The Runner's Daughter

by Jessica McCrory

  “Thanks.” She pulled from the water bottle Mikel had brought in.

  “Feeling better?” he asked before taking a drink from his.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know a panic attack when I see one. I’m cool if you don’t want to talk about it, but I just wanted to make sure you felt better before we call it quits.”

  She nodded. “I do, thanks.”

  “Anytime, Jemma.” He smiled, and she caught herself staring at him for a moment before she got to her feet.

  “Interested in sparring again?”

  Caid let out a laugh. “You trying to kill me?”

  She smiled. “I didn’t mean today. Tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Sure, same time?”

  “Sounds good.” She grabbed her bag from the corner and headed out into the main part of the gym. She was surprised to see the floor was empty and it was dark outside.

  “Feeling better?” Mikel asked as she handed Jemma a towel.

  Jemma nodded. “What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “Yep, you two have been going at it for the last four hours.”

  Caid came out behind her and waved to Mikel. “See ya tomorrow, Jemma,” he said and walked out the door.

  “He’s a hottie,” Mikel noted, and Jemma let out a laugh.

  “What?”

  “Just saying. I wouldn’t mind letting him throw me around a bit.”

  “You’re married!”

  “And I love my husband. I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have. I’m just saying, you know, for sparring purposes.”

  Jemma laughed again and handed the towel back to Mikel. Mikel’s eyes narrowed on her face. “What?” Jemma asked self-consciously.

  “You’re okay now?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Mikel.”

  Jemma stepped outside and felt the darkness close in on her slightly. She took a series of deep breaths, pulled the hood of her sweater up over her head, and walked quickly back to her apartment.

  Once inside, she pulled a salad out and began eating while standing up in her kitchen. The small studio apartment was perfect for her. She could see every angle of it from this spot, including right into her bathroom. She had to make sure she wouldn’t be caught unaware if someone did, in fact, come into her space. They were hunting her. It was only a matter of time before they found the trail, even if she had buried it. She knew in her heart that while it may not be today, or tomorrow, one day they were going to come for her. Only this time she would be ready.

  2

  Caid dropped his bag on the floor the second he stepped foot into his apartment and immediately went to get an ice pack out of the freezer. That woman had beaten him hard, and while he wasn’t ashamed to admit it to her, he still preferred not to have any evidence of it when it came time to go into the office tomorrow. Last thing he needed was having to explain why he was sporting bruises.

  “That’s the stuff,” he said as he placed the pack on his side. He wondered what had caused her to get so wound up. His sister had suffered from panic attacks, still did sometimes, so he knew how to recognize them and knew how out of control they could get if you didn’t find a way to channel it.

  His sister’s go-to was knitting, and apparently Jemma’s was kicking the shit out of something. Probably a control thing, he thought to himself. Damn if a part of him -- a big part -- hadn’t enjoyed it. She was something, wasn’t she? Powerful, driven, and sexy as hell. He felt an attraction toward her unlike anything he had felt for anyone else. Not even his ex-fiancé, Brittany.

  He groaned. That was a topic he had no intention of spending any more time thinking about. She had cheated, he had left, that was the end of it.

  His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  “King,” he answered without checking the ID.

  “Don’t tell me you were sleeping.”

  Caid closed his eyes. So much for not thinking of Brittany. It was a little hard to avoid when his ex-partner, her current husband, called constantly.

  “What do you want, Jameson?”

  “I need copies of the files you have on The Runner.”

  “Why?” Caid asked, fearing he already knew the answer. Surely Pax didn’t hate him that much.

  “Boss put me on it with you, and I want to look through them.”

  “I’ll be meeting with her first.”

  “Come on, King, don’t do that. We were friends once.”

  Before you started fucking my fiancé. “I don’t need you on my team. I’ve got it under control.”

  “Not from what I hear. Listen, don’t make a big fuss about this. Let’s just put the past behind us so we can get this guy, huh? Isn’t that what really matters?”

  “Come on, baby, come back to bed,” the female voice that had become the bane of Caid’s existence sounded on the line.

  “Not happening,” Caid said hanging up. “Fuck!” he yelled and tossed the ice pack. Now he felt like he needed to hit something. He dialed Pax’s number. She was damn well going to explain herself.

  “Mind telling me why you put Jameson on my case?” he asked without preamble.

  “Is this how you greet your boss now?” Her sarcastic tone would have normally had him backing off, but not this time.

  “Hi, how are you? Lovely night, isn’t it?” he responded, irritated. “Now tell me why the hell you would partner me with the man who ruined my life.”

  “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? That ex-fiancé of yours was the one who spread her legs for him.”

  Anyone else, and Caid would have been furious. But one of the reasons he respected Melanie Pax was that she told it like it was. There was no bullshit as far as she was concerned.

  “Yeah, whatever, I’m still not working with him.”

  “I’m sorry, did I wake up in some twilight zone? You will work with him because I ordered you to.”

