Page 5 of Lost (Powertools: The Shields 2)

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Kennedy attempted to ignore the wave of lust that crashed over her at the sound of her name falling from Knox’s lips. It had been years since she’d heard that sound in person, but only hours since it had echoed through her dreams.

Though she’d played it cool with Jordan and the rest of the Shields, Marcus especially, there was nothing blasé about her attitude toward the man in front of her now. He was no longer the boy she’d grown up with, his once-smooth skin dotted with facial hair and his barely-there laugh lines now etched into grooves that only came with time and persistent anxiety.

At least she wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him. Because as much as she’d loved the boy he’d been, her body responded instinctively to the man he’d grown into. And if his hard edges turned her on despite the unfortunate reality of how he’d earned them, well, she’d talk to the team’s shrink about that in her next session. For this one night, she had a free pass.

She could experience everything she’d regretted not doing with him before and pretend it was for the greater good instead of her own personal needs. It was a perfect out, if that’s what it took to either persuade him to come back to Shields with her or to distract him so that they could force him to.

Kennedy made her brain replay what he’d just asked so the gap before her response didn’t grow too long and awkward.

“What am I doing here? Same as you, I suppose.” She shrugged as if she hung out in dive bars and took men home for meaningless fucks all the time when in fact she hadn’t been to this shithole or any other since the last time they’d partied there together. “Grabbing a drink and maybe someone to spend the evening with. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic.”

“Really? Holy. Fucking. Shit.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

And she didn’t blame him.

Nothing could be further from the truth. No, her nights were usually spent supporting her friends as they ended bad guys, and patching them up when shit went weird. Or hanging out with them at the Shields’ headquarters, planning, plotting, exercising, or lately falling asleep on Marcus’s couch after watching movies with a solid two-cushion-width safety zone between them.

Who would provide medical assistance for her if things didn’t go according to plan today?

Kennedy forced those thoughts from her mind as Knox scrutinized her reaction. He was no idiot, but if he doubted her story, he didn’t call her on it. Instead he leaned against the bar as if he needed it to steady him. Great, exactly how much had he had to drink? James had told her he’d only ordered one, though he could have frontloaded before arriving. Or maybe he was on something else. Something harder.

Kennedy’s stomach cramped.

“You okay?” Knox asked, making her aware that she’d winced and pressed her hand to her middle. Why did he still have the power to turn her insides to mush at the slightest show of affection or concern? He reached out as if to steady her when they both knew he was the one who’d always been on shaky ground.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just kind of a shock to see you again.”

“Still get those nervous poops like before big tests, huh?” Knox barked out a laugh. “You should see a doctor about that.”

“Iama doctor.” She didn’t see any reason to lie about that.

“No shit.” Knox seemed impressed but not entirely surprised. He’d always told her she could be whatever she chose.

“Yeah, what about you?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. He was a bad guy. The kind of person they hunted. One who’d been lured into things he likely would never have considered, never mind done, if it weren’t for the draw of drugs. Except, when she peered into his eyes, she saw a glimmer of the person he’d been and wondered if he could really be trying to find himself as desperately as she once had.

“I’m a loser.” He would have turned away then, but she stopped him with her hand on his shoulder.

“You know I never thought that about you.” An addict, yes. A horrible human being, of course not. Addiction did awful things to a person.

“Well, I always said you were a terrible judge of character,” Knox spit out.

“I guess I still make bad decisions sometimes then.” She forced out an ironic laugh at the end of her deliberately seductive innuendo. It was the truth, he just had no idea how true it was. This whole op was going to give her nightmares for the next ten years to rival the ones she’d lived with for the past decade. But how could she have said no? Maybe she’d been granted one last chance to save him. Them?

Kennedy swallowed hard.

“What the hell does that mean?” Knox’s gaze snapped to hers.

“Want to make one with me? Poor judgment loves company.” She rocked forward so that she whisper-shouted the question a fraction of an inch from his too-familiar lips. Already, she could imagine what they would taste like: sin and crappy whiskey.

“What exactly are you asking?”

“I’m saying, if you’re of sound mind to make these sorts of decisions…”

“I’ve only had one damn drink,” he grumbled. “Should have had another.”

“Nothing else?”

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