Chapter 39
CHARLIE
I pull on a new set of spare clothes that fit me much better.
This outfit is all black. The sweatpants are from some sports drink company with their logo running up the leg and the shirt is from one of our shorter-distance females-only run series. They are both slightly bigger than what I would usually wear, but they’ll do just fine for today.
Was Declan nervous last night and picked the first thing he could find, or did he want to give me extra-baggy clothes for modesty? Or ease of access, I think.
I didn’t expect this rush of feelings. Not just for Declan and how my heart is wanting him, but the joy at the muscle ache.
The wonderous happiness that I have missed.
My body worked for me, and each ache is a blissful reminder – not only of a long night in bed with Declan but of what my body can do.
I want all the muscle aches. From running. From working. From loving.
Declan is in the safehouse garage getting his bike gear set for a morning ride. He offered to leave me with his handgun, but I told him I’d be more afraid of accidentally shooting myself if I needed to use it. “Shooting range. Tomorrow,” he’d said with finality before walking through the door.
After a few minutes, Declan comes back in wearing his cycling kit. The one he planned to wear on a training ride yesterday evening. Dark blue with white stripes looks good on him. He’s striking with the front unzipped and his lean muscles and dark chest hair showing.
“Are you sure you want to get a training ride in now?” I ask.
“Athens is only a month away and I do my best thinking on the bike,” he explains.
I get it. I’m proud of him for sticking to his plan.
“I guess there is a lot to riddle out right now,” I say. He looks over at me with a curious expression. “About Blaed, and the Order, and the World Games,” I remind him, shocked that I need to.
“Yes,” he agrees. Then I realize that he may want to think about me, about us. If there is an us. My shoulders slump involuntarily. I didn’t have to think about it. I’m all his if he wants me.
Declan walks over and grabs my hands in his, interlocking our fingers.
When I meet his eyes, he tells me, “I can’t think clearly when I’m around you, Ross.
And after last night –” he pauses and smiles – “and this morning –” he kisses my cheek – “I’m especially distracted. I need to think about this case.”
I beam up at him. How is he able to read my mind and ease my fears?
“The one thing I don’t have to think about, the one thing that makes sense right now,” he continues, “is this.” He gives me a long slow kiss and my body reacts the way it did last night. Curling into him. Wanting more. But also desperately needing rest.
He pulls away and walks back to the door leading to the garage. “We’ll leave for headquarters as soon as I get back,” he reassures me.
“OK, will you be safe?”
“Of course. And remember, you’re locking yourself in. Don’t let anyone else in but me.”
We agreed to turn on the video-monitoring system since I would be alone, and then I could see him come and go. I nod and show him I’m ready to press the button the second the door closes.
“Just ten miles, OK?” he assures me.
I know it will take him around thirty-five minutes, so I let him get going.
I watch him walk out and then, on the screen from the closed-circuit security feed, I see the garage door open. Declan strolls out with his bike and clasps his helmet on before he mounts the bike and speeds away. I push the button to close the garage and set the security system.
I know the time will fly by, so I do my best to tidy.
I pull the sheets from the bed and drop them in a hamper along with the clothes from last night.
I’m not sure who does the cleaning here, but I want to make it easy for them.
As I put things back the way I found them, I wonder what I’ll say the next time I talk to my parents and they ask me about work.
Or what I will say to Ana when she gets back to the office on Monday.
She’s certainly picked up on the vibes between me and Declan and now I have updates!
Or do I? I so want to chat with her about this.
How can I disclose this development without spilling the beans on the secret operations?
I move to the living-room area and gather some of Declan’s things. I grab my cavernous purse, the traitor that it is for hiding that tiny tracking device, and pack away my work clothes and Declan’s as well. I’m guessing he’ll go to the office in his cycling kit.
About twenty minutes after Declan leaves, the front door buzzes. I know Declan is an excellent athlete, but there is no way he finished that quickly, even if he sprinted the whole time.
I see Ian through the security feed. “Charlie, I’ve got breakfast and updates,” he announces through the intercom. He has a pink box in his arm that is likely filled with glutenous pastries I shouldn’t have.
“Is this man trying to kill me?” I mutter to myself and press the buzzer to let him in.
I pad barefoot over to the front door and wait for him to enter.
“Hi, Ian,” I say brightly as he enters. “There’s coffee in the pot if you want some.” Then I continue to gather up my items.
“Thank you, Charlie,” Ian replies and he heads to the kitchen in my peripheral view. He sets the pink box on the counter and opens it.
“Sure thing,” I respond. “What’s the update?” I ask, half listening, half tidying. I relock the safehouse just as Declan showed me.
“There’s been a security breach,” Ian tells me as he stands across the counter from me. No shit, I think, given the tracking device we discovered last night. But maybe Ian is referring to a new one. The smell of fresh pastries wafts over to me.
The kitchen is the last room for me to clean up. I need to wash the dishes we used and sweep away some crumbs. I reach for my cell phone in the pockets of the borrowed pants. “Let me tell Declan so we can get on this right away,” I say.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ian says.
His words catch me by surprise. I stop what I am doing and look up at him. That’s when Ian pulls a gun out of the pink box and a silencer as well. He methodically twists the silencer onto the front of the gun as he walks toward me.
“Declan won’t be back in time to help,” Ian adds matter-of-factly before he takes aim at me.