Chapter 8
The expression on Beast’s face is uncompromising. I don’t think I’d be able to budge the man with a bulldozer. His determination is etched in stone.
And I swear someone poured molasses on the clock. Freaking longest fifteen minutes of my life.
This sucks. I hate sitting still. Especially when there’s work to be done. People to find. Bad men to stop.
If he’s going to force me to wait, he’s going to pay.
I turn on the fan on the nightstand and lay down on his bed. I rest my head on his pillow.
Take that, sit in that small chair, and be uncomfortable.
I’m going to lie here and soak up the cool air.
It feels so good. A little moan slips out of me.
The chair he’s sitting in creaks dangerously.
I know he’s glaring. I can feel it.
“Camile…” The word is kind of a growl. Sort of a mutter.
“Hm. What?”
When I raise my head and look his way, he’s rubbing his eyes, shaking his head like he’s got a worm in his ear.
I close my eyes and sigh again. On purpose this time. “The fan feels good. This bed is pretty nice.”
A rumbly grunt follows. A creak of the chair too.
The clock ticks. Slowly. Not that there is a clock.
I find myself looking around. Since I’m not going anywhere, I take my time.
Tidy space. The bed has a nice native hand-woven bed cover. It’s a bold pattern in red, orange, and blue. Pretty, white lace curtains hang on both windows. Hand-thrown pottery bowls, plates, and cups in blue and orange are on a shelf in the small corner kitchen.
Someone put a lot of effort into making the little house feel nice. But the space feels small for a man like Beast. He takes up…everything. The whole dining area especially. Two very strong-looking, outstretched legs take up most of it.
I like tall men.
Given that I’m tall too, it’s nice to feel even the slightest bit small compared to someone.
He’s the perfect size.
I clench my eyes closed. This is bad.
Beast is not the perfect size. He’s perfectly annoying. Taking up all the air in the room.
I can feel his inhale.
His exhale makes my skin tingle.
Ignore!
I plump the pillow and crush any and all thoughts about his body.
Instead, I contemplate why his team is staying in these cute little cabinas.
Not that I’m judging. This cozy place sure is an upgrade from the tent where our team is going to be camping. Not only does FamFind skimp on security—skimp as in skip it altogether—they want the team to use the cheapest accommodations.
Hell, Beast will be sleeping in this nice bed, and I’ll probably be racked out in the cargo truck under a mosquito net. My lips pinch in a frown.
I lift my head and look in his direction. “Must be nice to be working in the private sector. Those companies make bank. Black ops contracts, rescues, personal security for the wealthy. All of that equals serious money.”
“How do you know about that?”
His question takes me off guard. I take a beat to think about my answer. “I’ve run into them before in my work.”
I leave some details out of that remark.
But I’ve met men like him. New boots, fresh new cargo pants, trim haircuts. Beast is pretty stereotypical and is representing the company he works for well. Except one could argue the man’s not doing his job. He’s here babysitting me because he’s worried about me having a heatstroke.
“Interesting,” he replies in a low tone.
My tummy flutters.
Hush.
No butterflies. The man doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want any troubles on his watch.
Yeah, that’s what it is.
“You’re just being nice because you want me out of your hair. Do you have some beef with FamFind?”
After taking a drink of water, his head swivels my way and his dark eyes skim down my body.
A shiver follows in the wake of his gaze.
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
He looks at me for a beat. Beast says a lot with his eyes and not so much with his infuriatingly sexy mouth.
He takes another drink of water and I’m not sure if he’s going to answer me. But after a long beat of me staring at him, he speaks.
“Never heard of FamFind.”
This could be true. But the company is sizable and has been in business for two decades. Most people recognize the name. Even if it’s a vague memory of hearing about it on the news.
My curiosity about Beast hasn’t been satisfied. I have about a million questions. But since he’s saying more than one-word answers, I figure I should stick to the topic.
“Do you know anything about organizations like ours?”
His focus sharpens and he searches my face. “I get the concept. Where do you get your money?”
Interesting that he’s asking about funding. It happens to be my specialty.
Propping myself up on my elbow, I shift and get comfier. “The money comes from a variety of sources. Some federal funds, grants, and then there are donations. Some of them are very large. But the company also has a great campaign for getting everyday-people to donate to a good cause.”
He rolls his water bottle between his hands. “Federal funds, American donations, but you work internationally?”
“We do. Central, North, and South America. It’s not that unusual. Lots of federal funds and private monies go to international causes.”
He nods. He’s quiet for a while.
So, the man isn’t all muscle. Beast is a thinker.
I can see that he’d be a dangerous operator. Smart. Observant. Clearly, physically capable.
His next question is probing. “Been to Vandemora before?”
Hm. I hesitate, but say, “Yes, I have.”
No need to mention that it was on spring break and involved lots of tequila and overheated nights in a dance club with a bunch of drunk fools.
Beast stays silent, and I wonder if I’ve said too much. My unease grows. It would be easy for a man like him to put pieces that I don’t want together. I’ll have to be careful.
Finally, his gaze goes to his tactical watch, and he stands up. “Time to move.”
Something about his expression makes me uneasy. Gone is the arctic, closed-down fa?ade. He looks pissed. The veins on his temples pop out.
“What’s wrong?”
He stares at me for a tense beat. “The reason Evan radioed was to let me know that one of your trucks was on fire.”
I’m off the bed an instant later.
His hand shoots out, lightning-fast, and he grabs my arm. “Slow down, speedy.”
“You can’t be serious!” My heart is roaring. I clutch my chest.
“I’m always serious.”
“Christ! What am I going to do now?”
“Leave.”
This man, I swear. I draw a breath. It doesn’t help. I feel my lips snarl. “Beast…”
“Please let this all be a bad dream.” I clench my eyes shut. “You could have softened the blow. That was a shock I didn’t need.”
He’s still scowling when I look up at him.
“Didn’t take you for the kind who needs sugar coating.”
“I didn’t ask for sugar, I asked for a reasonable delivery.”
He swings me around toward the door.
“Noted.”