That afternoon in Kandahar came rushing back, the only difference being that then, instead of the rural landscape, she had been in the middle of a city, and instead of a screaming mother, it had been a screaming child. On a military crawl, Annabelle tried to ignore the synthetic screams that echoed all around the warehouse, and she continued to move. Deciding to attack from behind, even if it was risky because it would take a little more of the precious time the mother and child robots didn’t have, she went slow and methodically around. She wished the screams would stop but she continued on her forearms, moving forward underneath a plastic, albeit realistic, fallen log, and through a swamp. Her uniform, now wet and muddy, weighed a ton. But the sound of an automatic weapon from afar stunned her into jumping into an upright position. She narrowed her eyes and saw the robotic body of the killer pointing a gun at her. Ducking, she rolled and shot at his leg at the same time as a bullet came flying from behind and grazed her shoulder. She kept moving forward, even though it stung.
A series of clicks resonated around her, confusing her, and two real live humans, who she recognized as ICS recruits, charged at her. This was unexpected and not at all what had been designed into the simulation.
Fucking Joey!
She moved aside, avoiding a fist to the face.
What the fuck?
An elbow jab to the gut and a kick to the guy she felt creeping up behind her. It was dark, so it wasn’t easy. She had to rely on her senses.
“This is bullshit, Joey!” she yelled out loud as she moved quickly to the half-disabled insurgent, arms outstretched forward. One eye on the target, she pulled the trigger just as the air left her in a blow to the rib from one of the recruits, bowling her over in pain.
It took a moment to adjust to the lights that were suddenly turned on. She was on her knees, hunched over, arms around her waist. Recruits number one and two, which she now saw clearly as Shawn and James, didn’t look any better. She looked up to find the droid’s eyes X’ed, which meant he was dead. The mother looked like she’d survived.
“You think you’ll be able to protect a man twice your height and weight against God knows who is trying to terrorize him? You’re on your hands and knees.”
She looked up at Joey and cringed from the stinging pain. Still holding her bruised ribs and ego, she stood. “Motherfucker, you ambushed me. Since when do you send live people in here? You want me to fail, you sonofabitch.” She felt a lump in her throat.
“You think the bad guys will have a sign to let you know they’re coming? You think they’re going to come at you one by one? An ambush is not unheard of, kid. When I agreed to the Monroe job I didn’t think you’d be in actual danger. Now that Colombia’s back on, I needed to make sure you’re ready. Colombia’s no joke. You did good in there, I’m proud of you. Makes me feel better sending you out.”
And that was it. She’d had enough.
She was fighting real battles out in the field and fake fucking battles with her brother.
He didn’t know the shit she’d gone through overseas. “This is bullshit, and you know it. The target is down, the civilians rescued, and two of your fucking men are in no better shape than I am. I don’t give a fuck if you’re proud of me. If I was ambushed on the job, I’ve just proven I can keep the client alive long enough to do my damn job.”
Annie paused to take a breath. “But that’s not what this is about. You thought I couldn’t handle a real ambush? You had to put me through all of that to prove it? I’ll give you a glimpse of my life, Josef. The man I loved, he died three feet away from me. You didn’t know that, did you? You didn’t know I was in love and that I watched him die.”
“Annie . . .” he whispered.
“And my friend, a little girl, she died in my arms. She lasted a few hours but I couldn’t dig us out of the rubble to get her the help she needed, so she died and I held her lifeless body for almost three days! So, I’m not experienced? Have you ever been stuck under boulders, barely able to breathe, with a dead girl in your arms, not knowing if anyone would ever find you? No! You haven’t. And guess what, Joey, even after that, I served my country for another four fucking years. I did not give up. I kept going. So don’t tell me that I don’t know what war is. That I don’t know how to defend myself or protect others. I should not have to prove myself, especially not to my own brother! So fuck you, Joey. Fuck you! And do not fucking call me kid. In fact, don’t call me at all.”
On her way out of the room, she glanced at Shawn and James, who she’d hit full-on. This wasn’t a mock anything, this had been a real gauntlet and they all had real bruises and scrapes to prove it. And the rubber bullet? The one that grazed her shoulder? It burned.
Not bothering with the locker room, she slid off her shirt, took off the Kevlar, threw it on the floor—they’d all seen a sports bra before—put her shirt back on, tossed the weapons on a bench, and got the hell out of ICS.
Was this Joey’s sick way of punishing her for kissing a client or was this his sick way of telling her she wasn’t qualified for the job? Probably both, she thought.
She was fuming, in pain, and pissed. She should’ve gone home, but she’d been gone for three hours and it was time to relieve Clark from Rocco duty.
What got her through the drive (and pain) was that Jacuzzi waiting for her at Rocco’s house. Fuck being professional, she was going to soak in there for the next twelve hours.
Rounding the corner, she pressed the button on the app and the gate swung open. A moment later Clark opened the door. “Holy shit, you okay?”
“Fine,” she hissed. “You’re off. I’m in,” she said walking right past him. “Anything to report?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“Let yourself out.”
