Page 52 of Bad Enough

She could feel tears wanting to come forward, but she vowed not to cry in front of him.

As if she hadn’t asked those questions, TB informed her, “The guys are going to head over to your place ahead of us to sweep for cameras and microphones. They’re also going to install some of our own cameras, inside and out, for extra protection.”

She gathered herself together, stood tall, and masked her emotions as best she could. Two could play that game. “Won’t that look weird if this guy is watching my place?”

TB shook his head. “No. In fact, it’s what most people would do if they were having this kind of an issue or felt threatened in some way. And again, maybe it will piss him off enough to make a mistake.”

She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought.

He headed for the door. “Come on. I have to head upstairs to my apartment and pack a few things. Then I’ll take you home.” He turned back when he reached the doorway. “I’ll keep you safe, Flame. I promise. With my last breath, if need be.”

Without acknowledging his vow, she stepped toward the door and followed him through the hallway to the elevator.

I’m not worried about you keeping me safe. I’m worried about you breaking my heart.

18

JUNE 15TH

TB

No one had ever been inside his apartment at Tribe. No one. He didn’t even invite the team in. One more first she was bringing into his life.

Squash that shit down. Don’t think about it. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue.

The other voice in his head just snorted in derision.

He had expected it to feel weird for her to be inside his space. It didn’t. However, he did watch her like a hawk as she wandered around checking everything out. Her long skirts dragging at floor level made her look as if she were floating. When her arms raised to run along blank shelves and furniture edges, her delicate fingers extending from the ruffled long sleeves, she reminded him of that elf princess in that movie Nemo had forced him to watch.

The apartment was relatively bare. The furniture had come with the place, and he hadn’t bothered to make a single change in the space. The reality was that it was just a place to maybe eat some takeout and then crash at night. He’d never even used the kitchen other than the refrigerator and the microwave.

He tried to look at the room from her perspective.

There was a brown leather couch and chair, a loveseat, a coffee table, and a large-screen TV.

The kitchen was all stainless steel. A couple of stools at the breakfast bar. No dishes in the sink and very few items in the cupboards and drawers. Even his refrigerator was bare except for a couple bottles of beer and bottled water.

Eventually, she floated down the hall.

His bedroom was just as utilitarian as the rest of the space: bed, nightstand, dresser, and chair with gun magazines stacked on it. A plain navy blue comforter on the bed with lighter sheets. Blackout curtains over the floor-to-ceiling, bulletproof window.

He had a second room across the hall, a carbon copy of this room, except it had a green comforter, matching sheets, and no gun magazines. No one had ever slept in it.

And the bathroom had all the standard amenities. Nothing was on the countertops, no towels hung on the towel bar, just a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap inside of the shower.

He was just packing his laptop into his duffle bag when she finished her tour. “Very you.”

He frowned at her. “That didn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Oh, it wasn’t,” she admitted truthfully. “Very clean and precise. Sterile. Unemotional.” She trailed her fingers along the wall to the small TV table underneath the monitor, which held a DVD player. “Decorate it yourself, did you?”

He grunted, zipping the bag. “No. This is how it was when I moved in. Minus my stuff.”

“You mean the gun magazines addressed to the office? And the closet contents of six pairs of jeans, ten Henleys, two pairs of boots, and a leather jacket, all in shades of black and gray. Easy matching, I commend you. Add to that, roughly half dozen sets of gear in various environmental camouflage. Then there are your drawers with about two weeks’ worth of socks and underwear, a couple pairs of sweatpants, and some T-shirts and tank tops. That takes up two of the four drawers. That stuff?”

“You went through my things?”

She shrugged. “Well, I figure you’re going through mine right now, or your team is, so turnabout should be fair play.”

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