Page 18 of Being Bold
“Never heard of it. What, are you like bodyguards?” She spoke, and he mentally shook his head.
No. He couldn’t conjure the melody of her words. That sirenic quality was too unique.
“Sometimes, but we also do other . . .” How could he put this? “Military-style operations.”
The tiniest line formed between her brows when she squinted at him as if trying to understand.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and added, “Like hostage evac or, uh . . .”
Her eyes widened. “You kill people.”
He met her shocked stare straight on. “Bad people.”
He hoped the admission didn’t send her running out the door. In this weather, he’d have no choice but to chase after her and hold her captive, even if it was against her will. Because the other option was death. And he didn’t need any more of that on his conscience—at least not the innocent kind.
She blew out a breath and gave a tiny nod. “People like Mr. Dao.”
Relieved that he hadn’t repulsed her, Bo let out the breath he’d been holding. “To help you, I’m going to need more information about what happened.”
Selene straightened, her gaze taking him in, assessing him before she leaned back in the chair. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he answered with the smallest twitch of his lips. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a reason to smile, but she’d already made him want to more than once.
Before he got lost studying her face—she had the tiniest little mole next to her right eyebrow—he pushed off the counter and started working on the grilled cheese sandwiches.
She needed food. Then he’d grill her about her boss.
“Bo?”
He froze, unwilling to turn around and face those ocean eyes. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he went back to prepping the sandwiches.
“I can’t pay you. I just lost my job.” She followed her statement with a humorless laugh.
“Did I ask for payment?” he growled the question as he spun.
“No, but . . .” she trailed off at the fierce look he knew showed on his face.
Sure, Tactical Operations & Protection charged a hefty price for its services, but Selene was different. Fate had dropped her at his door. This wasn’t about TOP. It was about . . . his chance at redemption or at least the opportunity to work toward it.
And maybe with her, it’s about a little more than that.
He shook that thought from his head before it could lead him into dangerous territory. Despite being a soldier-for-hire, he wasn’t helping her for money. He’d offered without that ever crossing his mind. Acknowledging it, his chest tightened uncomfortably, and he had to look away.
He heard her soft sigh before she said, “Thank you.”
Again, with that damn word!His hand tightened around the handle of the frying pan he’d just taken out for the grilled cheese. Setting it on the stove-top with more force than necessary, he ground out, “Don’t mention it.”
Ever again.
He didn’t want her gratitude, but he did want the truth. If her boss wanted her dead, she knew more than she’d mentioned. Bo dropped a pat of butter in the frying pan and listened to it sizzle against the hot iron.
He needed to hear the whole story, call Victor and bring TOP into the equation. His team leader would have final say on their involvement . . . at least, officially. But Bo had every intention of seeing this through until he knew Selene would be safe.
He needed to save her to . . . his thoughts stuttered. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about this when he’d just met her. Hell, for all he knew, she could be a criminal. His gut clenched in protest, knowing that wasn’t true. She was alone, scared, and running for her life. Whatever happened, she didn’t deserve that. He knew on a soul-deep level. Enough to make him want to make things right for her.
A loud pop as the butter overheated pulled his thoughts back to the task at hand. Lowering the heat on the burner, he focused on grilling the sandwiches, not the intriguing woman waiting at his kitchen table.
His mouth watered as the meal cooked, sending the unctuous aroma of browning butter and fried cheese to his nose. He’d been eating civilian MREs for the last week, putting off his monthly supply run to Bozeman. Bo didn’t mind the ready-made meals, but after so many days of lukewarm puree, he looked forward to what he typically saved as his last supper before restocking his pantry.
