shade. I’m just worried about the stupid things I’ll say and be tempted to do living in Ozzie’s space with him for several days. My willpower can only manage so much.

  “We’ll take care of the plants, if necessary.” Ozzie motions for Thibault to hand him something. Thibault gives him a folder.

  “But . . .”

  Ozzie looks up from the file he was opening. “You’re an employee of this company. I can’t send you back home if it’s a dangerous place to be. I’m sorry. Hopefully, we’ll neutralize any issues in a matter of days, and your plants won’t have time to dry out.”

  My jaw drops open. I’m being railroaded into this, and while the idea of living with Ozzie is not entirely unpleasant, I don’t like the feeling that I don’t have a choice in the matter.

  “I appreciate what you’ve said, and I thank you for your concern, but I’m afraid I’m going to decline your offer.” I nod so they can see how serious I am. I’ll sleep with my door locked and a big kitchen knife under my pillow. I’ll be fine. Maybe Dev will loan me that singlestick. I seem to have a knack for it.