I kept cleaning until the kitchen was back to its original spotless state, and then rolled my neck, relishing the satisfying pop.
“You keep on surprising me, Vixen.”
I jumped and spun around to see Mac—I’d thought I was alone.
“How do you mean?”
He walked over to the trash can and pulled out the full bag, setting it by the door. He didn’t answer me, but came over and gently took my wrist. It was slightly bruised from where he had grabbed me earlier, and he frowned in response. For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him.
“It doesn’t really hurt. Besides, I did hit you first. And I bit your brother.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; bruising women isn’t my style.” His thumb traced circles over the mark, and while I knew I should pull away, I didn’t.
We stood there for a minute until he cleared his throat and backed away. As he headed out the door with the trash bag in hand, I called to him, “You didn’t answer me.”
He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. There was a whole world in those dark eyes, a thousand thoughts and feelings flying by in a matter of seconds. But he just turned and left without a word. I stood there, at a loss for words, and then grabbed the whiskey off the shelf and took a shot straight from the bottle. I realized then there was a lot more to Maverick Mills than what I’d read in his file. His gentle touch scared me more than when he was pinning me to a wall and, with that thought, I took another shot.
After finishing up a few jars of overnight oats for an easy breakfast, I began to wonder how I would get home. Perhaps Tony would take me back again? It was getting dark, and I was tired. I labeled the jars carefully, and putthem in the fridge. Dalton had put his number in my phone earlier, after taking the one Mac had given me back. I shot off a quick text and sat down next to the same cat from the other night. He’d wandered in from the garage at some point, assuming his spot on the island counter, snoozing away. I’d tried shooing him off, and he’d opened a single baleful eye to glare at me before going back to sleep.
I was in the middle of writing out a meal plan when the door swung up, and Dalton walked in. “Hey Vixen, sorry about that. You can go home whenever you want. Tomorrow I’ll have someone show you around the place so you know what you’re cleaning. But you’re done for today.” He rubbed the cat between the ears.
I pointed my pen at the orange tabby. “I don’t think it likes me.”
“Diesel likes a very select few. Don’t take it personal.”
I frowned, and Dalton came closer. “You did good for someone who had this whole thing thrown at you. I think you’ll fit right in.”
I tilted my head at him. “What if I don’t want to fit in?”
He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, and I jerked away in surprise.
“Well, I don’t really have an answer for that. We’ve all gotta find our place.”
We stared at each other for a loaded moment, before he picked Diesel up and turned to leave. “Go home, Vixen.”
With that, he left me in the kitchen before I could ask him how, exactly, I was supposed to do that. Sighing, I hung my list on the fridge and made my way through the garage to the parking lot. I’d been hoping to find Tony or Jackson or literally anyone I recognized, but there were only a few people still around, none of whom I knew.
As I turned to go back in, my eyes landed on something very familiar, and my mouth fell open. My bike was there by the bay door, my helmet sitting on the seat. The slashedtire had been replaced, and it had clearly been washed. I looked around, but no one made a sound or moved towards me. Too tired to ask questions, I turned the ignition, and the bike roared to life.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at the hulking building behind me and thought of the two brothers inside, who’d surprised and intrigued me at every turn. Shaking my head, I pushed all thoughts of them away and focused on the cool wind whipping around me as I headed back to my temporary home.
I shouldn’t have been this satisfied over groceries and fajita toppings. This wasn’t what I trained for. But something about the order, the control of it—it filled a space I didn’t know was empty. Still, I’d take chasing leads with Shelly any day.
Chapter 6
My alarm went off at eight, and I stretched as I reached for my phone. There were only two texts, one from “Uncle Tommy,” reminding me about our dinner date on Friday—which was just a chance for me to update him on my progress. Another was from Dalton, letting me know that Maria was going to meet me at the clubhouse at nine to give me a tour. I yawned, then padded towards the kitchen to start the coffee. If I was going to make it through day two, I’d need caffeine.
As the smell of Folgers permeated the apartment, I shuffled through the clothes in my closet. It had been stocked for me, and whoever did it had picked things that helped me fit in my role. I grabbed a Rolling Stones t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, then hopped in the shower. By the time I left the bathroom, I felt ready to take on almost anything. I slipped on a pair of Vans and braided my still-wet hair. I had about twenty minutes before I had to go, but I didn’t feel very hungry. I flipped on the TV, curled up on the couch, and sipped my coffee, relishing the quiet morning.
Mug washed and all ready to go, I used the number Maria had given me yesterday and shot off a quick text, letting her know I was on my way. I grabbed my earbuds on second thought as I left. Minutes later, I flew out of the parking lot, loving the rumble of my bike between my knees. Turning the corner, I saw Agent Braxton sitting in a business suit at a local coffee shop, looking like any other morning commuter. I shook my head. I didn’t know if handlers were usually this hands-on, since I didn’t have any other undercover op to compare it to, but the dude was borderline needy.
The clubhouse was about a twenty-minute ride from my apartment, but with morning traffic, it took me about thirty minutes to get there. As I pulled in, Maria stepped out. She must have been watching for me.
“Girl, I love your bike. Sexymamacita,” she said, winking at me.
I laughed in response. “Can you ride?”
She shook her head. “Not my thing, to be honest, though I sometimes ride with Diego.”
