Chapter 7
It was a setup. It has to be.
Bullets fly everywhere around the market. Screaming and the color red are all I register. How did this happen? I hadn’t even shown myself out in the open. I hadn’t drawn my gun. They couldn’t have known I was on their tail, and yet…
A girl who can’t be more than ten falls at my feet, a bullet through her eye. I turn away, wanting to retch. Gray’s words echo in my head. “Don’t miss the exit point we agreed upon.”
It's the only thing I can do now. Make it to the rendezvous.
I finally move, crouching low and ducking behind overturned market stalls. It’s chaos as people try to run. Only a few cower behind wooden crates or tables.
Five hundred feet. I only have to make it five hundred feet. I take in a shaky breath and move again, keeping my attention on the directions the bullets are coming from.
I almost make it to the next stall that was selling fresh fish from the Mediterranean when I feel the sharp pain of a bullet and the hot trail of blood running down my shoulder.
Bolting upright, I’m once again drenched in sweat. I let my head fall into my trembling hands, wanting to cry. Nothing comes. Only the hot embers of rage boiling deep within me.
Too familiar a feeling.
Taking a few deep breaths, I finally move from the lonely bed and make my way to the shower.
I drown the anger and shaking hands with scalding water.
When I’m finished, I dress in my workout gear.
I know it’s early—not yet 5 am—but I make my way to the office anyway.
I plan to warm up and hopefully get the memories to leave my head before Owen shows up.
The moment the key card clicks open the door, I know I shouldn’t have come early. A flash of long, brown hair whips around, belonging to a half-naked woman. Strong arms wrap around her, and green eyes meet mine across the room. Stumbling backward, I immediately close the door.
My heart races, and the sight of Owen with that woman does nothing to help the rage that’s already there.
I make to leave when I hear the door open behind me.
His voice is a low, rough rumble with a hint of laughter. “Leaving so soon, Miss Riley?”
Of course, he finds this situation amusing.
I freeze and take a deep breath, plastering a sweet smile on my face before turning around. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…” I wave my hands awkwardly. “Whatever that is.”
What is wrong with me?
Owen smiles and, of course, it's large enough to see that dimple. He cocks his head to the side. “She was just leaving.”
I take a step closer to him. “That didn’t look like leaving to me.”
Owen doesn’t stop smiling as he takes a step toward me. “And what did it look like, Miss Riley?”
Narrowing my gaze, I try to decide if this is another test. Of course, I know his reputation. Everyone does. And I’m too tired and angry from my dream to give a shit.
I decide to be myself. “It looked like you were making out with a half-naked, beautiful woman, and I interrupted.”
Owen’s eyes widen slightly, the only indication of his surprise, but he’s all charm as he responds, “It was a goodbye kiss. As I said, she was just leaving.”
“Don’t have her leave on my account. I can grab a coffee and some breakfast. Maybe take a long, looong walk. Or perhaps you only need me to take a short walk?” I can’t help the sarcasm or the anger that wants release.
Owen shocks me by laughing, without noticing he’s moved only inches from me. “A kind offer, but she’s going.”
As if on cue, the beautiful woman walks out of the office, dressed in a barely-there, black, sparkly dress, hiding the lacy lingerie I spotted only minutes ago.
She stops and kisses Owen on the cheek. He doesn’t turn to face her, holding my stare the whole time.
“See you later, Owen,” she says. “Thanks for the ride last night.”
I choke on a laugh as she continues down the hallway, not even acknowledging my presence.
Owen smiles. “Something funny, Miss Riley?”
Shaking my head, I side-step him and make my way into the office. “Was it a long ride? A good one?” I can’t help myself, though I know the words are highly inappropriate for an employee.
He laughs. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. One that energizes the whole room.
I turn. He’s leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. Shirtless, of course.
“You didn’t list sense of humor on your resume, Miss Riley.”
Shrugging, I drop my bag on my office chair and scan the room again. At least they were neat, except for the bar, which is littered with more dirty glasses and empty alcohol bottles.
“You don’t look ready for a fight, Mr. Mills,” I comment, returning my attention to him.
He pushes off the door, stopping at the space in the middle of all the gym equipment. He sweeps his hands around. “Never been more ready, Miss Riley.”
