Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Elizabeth
M y eyes popped open when I felt someone grabbing my wrist.
“Hey, sorry. We’re here.”
Kenny’s voice situated me to the moment—in the car, on a mission with Saint Security, and with Kenny Carmichael. “Here” had to be LA, which meant I’d slept for a solid hour. I hadn’t meant to conk out entirely, but the jet lag was still hammering me.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sleep on you,” I said, unbuckling and gathering my things.
“That was always the plan. No apology needed.”
He slipped out of the vehicle, and I followed. In a matter of minutes, we were checked in and riding the elevator up. If we’d been in one of Jojo’s books, we’d end up in the same room and the hotel would be sold out. There’d only be one bed .
And I would… not be mad about that.
My eyes widened at the thought, and I dropped my gaze to my feet in hopes he hadn’t seen the thought broadcast across my face.
Yes, Kenny was attractive. He was warm and fun and positive, but he’d also given me a hint of something more. A depth to him I wouldn’t have guessed at thanks to his Barbie persona and the cheery demeanor.
He was also not someone I was about to get involved with. My life was falling apart rapidly enough as it was—I didn’t need this Golden Retriever puppy stumbling around in it and letting me break his heart. Pile on top of that the fact that I didn’t actually know how long I’d be here and it simply didn’t make sense.
We arrived at doors side by side in a hallway on the eighth floor.
“Night. See you at zero-six?” he asked, his face looking tired and still yet tinged with that baseline kindness and positivity.
It honestly baffled me. His neutral face was basically a smile.
“See you then.”
We moved inside each of our rooms as though choreographed to do it in sync, and I made for the bed with a focus I hadn’t had for anything in… a long time. Maybe too long, considering I’d always been someone who liked to and could effectively zero my interest and productivity on work and stay there until I was forced to come up for air.
An hour after readying for bed and subsequently staring at the ceiling, I surrendered to my fate. I couldn’t sleep, and after sitting all day, despite feeling tired and desperate for the bliss of unconsciousness, I needed to move .
I’d noticed the signs in the elevator for the gym on the top floor of the hotel, so I took the stairs until I couldn’t anymore, and after swiping into a calming reception area void of any personnel, I entered the gym itself.
And promptly froze.
There was one other person in there, and I could sense him before I even saw him. He wore bright blue running shorts, bright blue sneakers, and a determined look reflecting in the window the likes of which I’d yet to witness on the man. The white T-shirt clinging to his back disappeared when he reached behind and stripped it off in one swift movement revealing…
Kenny.
But not the one I was familiar with.
Maybe this was why he’d been nicknamed Barbie—his abs looked sculpted by a mold. All of him did, really. He was slick with sweat and running at a clip I doubted I could maintain on my best day, and I was a practiced runner myself.
He was Workout Barbie. Runner Barbie.
Hot as all get out Barbie.
Also… Gorgeous tattoos I did not anticipate Barbie. Like… the man had tattoos streaking from his shoulders and down his back. In the reflection showcasing his Lego-brick abs, I also saw hints of a design slipping down over his pecs.
This reality was far more than I could process right now.
I hesitated just inside the door, wondering if maybe I should just go walk the stairs a few times and call it good. There was a raw energy about him that tugged at me while also pushing me away. We’d spent the entire day together and he no doubt wanted space. I needed it.
I should’ve left .
But I stepped farther inside, choosing a treadmill spaced two away from the one he used. Everything about my time since landing at Salt Lake City airport had felt otherworldly, and this gorgeous human being only heightened the sensation.
So me walking in and joining in for a jog? It wasn’t something Elizabeth Malcom would typically do, but neither was taking weeks or months off work. Neither was being investigated for potential corruption thanks to my trainee, despite a thorough report accounting for my integrity, and yet…
Pain lashed through me at that one, but I sniffed and started the machine at a walking pace.
Kenny punched a button and began to slow, his pounding footsteps spacing out.
“Liz, hey. I’m sorry I didn’t see you,” he said, pulling headphones from his ears.
Good grief, he wore a smile so casually. They just jumped right to his handsome face and made him look friendly and deadly at the same time.
I focused on the speed controls in front of me, nudging the incline higher and glueing my eyes there so I wouldn’t cave to the temptation of counting his abs or gobbling up the dark lines of his tattoos.
“No worries. You were in the zone.” I gave him a thumbs up.
Why? When was the last time I’d given anyone a thumbs up, and yet I’d done it now, with this man, in this state? There were some mysteries that would never be solved and this was one.