  “He isn’t half the agent I am. It’s the whole fucking reason he had the time to bang my fiancé when I wasn’t around. You put him on this case, and you might as well pull me off it.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He heard the threat in her voice, but stood his ground. He refused to be forced to work side by side with that fucking douchebag. It was bad enough he still had to share the same damn building and see him and Brittany coming in and out of it like they were just fucking perfect. The dick had even invited him to their fucking wedding. Because who doesn’t want to watch the woman you were supposed to marry wed someone else?

  “Then you might as well fire me.”

  Pax sighed into the phone. “Fine. You can report any changes to me, and I’ll pass them down to him. You can both work the case separately. Fair?”

  Caid closed his eyes. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but he knew enough to know Pax wouldn’t compromise any further. And if he didn’t have to talk to Jameson, then he supposed he could call this one a win.

  “Fine,” he said and hung up the phone. “Well, this has turned into a lovely evening, hasn’t it?” He poured himself two fingers of whiskey, drank it down easily, and then headed for the shower to wash the ass-kicking of the day off him.

  Caid lay naked on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun above him. The cool breeze it provided, coupled with the chill in the open air, had small goose bumps forming on his skin. But he had no intention of getting up and out of bed. He wondered if Jemma was asleep right now, or if her fears had caught up with her before she was able to close her eyes. He hoped not, hoped she was so worn out from their sparring session she actually got some sleep.

  He had noticed the bags under her eyes, the slight redness in them, and guessed she probably didn’t get much uninterrupted shut eye. Damn, she was gorgeous though. Her blonde hair he imagined would feel like silk in his fingers. The honey brown color of her eyes as they bore into his. Even the
pain in the depths of them couldn’t dull the light that managed to sneak out once her panic had been under control.

  Caid realized he was thinking about her while he was naked, and decided it was probably best to get up. He needed to pop a few ibuprofens to help with the throbbing in his side. He grabbed some shorts off the dresser, but stopped when he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.

  “Damn,” he muttered as he inspected the bruise on his side. She had really done a number on him. What did it mean that he was already looking forward to having her kick the crap out of him again?

  He laughed to himself and pulled on the shorts, then walked around turning off each light. If there was even the tiniest hint of light, he would find himself tossing all night. He didn’t even have an alarm clock because of it.

  He flipped his cell phone alarm and winced when he saw the time. Damn, it was already twelve-thirty. He was only going to get about five hours of sleep tonight. With Jameson being put on his case, Caid was going to have a long damn day. He closed his eyes and thought of a beautiful blonde as he drifted to sleep.

  Jemma slipped her .45 into her nightstand and crawled underneath her white duvet. Her hair, still wet from her shower, dripped down onto her shirt as she laid down. Every light in her apartment was blazing, just as it was every single night since she had been nine. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the nightmares that plagued her each night. Hopefully, she could get at least four hours of sleep in before her day started.

  She had stolen enough money from her dear ol’ dad to set her up for life. She had paid cash for this apartment, didn’t need a car, and other than her electricity, her bills stayed low since she was the only one ever in her space.

  Thunder sounded outside, and she jumped. Chill, Jemma, it’s just the storm. She felt her heart begin to race, so she began her countdown. Whenever she couldn’t get to the gym, she would start at a hundred and count backwards. Usually, if it wasn’t a bad attack, she could gain control by the end. Other times, she had to get out of bed and run around her small apartment until she was exhausted enough to get some sleep. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, she started.

  Another clap of thunder, and she started counting faster. Ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four, ninety-three. Her heart rate began to slow as she got down into the eighties, so she continued until she reached zero.

  She was finally able to close her eyes, but each time the thunder sounded, she winced. She started again. One hundred, ninety-nine…

  3

  That morning, Jemma sat on her fire escape and watched as the sun rose over the horizon. She took a sip from her steaming mug and inhaled deeply as the scent of coffee sank into her lungs. She had actually managed to get quite a few hours of sleep last night, and had only woken up once to check the apartment. This was new for her, since she typically was up four or five times to make sure she was still alone. She figured it was probably due to the extra training session with Caid.

  Caid. Just his name brought her relief, which was incredibly strange in itself. She hadn’t found comfort in another person in years, but after one sparring session, she found herself relaxing slightly whenever she thought of him.

  She had been sparring with Mikel for three years now, and she couldn’t say she felt that way about her. Jemma couldn’t decide if her new friend was a good or bad thing. Maybe she should look for another gym and give it a rest for a while. She couldn’t afford anything that would break her focus, and somehow she knew Caid was going to be a massive distraction.

  A horn sounded below, and she looked down to see people fighting over a cab. She would never understand why certain people got so angry over the most ridiculous things. It’s a damn cab, there will always be another one. Not worth ruining yours or someone else’s day over. Not when there were much worse things out there.

  Jemma closed her eyes as she took another sip. Not going there, Jemma. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. No sense in dwelling on the past; she only needed to focus on making sure she had a future. If he found her, she definitely wouldn’t. There was no way he would let her live after what she had done.

