Page 69 of The Torturer's Target

She felt like she was reaching her breaking point, the haunting memories and the nightmares becoming too much to bear.

She was in a race against time. She needed to kill the men who murdered her father before the brewing storm within her overcame her.

The next morning, Max sat hunched over his laptop keyboard in his home office. The air was thick with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and he took a sip from the steaming mug beside him as he sifted through the files.

Despite the caffeine coursing through his veins, Max felt a persistent sense of fatigue weighing him down. His mind had been restless, haunted by the memory of Tesiera’s kiss. He never expected kissing her to feel that good. Her lips, soft and warm against his own, had left him longing for more. He couldn’t help but recall how her fiery red hair cascaded down her back, and how her curvaceous figure had felt pressed against his own. Sleep was impossible with those images and sensations running through his mind.

With a shake of his head, Max pushed the memory away. He returned his attention to the work in front of him. Files to review and endorse for the hospital and for the business.

A soft knock came at his door, interrupting the silence. Max paused and gazed at the door. “Come in.”

Tesiera strode in, looking as stunning as ever. She wore a black form-fitting sleeveless leather top and pants that hugged her curves, and black combat boots with heels on them. Her fiery red hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail, held in place by a few black hairpins. Max couldn’t help but appreciate how her outfit highlighted her stunning figure, causing a ripple of desire to course through him.

He wanted nothing more than to bend her over his desk, push her pants down and fuck her in that attire.

His first instinct was to ask her how she was feeling, but he hesitated as he gazed at her face. She wore a blank expression that betrayed nothing of her thoughts or emotions.

“I wanna apologize for the night before,” she announced.

“You did that last night.”

“I want to do it again. I promise that it won’t happen again,” she said.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, deciding to risk it.

“I’m okay, sir.” She saw the small bruises on his face, probably from their fight. “I’m sorry about the bruises.”

“It’s nothing.” He brushed it off with a wave of his hand.

He heaved an inward sigh when he heard her call him ‘sir’ again. He thought they’d gotten over that. Max surveyed her carefully and her eyes rose to meet his, challenging him. It was obvious that she wanted that professional ground between them. So, they were gonna pretend that kiss never happened, huh?

He got the message loud and clear.

“Where are Bose and Clinton?” he asked keeping the disappointment out of his voice.

“I’ve not seen them this morning, but Paul said they are with Maintenance in the surveillance room.”

“Good. Tell them to get ready; we leave in the next thirty minutes.” If he hadn’t witnessed it, he never would have believed this was the same woman as the one he’d seen the night before. The woman who’d crawled into his arms for protection and held on tight while sobbing against him.

“I’ll do that, sir,” she said. “I would like to adjust our agreement so that I can take on missions without your permission.”

He regarded her carefully. “You know, I was skeptical in your sincerity when you asked to work for me. It’s why I made those demands. You can do whatever you need to do. You’ve more than paid for your mistake when you took a bullet for me in the hospital’s parking lot. You can leave my employment at any time you wish.”

Her eyes pierced him, and he could see the wheels in her head turning in the silence that followed.

She gave a small nod. “I appreciate your understanding, sir. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Max gritted his teeth. He hated that ‘sir’ as much as he hated her cold demeanor. “That’ll be all,” he said calmly.

Tesiera inclined her head and made her way to the door. She was just about to step out when Max asked, “Have you thought of going to therapy?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Tesiera turned to face him. “I don’t care enough for one.”

“It might help,” he said gently. “What I saw last night …” His head shook. “You need help, Tesiera.”

“I’m fine,” she said curtly. “I can take care of myself, sir. And like I said before, I’ll make sure what happened last night never happens again.”

Outside the door of his office, Tesiera headed for the surveillance room. She wouldn’t let her mind be poked and probed by some stranger. Only those who had a will to live, who fought to live and loved their life so much that they didn’t want to lose it, got therapy to repair themselves.

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