NINE
Rome had spent the better part of the day discovering that avoiding Stina required more effort than finding her.
Which was a problem because he’d spent the better part of the day trying to do both.
Every time a door opened, his head shot toward the sound. Every time he heard footsteps in the tunnel, he pictured the way her hips swayed when she walked, or the hard little stomp of her feet when she was irritated.
Then common sense kicked in and reminded him that seeing her at all was a terrible idea.
It didn’t help that he could so easily picture her tangled in his sheets.
Tangled up with him.
He pushed down a grin and shoved away from the computer. He stretched his arms but his shoulders and neck protested the movement. Hours hunched over reports, camera footage and lists of arms dealers had left him stiff.
And one spunky little vixen had him rock hard.
The war room had finally emptied. Cannon had disappeared into his office hours ago, and the rest of the team scattered.
Rome should have done the same. Instead, he stayed in front of the computer chasing threads that led nowhere.
One connected to another. Then another.
Courier services.
Burner accounts.
Vehicle registrations owned by shell companies.
Addresses that turned out to be abandoned storefronts or empty lots.
The people behind this operation were careful. Very careful.
That bothered him most, because in his experience, criminals got lazy eventually. They cut corners, trusted the wrong person and got greedy.
The person after Stina and Jolie seemed disciplined, and every step he took was controlled.
Whoever was pulling strings had built layers between themselves and the people carrying out their dirty work.
Rome enlarged the photo of the man that Stina and Jolie couldn’t identify.
The shot was blurry, the man’s face turned aside. If they couldn’t manage to clean up the photo, they’d struggle to identify him through facial recognition software too.
He leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face, attention drifting to the hallway, distracted by curly hair, a sharp tone and green-gold eyes.
Rome swore under his breath and snapped the laptop shut.
Enough.
He wasn’t getting another useful thought out of himself tonight.
When he stepped into the hallway, he stopped dead.
Something smelled incredible.
That alone was suspicious—he was sure he remembered Rorke should be cooking tonight, but the scent drifting through the tunnels—fresh bread, garlic and herbs and roasting meat—was distinctly not protein powder.
Unable to stop himself, he followed the smell. The closer he got to the kitchen, the stronger it became. Voices and laughter carried to him.
He slowed his pace, expecting to glance in and find Stina sitting with Jolie. But when he walked in, he found her standing at the long counter, ingredients spread around her. Open containers and mixing bowls occupied every available surface.
And she stood in the middle of it all looking happier than he’d seen her since arriving at Sierra.
That should have pleased him.
Instead, his attention shifted to the man standing beside her.
Rivers.
Both of them were smiling.
Rivers looked relaxed, which wasn’t so unusual with his easygoing shit-happens manner.
But Stina’s demeanor bothered Rome more. She looked relaxed in a way that instantly prickled his ego.
He folded his arms and watched.
She said something. Rivers laughed. She laughed too.
The sound carried across the room and hit Rome with a hefty dash of annoyance. He started toward them but only took two steps into the room when things got worse.
Stina held out a spoon and River leaned in, mouth open for her to feed him a taste.
He didn’t realize he made a noise until the growl burned in his throat. They both stopped and jerked toward Rome.
He narrowed his eyes. “The medic is going to need a dentist if he doesn’t shut his mouth and get out of the kitchen.”
Silence followed—shockingly, Stina seemed too stunned to speak.
Rivers started laughing so hard the bastard actually bent forward.
Stina shot Rome a glare. “What is your problem?”
He didn’t spare her a glance but stared down his teammate. “Don’t you have leads to follow?”
“I’m waiting for news from my contact.”
“Well, I outrank you and I’m telling you to get out.”
Stina’s jaw dropped. “You’re the rudest, most irritating human being I’ve ever met!”
He continued to stare at Rivers. “Not as rude as walking in and seeing Rivers’s tonsils.”
That had his teammate’s shoulders shaking with laughter again, but he reached around Stina and plucked an apple out of a bowl.
“See you later, Stina.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, he does,” Rome cut over her.
Rivers’s laughter trailed down the hall, but in the kitchen, he could feel Stina’s anger simmering.
She let out a low hum as if she could barely contain her ire. “When it comes to me, you don’t get to boss people around. You don’t have any claim on me.”