  A knock sounded at her door, and she straightened as she put a hand to her back to feel the .45 tucked securely into her waistband. She made her way inside and set her cup on the counter before going to the door and looking through the peep hole.

  Maria’s irritated face filled the small circle, and Jemma visibly winced. She had known this was coming. She opened the door, leaving the security chain locked, and offered her best I’m sorry smile.

  “What happened last night?” Maria pouted.

  “I’m sorry. I ended up falling asleep early,” she lied.

  “You didn’t hear me banging on the door?”

  “Ear buds,” Jemma said smoothly.

  Maria studied her face for a moment and then nodded. “All right. Well, how about tonight?”

  “Can’t, I have to work.”

  “What do you do that you can’t take off on a Saturday?”

  “Lots of things.” Jemma smiled. “Rain check?”

  Maria looked irritated but nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” She grinned, and Jemma shut the door.

  She supposed she had better start thinking of a way to get out of it next time. Maybe she could be sick, or have to go out of town. She washed her mug, put it away, and took a seat on the couch. Reading was the only luxury she allowed herself. She didn’t have a TV, didn’t want to watch the horrible things reported on the news these days, and with books, she could choose which story she wanted to escape into.

  Should she pick fantasy? Where she could disappear into another world where her problems never existed? Or suspense, where someone else is the one being chased for a change? Or maybe she’d rather read some sweet, contemporary love story, where the biggest problem is a woman who isn’t ready to give in to her feelings just yet? Jemma chose the latter and settled on to the couch, her .45 now sitting safely next to her.

  Caid made his way through the busy city with a smile on his face. The craziness of it all wasn’t lost on him. He just enjoyed the hustle of those who weren’t acting like crazed animals who had just escaped from a zoo. He reached his favorite coffee shop and disappeared inside, embracing the warmth and familiar scents.

  “Morning, Caid!” Jasmine, the barista, greeted him. “Your usual?”

  “Yes, please. Thanks, Jazzie,” he said with a wink, and she flushed.

  “Stop being such a flirt.”

  Caid shut his eyes and willed the owner of the voice to disappear. What the fuck were the odds? he wondered. He made a mental note to look it up because he was getting damn tired of running into his ex.

  “Mind your own business, Brittany.”

  “That’s a rude way to greet someone.”

  “I only greet you and your husband that way.” He refused to look at her, just crossed his arms and watched as Jasmine filled a cup with something that now lacked one thing he really needed -- alcohol.

  “Can’t we just move on from this? Henry only wanted to work with you again so--”

  “Wait a minute.” Caid turned and put his hand up to stop her. “What, are you fighting his battles for him now? That’s just fucking golden.” He laughed.

  “Caid, your coffee.” Jasmine handed him his cup. He handed her a five dollar bill and then turned to leave.

  “Just think about it!” Brittany called after him, and it took everything he had not to flip her the bird.

  The fucking nerve of these two would never cease to amaze him. So now not only did he have to see Jameson at work, he was going to have to deal with Brittany every morning when he came to get his fucking coffee.

  He knew her well enough to know that this was not going to be the only time he “ran into” her here. Dammit, he liked Jasmine too. She was sweet and made a damn good cup of coffee. Looks like he would be making his own from now on.

  As if it picked up on his mood
, some clouds blocked the sun, and he walked the rest of the way to his office under the overcast.

  “Morning, King,” Pax greeted him when she came out of her office.

  Melanie Pax was a force to be reckoned with. She was brought on when the last director was discovered to have had ties with Clayton Matthews, the head of a nasty group based in Seattle. They had arrested the bastard, and he would now be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

  Unfortunately for the FBI, it had resulted in some bad press due to the amount of people on Matthews’ payroll. A dozen agents, including the director himself, had lost their jobs and gone to prison for various sentences.

  Shit, the corruption was so bad that Zach Murphy, the lead detective on the case, had reached out to him in New York, all the way from Seattle. Caid made a mental note to give Zach a call and see how things were going on the other side of the country. It had been just over a week since he’d left to come back home.

  Caid responded to Pax’s greeting with a wave, and continued down the hall to his office. He had no patience to listen to her excuses this morning, or the ass-chewing he imagined was coming from hanging up on her last night.

  He sat down at his computer and was just beginning to check e-mails when his phone rang.

  “King.”

  “We got him.”

  Caid straightened in his seat. “Got who?”

  “The Runner, or at least one of his facilities.”

  “Send me the address and notify the team. I’m on my way.” Caid grabbed his vest and headed out the door.

  “You heard?” Pax asked as he pressed the elevator button.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hold up I’m riding with you!” Jameson called and ran for the elevator.

  “Like hell you are,” Caid said angrily and stepped into the elevator when the doors opened.

  “Play nice,” Pax instructed.

  “Fine, but he can take his own fucking car.”

  “So Britt said she ran into you this morning,” Jameson said as soon as the elevator started moving. Caid pinched the bridge of his nose. When was he going to wake up from this fucking nightmare?