Chapter 12 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
I’m silent in the passenger seat of Brady’s car wondering exactly how my life has gone off the rails so badly in the last forty-eight hours.
Thankfully, he grabbed my bag last night, and my computer appears to have survived the fall to the ground.
But after the uncomfortable visit to my office, I’m worn out.
Daria and my other employees watched me with wide-eyed looks. Apparently, the security guard had gossiped, and everyone understandably had questions. However, all I gave them were vague responses with keywords like, “isolated incident,” and “The police are handling it.”
Having Brady constantly at my elbow is irritating, but I can’t lie, his intimidating frame is helpful for discouraging uncomfortable questions.
I have no interest in telling my colleagues about the nightmare my life has recently become.
After reassigning the most pressing things on my calendar, we are on our way to Elite’s headquarters.
I have serious reservations about going to a safe house.
Already, I’m imagining cracked, brown sofas and boxes of old pizza.
So, when Brady pulls up to a solid steel gate close to Midtown and presses his thumbprint into a scanner, I’m flabbergasted.
The gate rolls back, allowing our car to drive through before immediately closing again.
Brady pulls through an almost empty parking garage, and around the side of the three-story, nondescript brick building, to a lower-level, industrial loading dock.
Instead of a standard roll-up door, we are met by another solid steel door and thumbprint scanner.
Fluorescent lights in the ceiling flicker on, illuminating a fleet of matching black SUVs, as he steers us into an underground parking garage.
I turn to stare at him. “You always wanted to be Batman, didn’t you?”
He chuckles. Pulling into a spot, he cuts the engine and pins me with a stare.
I raise my hands. “Wait until you come to my door. Got it.”
The muscle at the corner of his jaw works, but he takes a deep breath before answering me. “The rules and protocols aren’t for shits and giggles, Elizabeth. They’re to keep you safe. I’m not trying to control you.”
I instantly feel guilty.
“I know,” I admit. “And trust me, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll do whatever you say. Protection-wise,” I amend, when heat flares in his eyes, setting off a storm of tingles in my stomach.
I wince when I bend to pick up my purse from the floorboard. Even with pain meds humming in my system, it still stings if I move too quickly, not to mention the bruises from wrestling with the man last night.
Brady rounds the hood and opens my door. Taking my heavy purse, he hangs it over his shoulder before helping me climb down, his hand on my elbow.
I let out a loud exhale when both feet are on the ground again. I know I’ll be fine with some rest, but I’m a little woozy from exhaustion and the pain meds.
“You okay?” His face creases with concern.
“Fine.”
Brady makes a quiet, growly sound but doesn’t ask again. With his hand outstretched near my waist, as if I’m going to suddenly tip over, we climb four steps to get to—of course—another metal door.
Brady’s thumbprint makes the door beep, and he pulls it open.
“You really like the toys, huh?”
He grins, green eyes lighting up. “I really do.”
I find myself smiling widely back at him, but when I register the room in front of me, I stop dead, eyes widening.
In front of me is a huge open space, decorated in matte black, stainless steel and rough brick.
Brady glances at me, catching my hesitation. “Converted warehouse,” he explains. “We’ve only been in about a year.”
“It looks like Restoration Hardware and the CIA had a collab.”
“Is that a compliment?” he asks, while ushering me inside with his large hand on my lower back.
I need to not think about how much I like his touch.
“I think so?” My dry comment makes him chuckle again.
He guides me past a scattering of desks, each equipped with dual monitors and sleek-looking keyboards. In the center of the room is a grouping of several low, comfortable-looking sofas and a couple of deep recliners arranged on a muted gray rug.
A row of digital clocks showing the current local times of various cities around the world hangs high on the far wall.
Heavy wood doors break up the rest of the wall space.
All are closed but one, through which I glimpse a kitchen.
An open staircase climbs one wall with switchbacks, stopping on two landings above us.