He chuckled and wiped the sweat from his brow, face, and neck. I did not watch because that would be weird. I ticked up the pace and began to jog .
“How far will you go?” he asked, taking a big breath right as I looked over at him.
A cough tripped out because how ? Why? Who, even?
At least I hadn’t said something like, What do you even do with all those abs?
“Just two or three. Something to wear out my legs a bit, but I want to get to sleep soon. What’d you do?”
He slung the towel over his shoulder and stretched his arms overhead. I begged my eyes to stay glued to the window in front of me and not drift to the right.
No, eyes. Bad eyes! The Barbie man is not for you!
“I just ran for an hour. Couldn’t sleep and figured a good run would help, plus it’s always nice to run at sea level.”
“The altitude is definitely kicking my butt in my workouts. Hoping I get over that soon,” I said, sliding up into a faster jog.
“Takes a bit, but you’ll get there.”
I had to ask, even though it would probably make me feel like crap. “How far do you run in an hour?”
He sprayed the machine and wiped it down as he spoke. “About eight.”
“Eight.” So he was running a seven-and-a-half-minute mile.
“Yeah. We trained for times and distances in EMU. You know our assessment includes a forty-mile ruck march which isn’t running but it’s a ways. So anything under ten can be fast for me. Over ten I start to slow down. Some of the guys are just machines but I was never a natural runner.”
I laughed, breathless with the reality of what he and his peers could do and yes, a bit with the increasing pace. “Yeah, seems like you really struggle. ”
He tsked. “I’m not trying to brag. I work hard but it’s also literally part of my job to be able to run fast and for long distances. I need to be strong to carry people, I need hand to hand combat skills to fight, I need to shoot well—just like you, mind you—and all the other stuff. If it wasn’t my job, I doubt I’d be able to do any of it.”
“ Used to be your job. They don’t keep you to that same standard at Saint, do they?” I asked, finally pushing into a full run.
“Nah. But I am a bit of an energizer bunny and do best when I’m physically exhausted.”
That fit. It also made me feel some kind of way I couldn’t describe and therefore, I kept running. In the reflection of the window, I could see him moving around on a mat behind me—stretching or abs or something. He was probably about to rip out a thousand sit-ups while I plodded along over here, but I wouldn’t feel bad.
I also kind of loved that he caveated his fitness level as being part of his job. He was right. And while I preferred to stay physically fit for my own health and, frankly, mental health, it wasn’t a job requirement in the same way. That was one of many differences between working for an agency and working special operations in the military. The expectations and missions were different, but they could coalesce and work effectively together using the strengths each entity offered.
Kenny offered brute strength, stamina, and physical capability. And I?
I offered…
Failure to properly oversee a fellow agent. Failure to complete a mission. Loss of a developed asset…
The words from the report I’d filed hammered me, and I increased my speed. I was close to an all-out sprint now, but I needed the punishing pace—the challenge and the resistance, the burn in my muscles to shred through the self-pity and regret.
I couldn’t take all the blame for my subordinate’s failures, but I felt them as though they were my own. It had been my job to make sure he was doing what he should, and when he didn’t, I’d missed it.
With one final increase, I drove my body into an all-out sprint for the last minute. My lungs ached for more air, and exhaustion waited to pounce. I pulled off all the speed and let the elevation drop, the treadmill’s motor running loudly as it lowered. After a moment, I leaned over and rested my head on the backs of my hands where they hung on to the stability bar at the front of the machine.
The ache in my chest persisted, but it wasn’t my lungs. It was my bruised heart—the one that’d loved my job for so long but felt scorched by my recent failings, my boss’s response, and my inability to summon a desire to change what I’d done even though I knew the results because I’d done what I’d believed was right.
Where did that leave me?
Well, here. It left me on involuntary leave wandering around the western United States like I was on vacation, apparently.
“Okay there?”
Kenny’s voice pierced through the fog of grief and frustration I’d let myself drown in for a few seconds. I lifted my head, knowing I had to look as wrecked as I felt.
“Just dandy.”
His smile-prone lips did their thing, sliding up while his eyes practically sparkled. “Dandy, huh?”
I nodded, still breathing heavily.
He studied me, eyes only on my face and not falling to the now sweaty T-shirt or running shorts I wore. After a moment, he dipped his chin.
“Okay then. Let’s get to bed.”
He held out his hand and gestured for me to lead the way and I went, no argument. Bed was what I needed. A reset with some sleep, and then we’d meet the people for the mission and we’d do what we were here to do. Another few days and I’d feel better—I’d have clarity, and I’d know what I needed to do.
And in a few weeks, I’d be ready to get back to it.