Reaching into my bag, I pull out a cloth to wrap my raw knuckles, hopefully preventing them from ripping open again.
Owen watches me. “No need to fear. Only a light sparring session to get the blood flowing this morning.”
“You didn’t just do that?” I ask, trying to sound genuine, but my smile gives me away.
“I didn’t know I’d have to dodge your bad jokes when I hired you,” he says, but the grin gives him away, too.
I step in front of him. Whether I want to admit it or not, fighting is my happy place. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. “We warm up first. Take turns with practice jabs and hooks, then we can play.”
He grins back at me and nods. “Ladies first.”
Ignoring the tone of his voice and the insinuation, I start moving, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I raise my arms. He does the same, splaying his hands so I can aim for them.
I hit his palms over and over again, and everything else falls away. Even my rage lowers to a light simmer as sweat begins to pour down my chest.
Owen doesn’t speak when it’s his turn, clearly lost in the same trance. His hits are practiced. Perfect. Beautiful even.
Of course, I’d never admit that to him.
Owen suddenly stops and pulls back. He’s breathing hard and staring at me.
I drop my arms.
“You ready, Miss Riley?” he asks, recovering his breath shockingly fast.
“As I’ll ever be. What are the rules?”
“The only rule is we can’t knock each other out, and no swollen faces. I have meetings I need to look pretty for.” He smirks.
“Meetings? Or beautiful women?”
“Both?”
Rolling my eyes, I raise my arms again, anxious to finish this. “Let’s go. I won’t damage your pretty face, don’t worry.”
“You think I’m pretty?” The words are barely out of his mouth when I swing my fist toward his so-called pretty face. He ducks at the last second, backing up.
The bastard has the nerve to smile.
I don’t give him time to recover, swinging with my left arm. He blocks it, and I come up with my right, making contact with his jaw.
It is hard enough for him to feel, but it shouldn’t leave a mark.
He recovers quickly, his smile gone now. He manages to get in a few hits, but the majority go to me.
“Protect your left side,” I bark at him.
He laughs. “So bossy.”
“I’m desperately trying not to damage that beautiful face of yours, but you’re making it too goddamn easy.”
He puffs out air. “Cocky, are we, Miss Riley? And did you now promote me to beaut—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence as a series of punches steals the air from his lungs. He taps out.
I step back, allowing him to crumple at the waist, gasping for breath.
When he recovers enough to speak, he says, “Once again, don’t ever let me get on your bad side, Miss Riley. If that was only a fraction of what you can do, I have no desire to know what one hundred percent looks like.”
I laugh, which has Owen straightening and meeting my blue eyes with his green ones.
“I must admit, Mr. Mills, that was quite fun. You also don’t give yourself much credit. You’re the strongest partner I’ve had in a long time.”
It’s the truth. We used to have boxing competitions with the field agents. I won almost every one of them. The only person who could ever beat me was Declan, and now that he’s the director, he doesn’t compete. As a result, I don’t either. I don’t find them quite the same as they used to be.
This match with Owen was a surprise. A good surprise. One that has the rage melting away as he stares at me.
“That was definitely not on your resume, Miss Riley.”
I laugh again. “Didn’t know that was a necessary skill to list for a personal assistant position.”
He studies me with such intensity that I want to cower, but I hold my ground.
“It sure is an interesting one. Who taught you to fight like that?” he asks.
I run a hand across my sweaty brow, suddenly needing to look anywhere but at him.
“After my father died, a friend of mine taught me. He said it’d help with the grief.
And the anger.” None of it is a lie, and I wonder why the hell I am telling him so many truths.
This isn’t the role I’m supposed to be playing. I’m supposed to be someone else.
“And does it?”
I look up at his calculating eyes. “Yes.”
My stomach twists as his dimple appears. “Well then, I’ll see you here again tomorrow. Same time.”
Nodding, though I can’t fathom why I’m agreeing, I move toward the bathroom. “As long as I don’t have to walk in on any naked or half-naked women, you have a deal.”
Owen chuckles. “No naked women. I promise.”
I open the door to the bathroom, grabbing my bag on the way.
“Oh, and Miss Riley?”
I turn my head, gripping the handle of the door.
“I knew you thought I was beautiful.”