20. Nate
20
Nate
H er finger pressed into my shoulder, and I forced a startled jump.
Tearing my eyes from the cloning software, I turned, one brow lifting with amusement. "So you are stalking me."
Ava stared at me with a glint in her eyes. "I just finished my interview." She looked me up and down. "How did you change and get here so fast? What are you doing here?"
Watching you.
Following.
Keeping tabs.
"I got a call from a friend for a quick repair around the corner. I needed to take a breather..." my smile broadened. "If you know what I mean."
She grimaced. "You got that all done in an hour?"
"Less than." I pocketed my phone. "Want me to walk you to your car?"
She looked around me as if checking out my ass, our gazes clashing, making my heart stumble. "Where are your tools?"
"I didn't need any. He had them. He couldn't quite get the seal right on the toilet." I moved and slid my arm over her shoulder, and she jerked out of my arms with a look of disgust. "Don't worry." I held out my hands for her to see. "I wore gloves, and I washed them before coming out here."
Ava raised both brows and laughed. "Sorry."
I wrapped my arm around her for a second time, and she sank into me. My body absorbed her warmth as I kissed her forehead. "I get it."
We walked down the sidewalk, and she steered me towards her car, where I'd been before changing the battery on her useless tracker.
The agency really needed to up their budget for new ones.
Her hand slipped my arm off of her shoulder with a gentle smile.
I sighed, stopping her in the parking lot. "Okay, what gives?"
"What do you mean?"
"First, on Sunday night at the festival, you grew cold and took off, and then now. Do you have a dislike for affection?"
She drew in a deep breath, her arms crossed over her chest, her bag hanging from her hand. Her breasts plumped up, drawing my attention, my mind reliving the night with my face between them. "It's not that, but in a way, yes." She gave me a disarming smile. "I have a way of keeping people at arm's length."
"You don't say..." I laughed and nudged her.
She smiled, and heat fired her cheeks into a cherry-red. "Hey, it's a serious condition."
"I believe you."
"Seriously." She kicked at the ground, her arms tightening around her. "I should get therapy, but it's been with me for so long it's practically a part of me now." She let out a hollow laugh and looked away, the unease bleeding off her as though she'd torn out her own heart and stomped on it for me.
A pang hit my chest, and the laughter died away as I tipped her chin up with my knuckle. "Hey. It's fine. We all have our quirks."
The hum of passing cars filled the pause between us, and I let the silence settle.
Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “Quirks.” She looked up, a hint of a wry grin tugging at her lips. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”
I lowered my hands and tucked them into my pockets. “I mean… I’m not going anywhere.”
Unless my orders change...
She shifted her weight, her guard wavering, and the bag at her side swung, making a soft, hollow sound. “You should know my walls don’t crumble easily.”
I nodded. “Then I’ll just… wait at the gate.” Our eyes clashed with a steadiness that had my feet cemented to the ground.
Where the hell did that come from?
Ava and I both came from damaged backgrounds, neither one comparable to the other, but damaged all the same.
Her gaze softened. A small smile flickered across her face, shattering the quiet moment that hung between us. “You’re too patient for your own good.” Another shaky laugh escaped her.
“I have a feeling it’s worth the wait.” I shrugged, giving her a faint grin, my phone buzzing in my pocket, the cloning process completing.
A breeze whispered past us, rustling the leaves falling across the cement, the sound cutting through the tension brewing. “So,” I said, clearing my throat, “how did your interview go?”
She shifted her weight, her grin turning into a frown. "He was less than helpful."
I blinked in genuine surprise. "The Mayor was dismissive of you?"
"It wasn't only dismissive, though. I swear he… threatened me."
My jaw tensed, my teeth grinding against one another as I squared my shoulders.
"I think he's hiding something."
If the Mayor ever did anything right, it was steering her off course and helping me out, but threatening her... Why?
Why bring so much attention to himself?
"How did he threaten you?"
Her lashes fluttered as she rolled her lips, wetting them with the tip of her pink tongue. "Basically warned me to stay away and to not cause panic to a situation that was already under control."
Well done, Mayor.
"Does that sound like him? Is he typically a threatening character?"
Ava shrugged, pursing her lips. "Not really. He's always joyful, especially with those ridiculous colorful sweaters he wears." She sighed and shuffled closer to her car. "Maybe I'm overthinking it."
I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Do you think maybe he might be right?"
Shaking her head, she opened her car door and tossed her bag inside. "No. Why would I?"
I shrugged. "What if what he said is correct, and there's no sense in pursuing the story? If he said it's being handled, then what is the story?"
"What is this?" Her brows furrowed, her head shaking.
I raised my arms in defense. "I'm playing devil's advocate here. A thought exercise."
"Well, don't. I already have my doubts, and my boss is breathing down my neck like a killer dragon."
"I was trying to help." I brushed my thumb along her warm cheek, heat flooding through me at the thought of how hot and soft her skin felt against mine. She was so damn persistent that she even haunted my mind on a constant basis, breaking through my thoughts with far less innocent ones.
Ava leaned into my touch, her temper fizzling out. "I need to get to work."
Giving her a curt nod, I stepped back, my hand resting on the top of her opened door. "I'll see you later?"
Her shoulders dropped, and she swallowed. "Okay."
"See you soon, then." I shut the door with a genuine smile and turned on my heel, wiping the evidence from my face as she drove away.
Shit.
I drew in a deep breath, my shoulders relaxing as I walked toward the location of my motorcycle and dialed the 'center'.
The phone rang in my ear as I paused at my bike, my butt resting on the seat. The phone stopped ringing, and silence stung on the other end. "Striker."
"Stand by," said the operator.
I glanced around, my arm crossed over my chest, my other elbow resting on my crossed forearm.
Three well-dressed men walked down the sidewalk together, their haircuts primed for an office job, separating them from the hard working class.
"Go ahead." The director's voice came over the speaker, causing my brows to furrow.
He never takes briefings...
"Target had a closed-door meeting with the Mayor. He shut her down, but she won't stop. She's persistent."
He huffed in my ear. "Any idea about her objective?"
"I'm working on it, but she's a closed book."
Do I mention swapping the drug she had?
"How the hell is she still digging? You were supposed to divert her attention." His voice grew gruff.
"She's giving me breadcrumbs, but she's not trusting." Silence sliced between us. "What are your orders, sir?"
"Escalate."
"I’ve already triggered an IRS audit and fired off a harassment campaign.” The word hit me like a cold wind, sucking the life from my lungs. My grip tightened on the phone. "Define, escalate , sir."
"Apply pressure. If she starts pulling on the wrong strings, cut the thread. Understood?"
"Understood. What are my parameters?"
Every operation had ‘rules of engagement’, but they'd left these terms vague on read in, leaving my hands on operations sparse.
"We aren't here to turn heads. Keep it quiet." He paused, the speaker picking up his fingers drumming on his desk. "Remember, this is your redemption theater. Don't mess this up."
"Roger."
"Time's ticking."
The call ended, and I tucked my phone into my pocket before I snapped it in two.
Shit.