Page 20 of Lethal Beauty

“What are you going to live off of for the next few days?”

“Mainly water, my fat stores, and a piss-poor attitude,” I replied without missing a beat. The expression of horror on his face rivaled that of my brothers’ when I had announced at Sunday dinner a few years ago that I was debating on going vegetarian. I had no such intention, but the family discussion had been a fun one until Gia had ruined it by giggling, the only one to realize there was no way in hell her aunt could survive without burgers, ribs, and briskets. “I’m warning you now. I’m not responsible for my actions if you come within ten feet of me with a cup of coffee upwind of my position.”

He smiled at that. “No coffee, got it. I brought energy drinks, so I should be safe from at least a five-foot distance … They don’t smell as good as a cup of joe.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do you know how many chemicals are in those things? It’s liver disease in a can.” I wasn’t sure about any of that, but they sure all tasted like shit to me. Why mess with caffeine in its most perfect form—coffee? Hell, if I could get away with it, I took it as black sludge that replaced my blood with brown tar. As far as I was concerned, it was a sacrilege to add cream and sugar.

Brody shrugged, clearly not concerned about his health. “Caffeine is caffeine.”

I gasped in outrage that was not altogether faked. “You take that back!”

He raised an eyebrow. “If I promise to sneak you a cup in the morning, will you forgive me?”

“Can’t,” I said mournfully. “They’ll know. They always know. I even snuck a cup before I brushed my teeth one day and got reamed out by the seamstress, set director, and photographer who claimed I had coffee stains that he would have to air-brush out.”

Wincing, he gave me a pitying look. “My sympathies. I promise to get you a cup as soon as they call the shoot done with, okay?”

I started, realizing that during our exchange, we’d leaned closer to each other. I could feel his body heat, even though there was still a polite distance between us. God, the man was a furnace. I stared into his mossy green eyes, getting distracted as I gazed into them. That time it was him who pulled back, and I cursed internally, trying to control the flush that wanted to rise from my neck to my face. I’d done it again, relaxing in his company without intending to. Damn it. I needed to get a grip on my emotions. Clearly, it had been too long since I’d had sex, and it was messing with my body chemistry. It was the only reason I could think of for having issues when it came to Brody. Or maybe I was just lonely? The thought made me frown. Was I lonely? I never lacked companionship when I wanted it, though I didn’t fuck nearly as much as everyone thought I did. Matteo was a constant presence in my life, and my trust in him was absolute, but I didn’t know if I would call him a friend … more of a partner that I knew had my back no matter what—just like I had his. I loved my family, but they’d stopped looking for the real me years ago. Sensing my change in mood, Brody excused himself to go back to the kitchen as I turned to the bathroom for the shower that called my name.

Stepping into the claw-foot tub, I didn’t even wait for the water to warm before sticking my head under the cold spray, needing the jolt. I sputtered but forced my body to stay under the needle-like barrage. I felt exhausted, mentally dragging at the thought of having to go to the shoot tomorrow. For the first time, I let myself look at my life, really look at it. I hated being a model with a passion as strong as my love for my duty to my country. And while I delighted in flying under the radar—of no one knowing what I was capable of and what I did—I equally hated that my secret had placed such a huge wedge between the rest of my family and me. I wasn’t sure when my life had turned into such a tale of contraries, but they warred within me in equal and opposite amounts. Did I even like myself, the person I was becoming? Because, other than a handful of times here and there, the person I was in the past was being replaced with a fake. Was fake even the right word anymore if I was that person way more than I was the true me?

I toweled off, more than ready to put the day behind me. Between Keene’s startling apology that morning and the revelation that I might just be becoming someone other than myself, I was done overthinking. I threw my pajamas on and padded to the kitchen, where Brody had placed carrot sticks, celery, and cucumber slices on a plate for me. He was sitting on a barstool, decimating what looked to be some kind of sausage in a delectable smelling sauce. He pointed to a small salad that had come up with his meal. “I ordered ranch on the side, in case you wanted to snag it for your,” he motioned to my plate, “meal.”

I could have kissed him because at least I wouldn’t have to completely suffer that night. “Thank you,” I said, not able to hide my appreciation as I practically dived for the small container. I stayed silent, not wanting to get into anything else, still focused on my thoughts. Brody kept his scrutiny on his plate, barely looking my way.