Brady gestures toward it as he keeps pace with my slower steps. “First landing leads to offices—mine and Vincent’s. There’s also a conference room. Top level has four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, plus a shared kitchenette and sitting area.”
“That’s where you want me to stay?”
He nods. “Until we establish a risk mitigation plan.”
“Risk mitigation plan,” I echo quietly. “How is that possible if we don’t even know what the risk is?”
His jaw hardens, and the hand on my back firms. “I’m going to find out who is behind this.”
I hear the promise in his voice and desperately want to believe him, but right now it seems impossible.
How do I fight an enemy if I don’t know who they are or what they want?
“Who else stays here?” I ask, lifting my eyes to the door high above.
“No one at the moment,” Brady responds, allowing me to steer the conversation onto more neutral ground. “It’s available to whoever needs it.”
My eyes scan the room again, taking in the details before returning to him. “You aren’t a run-of-the-mill security firm, are you?”
He grins and winks, and I swear he knows what it does to my knees. “Nope. We’re a little more specialized these days.”
“That’s it? You aren’t going to tell me anything else?” My lips curve in response to his devilish smile.
“Nope.”
“You are an infuriating man. You know that, right, Brady Worthington?”
“Back atcha, Firefly.”
My mood instantly sours. “Stop calling me that.”
“But I have such fond memories of that little bug.” He leans close to my ear, his breath fanning the delicate shell and sending goosebumps over my body. “And how hot, she burned beneath my tongue.”
My mouth falls open. I want to be angry, but the feelings flooding my body make it clear I’m anything but offended.
It’s interested. Way, way too interested.
I quickly step away from him to create some distance and instantly regret the move when a sharp sting stabs at my side.
Brady’s smirk falls from his face, his brows knitting together. His eyes search mine, as if he’s trying to gauge just how much pain I’m in.
“Hey,” he coaxes. One palm lifts in apology, but he doesn’t touch me. His hand hovers in the air between us. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, and his lips pinch, but after a beat he simply says, “Let me know if we need to take you back to the hospital.”
His voice is detached and professional. I should be grateful he’s not being flirtatious anymore, making me want things I shouldn’t. But I’m not.
Make up your mind, Elizabeth.
We move past a short hallway on the main level, lined with unmarked doors. Brady gestures at them, labelling them, “storage” and “bathroom,” but when he says “armory,” my steps falter.
Armory? What exactly do he and his team do?
I search my brain for every tidbit I’ve ever heard from Luke about Brady. All Dahlia’s husband has ever said is that his old friend used to be a police officer and now runs a private investigative and security firm.
This looks like… more.
Brady’s hand finds my arm instantly, misinterpreting my misstep. “You should sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
The muscle in his jaw is fluttering wildly now. “Just a suggestion.”
“If it gets worse, I’ll take the meds the doctor gave me.” I give him a half-smile, hoping it will ease the weird tension that has popped up between us.
It doesn’t work. Brady frowns, and I swear I see the skin near his eye twitching. He closes his eyes briefly, almost as though he is in pain himself, and then shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Across the room, a figure appears from one of the doorways, a young woman with a sleek, chestnut ponytail and an absolutely killer body. There’s a pulling sensation in my stomach that has nothing to do with my stitches as I watch her stare at Brady.
I’m not normally an insecure person, and in this scenario it’s even more ridiculous to feel that way.
But I’m overly conscious of the fact I smell like a hospital and am dressed in someone else’s slightly-too-small clothes.
While she, on the other hand, is stunning, even dressed in a high-necked, black T-shirt and fitted cargo pants.
The militaristic gear is striking on her hourglass frame.
Even the spiderweb of pink scars winding along her jaw and disappearing into the collar of her shirt doesn’t take away from her beauty.
In a way, it enhances it, making her look like a badass.
“Sera,” Brady says warmly, and my smile slips. There is a depth of caring in that one word that makes me so jealous I want to scream.
Jealous? What are you talking about? That’s the pain meds talking.
