Page 9 of Knot Innocent

Maybe he’ll do me the same favor since I didn’t try to needle the information from him back then. It’s not like I see him all the time at work, anyway. And given that I plan on avoiding the areas where the PMCs congregate for the near future, I can practically guarantee I won’t see him.

The plan sucks more than I’d like to admit, but it can’t be helped. My hidden life needs to remain hidden if I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked so hard to build. I like this life of mine and plan to keep it.

I eventually nod off, thinking about Bastien’s outstanding body, and morning soon comes, bringing a surprising energy despite my odd night. A check outside my window shows a clear sky, meaning the slow-moving storm finally pushed on through the early morning hours. The calm weather means I can get back to my usual morning run that I missed out on yesterday.

Dressing in my favorite leggings and runners, I gather my work clothes and skip over the walkway puddles to reach my car. Traffic is light this early morning, and within ten minutes, I’m biting into a bagel from my favorite coffee shop. I reach the Knot Corporation compound just as the sun clears the treetops.

The air is fresh and cool after the night’s storm, with just a slight leftover breeze stirring the infant leaves on the trees. Some light stretching warms up my muscles, and I set off along the path, still thinking about Bastien’s glitch last night. Whatever his malfunction, he rebooted himself enough to follow me home but not enough to stop and ask the questions burning in his eyes.

What’s that, Birdie? Disappointment? “Shut up,” I grumble to myself.

After my outburst, the only sounds in the woods are the birds and the gravel squishing with each step on the water-logged trail surface. Even the demons are quiet today. They should be. I earned at least a few hours of silence after last night. Peace won’t last long, I’ve learned, but I plan to enjoy it as long as I’ve got it.

Despite the challenging and sometimes slippery terrain, my three-lap circuit is completed in good time. I didn’t pass anyone on the course, and thankfully, I reached the women’s locker room unseen.

I don’t have a problem with any of the personnel here, but I’m awkward on a good day. Rattled Birdie is a guaranteed embarrassment, a scenario I was extremely fortunate to avoid last night. There was no way my pride would have survived a showdown with Bastien right after he had to save my ass.

While showering and getting dressed, I somehow force my thoughts away from Bastien and focus on tasks related to my day job. Three teams are set to deploy within the next two weeks, and every day, it seems I have new consultation requests from various branches of law enforcement.

My recon is done for the PMC deployments, so I’ll jump on the consultation requests that came in yesterday, assigning priorities once I figure out what each department wants. More than likely, I’ll probably begin with whichever contract has an in-person briefing, anything to delay Bastien’s inevitable interrogation.

If none allow me the chance to slink away from Knot Corp, I’ll remain hidden in my office all day, worrying about Bastien darkening my door, demanding answers.

I blow a stray hair out of my face and push my door open after only having to greet the executive receptionist. Pushing my door closed behind me, I let my fake smile fade. I don’t immediately push off the door, instead remaining to study the pictures on my wall. The collection of stills feature Knot operatives sharing candy bars with foreign children, military group shots, our people rendering aid to troops, and an explosion caught at just the right moment. I lean my head against the door and sigh. Those situations are what legitimate concerns look like. You need to get over yourself.

No matter how hairy things got last night, I still went to bed, safe and sound in my own home, while many of our operatives are currently in a war zone. The reality check focuses me, and I walk to my desk to get started.

Dropping into my cushy executive chair, I let my thoughts go to our people, risking their lives to protect servicemen and women in the most dangerous parts of the world. The nature of being a private military contractor is inherently dangerous. Though I’m partly responsible for paramilitary logistics and support, most of my job doesn’t involve working through onsite, life-or-death situations. Our field operatives face those far too often, and securing an international call to me isn’t exactly practical when seconds count. Except for rare occasions, contractors must rely on their own knowledge and experience to get out of hairy situations.

My job is risk assessment and reduction. To do this, I perform thorough background checks on every contract before deployment, checking for pitfalls, lining up evac, and arranging field support from our international outfitters. When my job is done well, many potential problems are mitigated before our contractors’ feet hit the ground.

Occasionally, I’m needed for rescue situations that no one saw coming, foreign and domestic. Whether routine or critical, I always take my job seriously, knowing that a screw-up on my end could put our people at risk.

Once my system is up, I open my email, which shows nothing pressing. Thank god. My plate is already full. I won’t learn about any new DOJ assignments until my regular morning meeting with Knot. Somebody else I wish I could avoid today. His particular brand of ESP can read people like they’ve got ticker tape coming out of their ears. It’s eerie.

It’s also time for another cup of coffee. I’ll be buzzing during my meeting, but at least then, I’ll have an excuse for being antsy. I peer out of my door before darting to the executive lounge, only releasing my held breath once I’m inside. The room is thankfully empty.

I set up the single-serve coffee maker, and the machine bubbles and hisses as it brews, but my mind is a mile away. I’m so distracted that halfway through the process, I can’t remember what I added and didn’t.

The first sip clues me into the sad fact that I screwed up completely. I scrunch my face and wonder what the hell I did wrong before quickly pouring the nasty brew down the sink. Before my second try, I shake the cobwebs from my head and take a deep breath. Fortunately, I get it right this time and give myself a little pep talk before leaving the lounge. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t a very nice one.

Armed with fresh caffeine, I walk toward my office in the executive wing again, determined to be completely chill for my standing appointment with Knot. Except for the caffeine buzz.

I round the last corner before reaching my door and freeze at the sight in the hallway, nearly spilling my coffee. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Bastien, whom I’ve never seen on this floor, stands right outside my office. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I execute a quick turn and dart back around the corner. There’s no way to sneak past him to reach Knot’s office, so my only options are to hide and wait him out or face him.

There’s no question as to why Bastien is here. He finally decided to grill me about last night. There could be no other explanation. All of our other interactions have been in the war room for official briefings. Except for that little chance encounter in the woods. Remember? That day when you cleaned blood spatter off his naked, muscled chest?

The mental picture stirs me, and recalling how his muscles flexed under my fingertips makes me shiver. Criminy, Bird. Now is soooo not the time. Shaking off the effects of the memory, I retreat toward the lounge, but I stop three steps into my escape.

Wait a minute. I’m no coward. Besides, Bastien’s not my father or even my boss. I don’t answer to him. The worst thing he can do is… tell Knot. Shit. I need to handle this and do it fast.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin. Gulping down the rest of my coffee, then coughing because it was a little hotter than was comfortable, I turn right back around and march to my office door.

Bastien looks up as I near, the intensity of his gaze causing my steps to falter. I recover quickly, even as he scans me from head to toe. The big man shoves off the door, moving way more gracefully than a man his size should be able. His black tactical pants and Knot t-shirt do nothing to mask his battle-earned muscles. Sigh.

Ignoring his deep-set dark eyes, clenched jaw, and arm veins that I should not find sexy, I shove through my office door and set my empty cup down. I know what’s coming and take a fortifying breath before facing Bastien again. “How can I help you, Mr. Laurent?”

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