That irritated him more because he knew she was right. It came down to one thing—he didn’t like seeing Rivers standing there smiling at her.
Stina swung back to her ingredients. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. “And another thing. I need to go home soon. My parents are coming for a visit. They haven’t heard from me, and they’re going to be worried.”
“I’ll see what I can do about getting word to them.”
She sent him a glare. “And the part about going home?”
“When you’re safe.”
She focused on the food in front of her. “I’m going to lose my job.”
“Better than losing your life.”
She bowed her head. “Can you at least see about getting my things moved out of my apartment into storage? I don’t want to lose everything.”
Her request hurt him. He hated that she was going through this. “I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
She whirled. “Yes. I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want. Rivers included.”
In one stride, he closed the distance between them, trapping her against the counter, hemming her in with his body. If she stepped backward, she’d only find him blocking her way.
The intoxicating scent of her shampoo lured him closer until his nose practically brushed her curls. “You’re free. But only I get to taste your sweetness, Stina.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, a satisfying shiver rippling through her entire body. She still held a knife, but he wasn’t worried about anything except someone walking in on him while he fucked her on the counter.
Her chest heaved as she fought for air, and he leaned closer until his lips met the silky shell of her ear.
Her spine snapped stiff. “This is a bad idea, Rome.”
“What is?”
“You standing this close.”
Drawn closer, his lips almost grazed her ear. “You’re the one who came looking for me yesterday.”
“I came to clear the air.”
“You still ended up in my bed.”
She jerked her head, piercing him with those eyes that sparked with more than anger.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to forget we’re standing in a kitchen.”
The breath left her in a rush.
For one long second, neither of them moved.
Then Rome pushed away from the counter before common sense abandoned him completely.
* * * * *
Stina drove the twenty-pound slam ball into the rubber gym floor. She bent to heft it into her arms and slammed it down again.
By the fifth rep she was breathing harder, and by the tenth, her arms were jelly. “I thought those trays at work were heavy,” she gasped out.
A few feet away, Jolie was sprinting at an incline on the treadmill. “No kidding. You should see the guys in here. They throw the sixty-pound ball around like it’s a frisbee.”
Stina’s brain filled with a fantasy of watching Rome working out and almost dropped the ball.
She shook herself. Her entire reason for coming to the gym was to stop thinking about Rome. But every time she heard footsteps in the hall, her gaze shot to the entrance, hoping to see the man walk in.
She placed the slam ball where it belonged and moved to the shoulder press equipment. When she tried to do the exercise, she couldn’t even budge the weight.
“What do these guys have this thing set to? Three hundred pounds?” She got up and adjusted it from the entire stack of weights to the lowest setting.
Jolie huffed out a laugh and slowed her sprint. “I saw Rome in here early this morning on that machine.”
She issued a nonchalant snort and settled again in position. “What kind of name is Rome anyway?”
Jolie’s ponytail whipped as she turned her head to look at Stina, still at a dead run. “It’s his last name.”
She blinked. She never considered that. It should shame her that she’d slept with a man and didn’t even know his real name.
“What’s his first then?”
“Jack.”
She fixed her gaze straight ahead and pushed through ten reps while trying to mesh the name with the man’s face. The carved features of a god didn’t totally go with the boy-next-door vibe of Jack.
Jolie jogged to a walk and then stopped. She crossed the gym to sit near Stina and picked up a set of light dumbbells.
For several minutes, neither spoke. Stina focused on her reps as Jolie worked through squats. The silence should have been comfortable, but Stina knew her friend—and she knew Jolie was thinking.
Never a good sign.
After three sets, Jolie set down the dumbbells and reached for her water bottle. “I see the way you and Rome dance around each other.”
Stina almost fell out of her seat. “We don’t dance around each other.”
Jolie took a big gulp. “Sure,” she drawled.
“That’s because we hate each other.” Stina pumped through ten more reps but barely finished, her shoulders were on fire.
Jolie shot her a look. “I don’t buy your story.”
“Of course you don’t. You spent how many years raising your siblings and trying to weed out their lies?”
Jolie lowered the bottle and cocked a hip. “No, really. I don’t think you and Rome hate each other. I think it’s the opposite.”
Stina let out a short laugh. “Not even a little.”
“So that thing I saw between you in the kitchen when you didn’t know I was there…that was hate?”