Page 6 of He Is Jensen: Part One

Chapter three

Jensen

With my GTECH sensesscreaming in warning, I follow Layla inside her house, leaving my team covertly nestled around the exterior perimeter. I shut the door behind me, welcoming any added barrier between us and the Zodius, who I am certain are nearby.

Layla turns to face me, close, so close that the soft floral scent of her insinuates into my nostrils and warms my blood. Close enough that I can see the infinitesimal specks of amber sunshine and honey in her gaze. She’s a woman now, beautiful and confident, with curves in all the right places and the most amazing mouth that demands to be kissed.

We stare at one another, the air crackling with a mixture of unmistakable, surprisingly clear and present, shared attraction, along with something edgier, darker, that tells me she’d probably smack me if I really did try and kiss her. And I’d deserve it for standing her up so long ago; I’d even welcome it if it would get the past out of the way and dispel the uncertainty and distrust radiating off of her. She’s on edge and suspicious of me, which only makes me more suspicious ofher.The coincidence of her involvement in something so near to me is hard to digest—nearly impossible—while her months in Germany could have easily been spent in a lab with Julian Rain.

But none of this stops my eyes from tracing her lush lips and imagining how she might taste.

My gaze lifts to her cautious one. “You should lock up,” I tell her, wanting to do it myself but afraid I’ll put her more on edge, as if I’m a crazy person from her past who’s trying to hold her captive.

She sets her purse on the slim mahogany table against the wall. “Locks will slow my escape if you turn out to be some sort of crazy stalker.”

My lips twitch at the playful accusation, though I know she isn’t completely joking.Good thing I didn’t lock the door myself, I think with amusement. “Since when does a crazy stalker wait for an invitation to come inside?”

She crosses her arms in front of her. “I’ve heard stalkers are quite patient and calculating.”

“I don’t have fourteen years of patience, which is how long it’s been since we last saw each other. Is there someplace we can sit down and talk?”

“I met you in a library forever ago. There’s no logic to how you can be standing in my house. What is this about?”

“Science. And I’m just as surprised as you to be here and to have seen your name on the list of people who might be able to help me.” I hold up my hands. “I promise you. This is a business visit.” I lower my hands, my voice softening. “The way we parted ways has always been a nagging regret I’ve never fully understood. We were kids who barely knew each other. It’s really good to see you.”

She studies me several beats, her intelligent gaze sizing me up, before she motions down the hall. “This is still weird, but okay. This way.”

I hang back a bit, flip the locks into place, and follow her into a shiny, all-white, rectangular-shaped kitchen that sparkles with the kind of perfection you expected of a soldier’s home. But then, she’d grown up a soldier’s daughter.

She brushes the windblown brown silk of her hair from her face and motions toward the table, offering me a seat, but without any indication that she plans to sit down herself. I arch a brow. “You’re not going to join me?”

“Not until I know how and why you’re here,” she says, leaning against a counter. “And frankly, I’d rather you sit while I stand. It makes me feel like I have a running chance if this reunion turns bad.”

I chuckle and grab a wooden chair from the table, whipping it around and straddling it to rest my arms on the back. “Happy now?”

“No. No, I am not happy. I feel like I am in theTwilight Zone. And I can’t think of one reason why the boy who stood me up for a date fourteen years ago would show up on my doorstep out of the blue like this. How did you even know where to find me?”

Damn, there it is. The reason I deserved to be slapped. “That night—”

She holds up a hand. “I don’t need to know.”

“I want—”

“Please don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s awkward. It’s over. And actually, just thinking about how I sat in that library for hours waiting for you is making me ridiculously and irrationally mad. Maybe you should just tell me why you’re here.”

As much as I want to push, want to explain the past, that prickly instinct I felt outside is ever present and warning me that trouble is nearby, and I need to get to the point. “We need your help, Layla.”

“We—being who?”

“We—being my special operations unit.”

“You joined the Army?”

“Fourteen years ago.”

She blinks and seems to process the timeline to our missed date, but she doesn’t comment on that point. “Why in the world would a special operations unit need my help?”

“There’s a highly addictive street drug being circulated around the general population. And when I say addictive, I mean, once you use this drug, you can’t stop without dying. If we don’t come up with a method to safely wean people off the drug, we’re looking at mass casualties. We’re hoping you can help us make that happen.”

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