* * *
Rocco woke up with a stupid grin on his face and a huge hard-on courtesy of Annie. He couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss. She had been shy, which he hadn’t expected. And that, for some reason, had turned him on. Or maybe it was just her. Everything she did just turned him on. Plus, she hadn’t kicked his ass for being so forward. That had to count for something, right?
He couldn’t wait to walk downstairs and finish what they started last night. He just hoped she’d be on the same page as he was. He’d given her the night to think about it, but now it was time to make a decision.
By the time he finished his morning routine, it was almost eleven. He wondered if she’d slept in. She never seemed to sleep in, but since they’d arrived home so late last night, maybe she’d sleep longer. Sleeping would do her good. Set her mind at ease, put things into perspective. There weren’t many things in life he enjoyed more than a good night’s sleep. And he wanted that for her too.
When he rounded the last step he was startled to see a man in a suit sitting on the couch. Quickly folding his newspaper, the man stood up.
“Who the hell are you?” Rocco snapped.
“Good morning, Mr. Monroe. Wilson Clark, from ICS.”
What?
“Where’s Annabelle?”
“She had to leave.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. I just follow orders.”
Suddenly, that giddy feeling he’d had a moment ago whooshed out of his system. Trying to school his emotions, he walked straight to the kitchen. Leave? Forever? Why didn’t she say anything last night? Maybe she really didn’t like the kiss.
He felt like a fool but he was also angry. At the very least he deserved some sort of explanation or good-bye.
“There’s coffee, sir. But it’s been hours since Annabelle made it.”
She made him coffee? She didn’t drink coffee, so it was something she’d done for him. His emotions were all over the place.
He took out a mug, and when he went to pour himself a cup, he noticed a note against the coffeemaker.
I was called into ICS. Didn’t want to wake you. Clark will be here a few hours until I get back. Behave. I gave Clark instructions to use physical force to subdue you, if
need be.
Annie
He let out a big breath. Okay, so, she hadn’t just left him. The relief he experienced was an unfamiliar feeling.
The phone vibrated in his pocket with an incoming text. It was Paul.
I guess you finally charmed her into sleeping with you.
Attached was a photo of a couple lost in a kiss. So much so, they looked ready to rip off their clothes, irrespective of who was watching. It wasn’t a “pretend” embrace. It was real and raw and way too intimate to be splattered across the media. He wanted to be the only one who got to see that look in her eyes. He did not want that photo on display. He almost flung his phone across the room.
Damn. Did she know about this? Is that why she’d been summoned to ICS? He thought about the warning Paul had given him when he’d first told him about hiring Annie. Sleeping with him could ruin her reputation and credibility. Plus, she’d said time and time again that she needed to be professional and do her job and she was trying really hard to make a name for herself. Making out with him had the exact opposite effect, and maybe right this second she was getting fired or reprimanded.
He didn’t want to disturb her by calling, but he was worried. He paced around his house hoping to get some answers from Clark, but the bodyguard said he had no idea what they needed Annie back at ICS for.
When he couldn’t concentrate on anything else, Rocco spent the next two hours in his home gym. At some point, Annie’s dress was delivered and Clark gave the delivery man a hard time until Rocco had to interfere and assure him that it was just a dress. Around midday, as he was ending a call, he heard the gate to the front of the house open.
Thank God. He’d been anxious to talk to her about those photos from last night.
He hardly even knew this woman, yet he’d missed her those hours she wasn’t there.
In jeans and a plain white tee, Rocco leaned against the front door as Clark and Annie switched cars and then Annie walked inside. Her head was down and she was tucking some of her hair behind her ear.
Hm? Something was off. He felt it the instant she stepped closer, still looking down at her feet.
“You okay? Glad you’re back. How did—holy shit, Annabelle. What the hell happened?”
“Nothing,” she replied, passing right by him. “Clark said everything’s fine here. Going to shower.”
“Goddammit, Annie.” He followed her up the stairs and took her arm, causing her to wince. Her face, her beautiful face, was black and blue. Her blue eyes were rimmed red, her hair was mangled, and she had a cut on her lip. He didn’t even know where to touch her that wouldn’t cause her pain. “What happened?”
She pulled her arm free. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he roared. An anger he didn’t even know he had in him tore through his body as he guided her to the hallway mirror. Gently cupping her chin he faced her forward. “Nothing? Look at yourself!” He softly ran his thumb against the bruise that was already forming on her cheek.
She looked as surprised as he was when she looked at herself in the mirror. “Who did this to you?” His voice was icy and his eyes flicked over the injury. He was trying to be soft and compassionate, but he also wanted to ram his fist through a wall when she didn’t say anything. Instead, she stepped closer to the mirror.
“Damn,” she whispered to herself, and then she turned and pulled the collar of her shirt a little, and looked at her shoulder. It was raw and bruised and looked infinitely worse than her face.
“Jesus Christ, were you shot?”
“Kind of.” She let go of her collar, righted her clothes and walked around him to her room.
“Kind of? What does that mean?” She continued to ignore him, walking into the bathroom and turning on the water to its hottest setting. Was she just going to walk away? She was absolutely out of her goddamn mind. He followed her inside, sticking out his arm to stop her from closing the door on his face.
