Page 4 of Known By You
Listen, cerebral, I was not. Any personality test I’d ever taken showed the opposite, sometimes to my advantage, and sometimes to my detriment. When you join a special operations elite unit like the Exceptional Mission Unit, you’re tested for everything from psychosis to IQ to learning style to leadership capability, and that’s before you get out of the room with the very kind, super smart, freakishly insightful psych who sees right through you.
I tended to be an open book about most things, so not a problem. Most of their findings weren’t news to me, but having someone confirm my lack of chill had been oddly affirming. It wasn’t just that I tended toward restlessness—it was that I was anactivator. I liked doing things first, learning from them as I went. I liked experiences over stuff, people over solitude. The results and psych evals had spelled it all out, and it felt more like a pat on the back for who I already was than the repeated refrains I’d heard as a child begging me to calm down, be quiet, be a little lessme.
After powering through the few bits of paperwork and email drudgery waiting for me, I rallied in the conference room for another meeting. Two days in a row was unusual, but nothing alarming. Other than a handful of local celebswho needed personal security while in town to ski and what have you, we were pretty slow.
When my heart rate kicked up as Liz walked in, I chalked it up to the novelty factor. I’d already made my decision. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed by my past effort to take her out five years ago, even if she did laugh at me when I did so. It hadn’t been cruel—it’d almost seemed like she’d been genuinely surprised. And I’d never forget the way her lips curved up as she said, “You’re cute. Thanks for asking, but no. I don’t date.”
And that was that.
She had no idea what the wordcutedid to me at the time, nor could she understand the baggage she’d tapped into with that one little sentence. So. No weirdness. Just friendship.
She wore a suit instead of the “roughs” most of the staff at Saint opted for—plaid flannel button-up shirt and utility pants, with boots in the winter or something lighter in the warmer months. I hadn’t seen her in anything but suits when we worked together years ago, so naturally I wondered… did that bun come out when the blazer came off? Was her chestnut hair on the short end? Long? Against her almost olive skin tone, it looked?—
I sucked in a breath when her gaze lifted, then turned and met mine.
Caught me.
Oopsie daisy.
I’d been pretty obvious about checking her out, but I hadn’t been doing it in a sleazy way. More just… noticing she looked the same.
The dark eyes… they still had the same magnetic power I’d felt years ago. They held this knowing—an incredible intelligence she’d showcased in subtle ways with suggestions to guide the op we’d cooperated on, and intuition about the situation that had seemed like she’d done the job for thirty years, not ten. She’d been this tough, capable, certain person who was not a bit intimidated or impressed by our unit showing up, which had been its own sort of novelty.
And at one point, when she’d been talking to my team leader, she’d smiled. It’d been small, subdued, but it damn near stole my breath. Here was a woman who knew herself and wouldn’t let anyone railroad her.
Those eyes of hers still apparently had the power to make my brain white out and my self-control shrivel up. With her attention on me, I just wanted to look and look.
She must not’ve felt the same because her gaze jumped away from mine and centered on Bruce.
“Let’s get going. I think we have everyone who’s not assigned right now,” he said, checking his notes then looking up as someone entered the room.
Julian Grenier, our local benevolent billionaire, strolled in with an infant car seat hooked over his left suit-covered arm like a purse. On someone else it might seem odd, but on this man it appeared to be the perfect accessory to his bespoke slate suit and hawkish gaze. He extended a hand to Bruce, who shook it, even as he set the infant seat down. Julian then nudged the forward edge with the tip of his fine leather shoe and made it rock.
Dang.If little Josie had been awake, I totally would’ve gotten some baby snugs.
“You all know Julian. He’s here because the assignment I have is a sensitive one,” Bruce explained.
“It’ll be a personal favor to me and I’m happy to incentivize as needed.” His voice was low and calm, but the fact he’d showed up today meant this really mattered to him.
He’d initially invested in Saint Security when Wilder and Bruce were just getting started a few years ago. He’s how the fledgling company was able to provide world-class protection from the jump.
“We won’t need additional incentive to do our jobs,” Adam said, not quite scowling but… perturbed.
As our medical expert and a man who always did the right thing, it didn’t surprise me he’d be bothered. Bruce and Wilder likely wouldn’t stand for it either as our resident Saint Daddies with unflinching moral compasses.
“I mean, let the man speak.” If a billionaire wanted to give me a bonus, who was I to refuse?
Everyone groaned like I’d made a bad joke, and they weren’t wrong. I might not be the Captain America of the group, but I probably was at least, like, Spidey? Maybe? And he followed his sweet lil’ moral compass pretty well, too.
Maybe. Not everyone laughed, though. Because—I swear I wasn’t looking for Liz’s reaction—I did notice her expression didn’t flicker and her mouth certainly didn’t slide up into a begrudging smile like Luc’s. Not even an eye roll like Beast.
Tough audience.
Then Bruce laid out the needs of the assignment and it clicked into place—why Julian would want to be here to impress upon us the situation mattered to him, even though he should know we’d take care of it.
Saint Security would handle it, and if I had my way, I’d be on the team.
CHAPTER THREE
