by Cindy Dees
Caitlin pulled her gaze first, her fingers curling inside the privacy of her lab coat. To Stan, she said, “I’ll be in the lab, cleaning up the mess. We have a lot of ground to make up and we have no idea of knowing how unstable the sample is wherever it’s being held.”
“I’ll need to vet each of your team from this point forward,” Zak said, his tone firm. “There’s a chance this was an inside job.”
“Not possible. I handpicked my team,” Caitlin said, affronted by the suggestion. “I’d know if I had a traitor on my team.”
“Not likely, but it’s not your fault. You’re not trained to search out evidence of deception.”
“I can appreciate that, but I know my team. Your efforts are better spent looking on the outside.”
Stan interjected with a gruff approval to Zak, “You do what you feel is necessary.” To Caitlin, he said, “And I trust you’ll do whatever is necessary to ensure he has what he needs to accomplish his goal in keeping this lab secure.”
“Of course,” she replied stiffly, hating being told what to do in her own lab. “But I feel it prudent to point out that Mr. Ramsey’s energy can be spent pursuing more fruitful endeavors than areas that I already know are dead ends.”
She expected pushback but Zak simply said, “We’ll see,” and left it at that, which gave her little to argue further. Stan nodded, accepting the end of that particular discussion, even though Caitlin wanted to squash the theory that anyone on her team had been responsible.
Stan turned to Zak. “I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, before exiting the conference room.
She was alone with Zak now. Within seconds the silence between them blossomed to excruciating levels and Caitlin was almost relieved when Zak gestured for her to lead the way to the lab with an ultrapolite “After you.”
Caitlin spun on her heel and tried to pretend she didn’t have a sanctioned stalker. But her body seemed hyperaware—an ordinary activity such as walking was suddenly outside of her wheelhouse and she stumbled on imaginary obstacles.
“Are you all right?” Zak asked, reaching out to steady her but she shook off his help with embarrassment.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, her cheeks heating. “I was distracted.” You distract me.
This was her new reality, she realized. A tall, handsome, movie-star-looking bodyguard trailing her every move, breathing down her neck, probably thinking to himself that he’d definitely pulled the short straw for this gig.
Lord help me.
High school hadn’t felt this awkward and high school had been hell.
Copyright © 2019 by Kimberly Sheetz
ISBN-13: 9781488041297
Special Forces: The Recruit
Copyright © 2019 by Cynthia Dees
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