Page 17 of Countdown to Murder
“Not by yourself. Buddy system, remember?”
Her eyes snapped with enough voltage to stop a heart. “Then stop talking and finish eating.”
She said it with zero vocal inflection, and yet, it made me want to kiss her. I had it bad for the little snake shifter, and I had no idea what I was going to do about it when this op was over.
I don’t do virgins. Also, while I’m not opposed to short-term relationships, my life doesn’t work well for anything long term. I have fun flings, full of sex and playfulness, and when the fling ends, we almost always stay on good terms with each other. Whatever was growing between Mira and me wasn’t playful — it threatened to pull me into the deep end without a life vest.
I ate my last burger in three bites, downed the glass of ice water Mira had filled for me when she got hers, and stood. She was five steps ahead of me, but I didn’t run to catch up.
Everyone was ready for the meeting to start when I stepped into the room. I brought up a blueprint of the second floor on my phone, pulled a projector from my pocket, told my phone to send to it, and aimed the projector at a white section of wall.
Within twenty minutes, we’d outlined our strategy, and we’d marked bedroom assignments on the digital blueprint, along with empty rooms. I instructed Jones to put some empty ammo boxes and suitcases in the unused rooms to make them look active, and then we talked about the best spots to locate the motion detectors and cameras. His people had already wired every window for any movement or vibration. I marked everything on the blueprint, messaged it to both Jones and Sloan, as well as the on-site control room, and ended the meeting by telling them, “I’m going to load up on sleep while I can, since Mira and I will likely be awake the night before Halloweenandthe entire twenty-four hours of Halloween day, should we not have him by then. Wake me if you need me. I’ll set my alarm for eighteen hundred, but if something happens before then, knock on my door.”
Our shift didn’t start until twenty-one hundred, but I wanted to get started before sunset. Besides, a solid eight hours of sleep would set me up fine to only get catnaps in for the next four days. I didn’t need to sleep longer.
Mira waited and walked with me to our room this time, but my instincts told me not to thank her for doingso. She’s the consummate professional who prides herself on following the chain of command, and I figured she’d take offense by being thanked for doing her job.
I was troubled by this and analyzed why. In a nutshell, this behavior is perfect in an employee, but not ideal when it comes to romance. I reminded myself I was keeping things professional with Mira, and opened the door and went in first.
I told myself I went in first to make sure it was safe, but in reality, motioning her in first wasn’t professional. I wouldn’t do so for a male colleague, so I shouldn’t do it for a female one. We all depend on the others to watch our backs while we watch theirs. Male or female doesn’t matter, especially with a supernatural team.
Mira watched me take my suit jacket off and hang it, and then take my shirt off. She was digging in her bag, but I could tell she was watching from her peripheral vision.
Shapeshifters think nothing of nudity. We see each other without clothes when we strip before wechange, and when we come back to human after one. No biggie. I’ve roomed with Cora and changed clothes without thinking anything of it.
But when I went to take my pants off, Mira stood and stared at me as if she were about to be scandalized. Accusatory. Not angry, because that was an emotion, and yet, she was clearly uncomfortable with my nudity before I’d even undressed.
I met her gaze. “Do I need to swap us, so you’re with Sloan during the day and Ember’s with me at night?”
“No. I’m fine. I just expected you’d use the bathroom to undress. Let me get some clothes and I’ll change in there.”
She came out in sweatpants and a loose tee. I was in shorts and no shirt. She pulled the blanket off the bed, grabbed a pillow, and went to the sofa. I decided not to argue. I’d be more than fine with just a sheet.
I also noted that she put her AR on the floor beside the sofa and her Sig on the side table. She tucked the long-knife — still inside the sheath — under the sofa cushion with the handle pointing out.
I put two handguns on the table beside the bed, my own AR on the floor, and tucked a knife inside the scabbard under my pillow.
I slept like the dead. I went to the bathroom once, but otherwise, eight hours passed like nothing. Mira sat up when my alarm went off, and she looked as if she felt the same. She rose and went to the bathroom without saying a word, and I assumed she’d slept straight through. My lion would’ve awakened me if she’d gotten up.
Or I was pretty sure he would’ve. If he’d decided he liked her, he might trust her, but that was rare.
I opted not to follow that line of thinking any farther.
“You should shower first, and then I’ll take a turn,” I told her through the door. “I’m wearing tac-gear today.”
“I’ll do the same.”
The water turned on, and I went to my suitcase to pull out what I’d wear.
She came out of the bathroom seven minutes later in only the loose tee. My dick reacted, but I kept it from swelling. The tee came down nearly to her knees, so it wasn’t like she was trying to be sexy. I reprimanded my libido and my dick, and focused on the job at hand. I’d made the bed, and had my weapons and ammo lined up across it. I grabbed my clothes and went into the bathroom.
When I came out ten minutes later, she was wearing tactical pants, a snug long-sleeved black tee, a tactical vest, and was organizing her weapons and ammo across the foot of the bed. Her hair was still wet but seemed to be drying into the casual shape I’m used to seeing it, and she wore more makeup than I’d seen her in yet.
The makeup made her icier. More severe. And yet, there was a fire there, too. I couldn’t explain the dichotomy, so I tried to analyze the difference. Eyeliner made her eyes show up more, and shading under her cheeks made her look even thinner than her already slim, sharp shape. Also, I’d swear her eyebrows were different.
And her lips.Fuck, but I wanted to see them wrapped around my dick with that shade of lipstick on them.
“The makeup is so our client won’t dismiss me as not having fashion sense. It’s done in the latest style, and it’s bold.” She held up a six-inch-long lock of white hair aboutas big around as my thumb. “This goes on so it looks like my hair. If I don’t remember to stick it in a pocket while I’m patrolling outside, please remind me.”
