Page 78 of Finding Fate

Fate

Today

Nope. I won’t let himguilt me into telling him why I pull away. Not going to work. Not for one second. He can pout all he wants, because if I tell him, then he'll know. Which is obvious, but he can’t know how the lightest, most innocent touch from him puts every hormone in my body on high alert. I don’t want him to know how I can’t control the rapid beat of my heart with each of his looks.

After several minutes, I step into the house but can’t find him. Rhythmic grunting and heavy breathing sound down a back hall. Cautiously, I follow the noise. I push open the first cracked door but it's only a messy, kind of smelly bedroom.

Moving on.

It’s behind the next door I push open that I find him.

He's stripped off his T-shirt, leaving those ass-hugging jeans on, and bobs up and down, up and down, rep after rep of pull-ups. His tan, scarred back muscles flex and bunch with each rep, pulling me into a trance. I can't stop staring as small beads of sweat form along the column of his back and slide down his tan skin.

"Don't be mad," I mutter.

He doesn't respond, just drops from the metal bars. With a quick glance in my direction, his eyes narrow and then focus on the red bag hanging from the ceiling in the corner. "I get that the fucker wants you silenced because you know he killed the general." He slams one fist against the bag, then the other. Keeping his eyes on the swinging bag, he continues, "But you're over here now. He won’t come all the way here to kill you. He thinks you’re some random lonely woman, not the threat you actually are."

"Well...," I muse and fiddle with the lining of my jacket pocket.

"What?"

I swallow hard and keep my eyes on the floor to keep my gawking at a minimum. This room is too small, too warm, smells too much of him. "You didn't answer me earlier. Why am I here? Why not just send me back home?"

"I told you, I wasn't ready to let you go," he says to the bag his forehead presses against.

I dare a step closer. "Is there anything else?" A tingle of hope laces my words. Maybe I am safe if they haven't tracked me. Maybe the general’s second forgot all about my revelation of being with the CIA and didn't communicate it back to Jace.

"There might be one other thing."

My face falls as the blip of hope vanishes.

"Why do you want to know?" His brown eyes flick to me as he rotates his head along the punching bag. "You have your suspicions, don't you? It's why you ran yesterday and why you say you're still not safe," he says more to himself than me. Shoving off the bag, he moves closer until my back presses against the wall and we're toe-to-toe.

The scent of his sweat and soap envelops my senses. Locking my knees to not let them tremble like my insides, I hold his searching stare. Minty exhales brush along my skin with each of his labored breaths. Goose bumps spread up my arms as my own breathing increases, almost matching his own.

"Who do you think it is?"

"Who who is?" I say, not wanting to admit to anything.

"Don't play dumb," he snarls, pressing his palms against the wall on either side of my head, boxing me in. "You're not, so don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about. Who else was tracking your prints? Us, the FBI and one other. Who is it?"

Shit.

The earlier flutter in my stomach vanishes, and I feel the blood drain from my face. "I have to get out of here." Frantic, I attempt to duck under his arm, but he blocks my escape. Looking up, I find his eyes searching mine, the earlier frustration and anger gone, concern taking their place.

"Whatever it is, don't be scared. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, but if you know who's trying to find you, it would make my job a lot easier." The forced smile says he's trying to lighten the mood the only way he knows how. "Dammit, Pops, I’m trying here. Give me something, would ya?"

Right here, between his arms, I do feel safe. But for how long? "My computers." He starts to interrupt, but I keep going. "I'll know if my suspicions are correct if I can take a peek. Then I'll tell you everything."

“Why after?”

“Because it’s been five months since... I need to know if who I believe is searching for me actually is. I won’t give you his name just for you to run out and ruin what I’ve been working toward for the past year. Let me look. Then I’ll tell you and we can figure out a plan after. Deal?”

His teeth sink into his lower lip, gaining my full attention. "I’m not trying to push you, but we need to know sooner than later, Pops.” His brown eyes search mine. “After lunch. I'm starving."

"Okay," I say breathlessly, still staring at that full lip, now with teeth indentions. "What do you want to eat?"

"You."

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