Crossing the room, she throws her arms around Brady, hugging him with a ferocity that makes something pinch in my chest.
Crap, I’m definitely jealous.
When Sera pulls back, her gaze flicks to me, and her expression cools.
“Sera, this is Elizabeth,” Brady smiles. “Elizabeth, my sister.”
Sister.
I know my smile is a little too wide, but I can’t help it. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Sera gives me a curt nod, but her focus is on her brother. “Vincent said he’s still waiting for the debrief. He wants the details of the ambush.” Her eyes flash to me, and her lip curls so slightly I would have missed it if I hadn’t been staring at her.
She knows the ambush was my fault.
Brady clears his throat, picking up on his sister’s animosity. “Once I get Elizabeth settled, I’ll get him up to speed.” Turning his attention back to me, he says, “Come on, I want to show you something.”
“This is our cyber room.” He gestures into the room after opening one of the wood doors.
The explanation is unnecessary. An array of monitors lines the wall, with more sitting on top of two different workstations. A man is sitting in a red and black gaming chair in front of the center console.
He glances briefly at us before returning to his screens, but it’s enough that I see he’s younger than me—twenties maybe, with dark hair and eyes.
Black square-framed glasses reflect the blue and green lights, and his muscular shoulders are encased in the same style black T-shirt and tactical pants that Sera wears. Is it a uniform?
I watch as his tattooed hands race across the keyboard.
“This is Finn,” Brady says. “This room is his domain.”
Finn doesn’t turn around. “No update yet.”
Brady leans a shoulder against the doorframe. “Didn’t ask.”
“You were going to. Sera put the report on your desk.” His gaze goes briefly to me, before looking away.
I raise my brows at Brady, and he chuckles. “He’s better with computers than with people.”
I decide the politic thing to do is stay silent.
Brady leads me over to the sitting area and gestures to one of the recliners before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with two bottles of water and hands me one, before pulling my pill bottle from his pocket.
“It’s almost time for your next dose.”
“I don’t need them yet,” I protest.
It’s true all the walking has taken more out of me than I would have expected, but the pain is manageable.
“You don’t want to get behind the curve with it. Suffering isn’t a virtue,” He says flatly before shaking out two pills and handing them to me. “Sit.”
I lower myself gingerly onto the recliner, trying not to wince as the stitches pull.
“You good?”
“Brady.”
His brows lift.
“I’m fine.”
His body goes rigid, and he turns slightly away from me, muttering something that sounds like, “favorite fucking word.”
“What?”
He doesn’t answer, setting my bag in the chair next to me.
“Need you to hang here for a bit.” He pulls an L-shaped side table closer and pivots it so it is positioned over my lap. “You can work here. I’ll be back in an hour, and then I’ll take you up to your room.”
“I can go up now,” I protest.
Brady stares hard at me for a second. “We don’t have an elevator. Are you up to climbing two flights of stairs right now?”
“Oh.” I feel my cheeks heat. “Thank you.”
“It’s what we’re paid to do.” Sera’s voice rings out, and my head snaps around to see her standing nearby. “We look out for people who can’t look after themselves.”
Her words hit me like a slap in the face. I was so wrapped up with Brady I hadn’t even realized she was there. The way he stiffens, I think he is equally surprised.
“Sera,” he warns, turning to face his sister.
She widens her eyes in fake innocence and smiles. “What? I’m just saying that’s who our clients are. Making sure they don’t get hurt is what we do. What people pay us for.”
For whatever reason, Brady’s sister has taken an instant dislike to me. I plaster an equally fake smile on my face. “It’s an invaluable service you offer.”
Her eyes narrow at not getting the reaction she was obviously hoping for.
Deciding to leave the two of them to their bad moods, I twist to pull my computer from my bag, gritting my teeth against the discomfort. I flip open my laptop and look up, raising my eyebrows as if I’m surprised they are both still there.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” I say coolly, before turning my attention back to the computer, not really seeing what is in front of me.