“I swear to God, if you don’t start talking . . . I’m going to, going to . . .” He wasn’t sure what to say so he spit out. “I’m going to fire you.”
“Fire me?” She whipped around, her eyes blazing. “I’ve had a shit day. You’re going to fire me? Fuck it. Fire me. I don’t care.” She pulled up her shirt and he saw her flinch in pain. Did she have a broken rib? “But guess what, dude, I’m going to fucking bathe in this magnificent motherfucking tub you own.” She opened the medicine cabinet and then slammed it shut. Then the drawers underneath the sink and then finally the linen closet. “You don’t have Epsom Salt?”
She unzipped her jeans and pulled them down her legs. He shouldn’t look down, this wasn’t something she was doing to seduce him, but fuck, she was stripping in front of him, how could he not look?
“Woman, I swear to God . . .” He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Get your ass in the tub, I’ll be right back.”
She had said she’d gone to ICS for some work and a few hours later she was back with bruises all over her body and a bullet wound of some sort? Rocco was many things, but short tempered wasn’t one of them. With enough poking and prodding he’d blow just like anyone else, but it normally took a hell of a lot of poking to wake the beast.
The beast was up.
Why the hell couldn’t she confide in him?
Why the hell did she wear armor so thick and tight he’d need a pickax just to pierce the surface that was Annabelle Clad?
And why the hell did he want to dig?
She was complicated. Clearly had baggage and obviously didn’t want him around.
Yet he’d never wanted to get to know a person more.
She intrigued him and in those rare instances when she let that armor crack, he could see something in her he wanted. Maybe even needed.
They were the same. Two broken souls. Except he’d been able to fight off his demons and put all his energy in his career. She, on the other hand, pushed her demons down by trying to hide behind a tough, self-assured demeanor. And by pushing away anyone who wanted to help. She needed to fight those demons head-on, acknowledge them, whatever they were, in order to move on. It took years of therapy, but if he could do it, so could she.
He dug around his medicine cabinet, one that was always stocked, found what he was looking for, and jogged back to the bathroom. Still full of rage, he opened the door, not bothering to knock. And, fuck him, the image of her naked he’d conjured up in his fantasies held nothing to the naked woman lying in a bathtub a foot from him. Even though bubbles concealed most of the view, he could still see her toned legs, washboard abs, and the swell of her breasts.
“What the fuck, man? Leave!” she yelled, sending water splashing over the edge of the tub as she tried to cover herself. “Ow!”
“Calm down, crazy, I can’t see anything. You’re hurting.” He didn’t like seeing her in pain. He opened the box of Epsom Salt and poured some into the tub, then poured some tap water into a glass by the sink and handed it to her along with a Percocet.
“Get out,” she hissed.
“No.” He shoved the glass closer. “Take this or I’m driving you to the hospital.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “I’m not going to the hospital. A few bruises? I’ve had worse.”
No doubt.
“I don’t care. You’re hurt. Take this.”
“What is it? And can you please turn around?”
“Calm down, I can’t see anything with all those fucking bubbles.”
“I’m trying to relax.”
“You don’t look relaxed.”
“Of course not! I’m naked and you’re just standing there.”
He rolled his eyes and kneeled next to the tub. “I can’t see anything. Really.” It was true. A little bit of delicious skin but nothing that a bikini wouldn’t expose. She moved some of the bubbles around and seemed to give up the fight. He sat on the floor, placing the glass on the sink. “So what happened?”
With a raised eyebrow, she eyed his comfortable position on the floor but
apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the fight, she laid her head back and closed her eyes. “I went to ICS. We have a simulation room. Joey doesn’t think I can handle this job, so I did the course, which I helped develop, by the way. But he added two real people, which I wasn’t expecting. Serves me right for not being on my toes.”
“You’re telling me that your brother did this to you?”
“He didn’t do this to me. I did this by slacking on my tactical skills.”
“That’s bullshit.”
She shrugged and reached for the soap and the sponge. “And he saw the photos. Did you? There are photos of us kissing. He wasn’t happy. I’m surprised he didn’t make more of a big deal about it. I told him it was part of the pretend girlfriend thing.”
“Then he made you go through a course that got you hurt. He didn’t make it more of a big deal? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. Don’t care.” When he heard her whimper as she tried to lather herself, he took the soap from her hand. “Been meaning to tell you, I don’t like bars of soap. I mean, who uses a bar of soap anymore? You need body wash.” She was speaking softer now and rambling, as if the exhaustion was setting in.
“Men do.”
“I’m sure they use liquid body wash too.”
“I’m sure they do, but not this man right here.” He liked that she smelled like him. How caveman was that? The first time he’d noticed was the second day she’d been there and he walked past her in the kitchen. It was such an odd and startling reaction.
He started lathering her arm and worked down to the tips of her fingers. Then the other one. “Move up a little, Tiger. Need to get your back.”
Lazily, she did what he asked. “This isn’t professional of me,” she argued halfheartedly.
“Stop thinking.”
He reached behind her and cleaned her back and shoulders, paying special attention to the small shallow gash where the rubber bullet had grazed her. She hissed when he touched it, but didn’t push away. “Okay, lay back down the way you were.”
Last First Kiss Page 11