My attention turned to him as he rose and grabbed two bottles of still water from the fridge, setting one in front of me before downing his without even sitting back down. I tried to tear my eyes away from his profile as he swallowed the contents of the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, head leaned back, but I found it impossible. His jaw had more than a hint of stubble, though he’d been clean-shaven that morning. It practically begged me to reach out and feel the rasp on my fingers. Slamming a door on my thoughts, I looked back at my vegetables, poking at the celery on my plate. I’d kill for some peanut butter, but the fat content wouldn’t allow me to even think about it, especially considering I’d already splurged on the cup of dressing Brody had so thoughtfully gotten for me. “So,” I tried to distract myself from the vegetable that was really nothing but string and water, “if you know Keene, why don’t you work for A.T.?”

He tilted his head. “Does everyone your brother know work for him?”

“Most of the good ones do.” I shrugged. “And if you weren’t good, he wouldn’t have planted you into Valencia’s security picks.”

He smiled, not commenting on what we both knew, but he didn’t confirm my statement. “I promised myself I would never work for someone else ever again. A contract deal here or there is fine, but I won’t put myself in the same position the military did.”

“What happened?” I knew I shouldn’t care, but I was curious.

His eyes turned turbulent. “Let’s just say I work well with others, but when you work for the government, we’re all just cogs in a wheel. I have a problem trusting higher-ups when they don’t see people as anything other than pawns in a game of chess. My unit was sent into a situation we never should have been in because some paper pusher wanted to make a statement in retaliation for another country’s stupid move. In the end, I was injured, and many men in my unit didn’t make it because two countries were having a pissing match over something on a completely different continent that didn’t matter whatsoever to the ones who actually have a claim to it.”

I knew he couldn’t give me much more than that—classified information and all—but I knew what he was talking about. Politics and politicians were the reason I worked black ops. Even the CIA and other alphabet soup agencies had secondary agendas when it came to assignments, and I wanted no part in them. Of course, my organization wouldn’t be able to acknowledge me if something went wrong, but the likelihood of other government agencies doing that either was slim to none, so I didn’t let it bother me. I simply killed the bad guy, stopped the awful shit they were doing, and went home. I looked down at my plate, where I was still playing with the celery and trying to figure out if I would suffer through eating them to be polite since Brody had gone through the trouble of putting them on my plate, when my phone rang.

I hopped up from my seat, grateful for the interruption. Thank goodness Matteo seemed to have a sixth sense sometimes. Though I was sure he wouldn’t rate saving me from a plate full of celery as highly as the time he notified me of a change in guard, which would have resulted in me getting caught at the villa of a heroin dealer in Mexico. “Hi, Matteo. What are you doing up? Isn’t it the middle of the night back home?”

“Couldn’t sleep, Belle. I missed you too much.” He played his part to perfection, sounding for all the world like a close friend or lover. “How is Germany?”

I gave him a fake laugh. “I have seen little of it yet. We traveled most of the day. I actually just finished dinner.” Such as it was. “Anything exciting going on there?”

“Yes, actually.” Matteo sounded amused. “Your brother called me today.”

“What!” My tone put Brody on alert, but I waved him off, mouthing an apology as I pointed at the phone. He grunted and motioned to my plate in question. Because there was no way in hell I wouldn’t take advantage of the moment, I nodded, signaling I was done. I would rather starve than eat celery and starve anyway, considering I couldn’t eat a fraction of the calories my body practically begged for. “Who called you?”

“Gideon.” Matteo’s laughter drifted across the line. “You’ll never guess why.”

I snarled. “If they’re trying to drag you into—”

He didn’t let me finish, knowing I would assume they were trying to pull Matteo closer into their fold. They’d been attempting to spend some time with Matteo for years. Of course, it was under the pretense of any friend of mine being a friend of theirs, but it was really just an attempt to get in cozy with him so that they could threaten him to stay away from their little sister. “He called to ask if I would take Gia on as a student in my beginning karate class.”

I sat on the couch, leaning back as I took that in, completely stunned. Gideon had been against Gia doing anything active since she was a child. She was born prematurely and had so many health problems as a baby that the doctors weren’t sure she’d survive at first. After her last heart surgery—she was four by then—they’d given her a clean bill of health and declared her to be as fit as any girl her age, but Gideon couldn’t get past the worry that they’d missed something. In the grand scheme of things, karate wasn’t much more physical than her tumbling class, but in Gideon’s mind, they were worlds apart.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, blowing a breath out. “We got a lucky break there with him calling you.” Because Gia wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that Matteo and I had been teaching her since she was six.

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