Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“How are you a red flag?” he asked.
I inhaled deeply and rubbed a sore spot on my shoulder. “I stop giving a fuck. I don’t care enough to remember dates and anniversaries. I don’t care enough to do the right thing and end the relationship.”
“So, you’re a dick.”
I automatically tilted my head and looked over at him, and I kinda froze. I clenched my jaw as I was assaulted by the sight of him. Jesus fucking Christ. The water rushed down his body, causing every defined muscle to gleam in the low light from the laundry section across the room. Thank fuck he had his eyes closed, because I wasn’t sure I could look away yet.
“Yeah,” I responded absently. “I’m definitely not the good guy.”
Goddammit, he was stunning.
Part of me must’ve had the teenage version of him stuck in my brain. Six years ago, he’d been a skinny little thing, and despite having watched him work out for the last two months, it wasn’t until now that I saw all of him—and how he’d developed. He was built like a runner, with sleek muscles. Still had some softness left, and I liked that. His ass—I couldn’t even describe how perfect it was. Bitable, fuckable, lickable. Two handfuls. With ass dimples to go with it.
I swallowed and wrenched my stare away. Right on time too, because I saw him turning toward me. Funnily enough, just his upper body. He kept his lower part hidden.
“Are you only at Hillcroft for the money?” he asked.
I flicked him a brief glance and knitted my brows. “No…?”
“Then why are you here?”
Where was he going with this?
I shrugged. “It gives me purpose.”
“A plumber has a purpose too.”
I instinctively rolled my eyes. “Don’t even try, pup.” I knew what he was doing. He wanted to paint me as a good guy for what I did for a living. “I’m not gonna say it doesn’t feel good to break up a trafficking ring or bring home a little girl who’s been abducted to get married to someone forty years older than her—it absolutely does. But I don’t choose my assignments. Despite Hillcroft’s built-in moral compass, we protect shitbags from time to time too.”
My current assignment was the best example. Quinlan and his crew would never accept a client whom they deemed the bad guy in whatever situation or dispute. In this case, the man with oil money and a dead son. He wanted to get the killer. No problem. But in his spare time, that man wasn’t someone you wanted to bring home to meet the family. And I explained it to Leighton. I told him bluntly that we dealt with fuckers from that part of the world all the time, where women couldn’t take freedom or basic rights for granted, where slavery was widely accepted, and where speaking your mind could get you beheaded.
“But he’s paying us millions of dollars to get his son’s killer,” I finished.
Leighton turned off the water and chewed on his lip. “We protect the bad guys in our country sometimes too. Like, in the service.”
We sure did.
He glanced at me. “So, how are you any different from a soldier?”
I shut off the water too. “Not all soldiers are the same. You know that.” Hell, if you hadn’t stumbled upon cheaters, liars, and criminals in the Army, you hadn’t served.
For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to shield himself now. He walked over to where his towel was, and I did my best not to get stuck on seeing his dick. And yeah, I was screwed. I could no longer deny that I wanted to do all kinds of fucked-up things with that guy.
Go me. I wanted a recruit. Motherfucker.
“Either way, I don’t think you’re a bad guy,” he said, wrapping the towel around his hips.
I suppressed a sigh and aimed for my towel too. Did Leighton sneak a peek? Yes, he did. He tried to be subtle about it.
I smiled and knew exactly how to shoot myself in the foot. Rather than wrapping the towel around myself, I started by dragging it over my head, my shoulders, down my body…and here came the shot that would end it all, which was good for his sake.
“Nassim wasn’t extradited,” I said. “I threw him into an incinerator. He was alive when that happened. Sedated but alive.”
Leighton blinked and stared at me.
I stared right back and could practically hear Shira, Coach, and Quinlan cursing me out for going over the line. I didn’t care. My gut instinct told me I could be honest with Leighton. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t deny it if the kid chose to use it against me. Granted, he’d take a step back from me now, which was half the point, but I didn’t believe he’d freak out. The other half of the point—let’s call it preparation for the day he had clearance to know such things. More than that, he might have to do something like that himself.