Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(23)

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Troy

Tears Tearing Me Apart

My first girlfriend didn't cry. She hated tears and punched her little sister whenever she cried. I knew she was crazy when I saw her brutalize her younger sibling. Dumping her the next day, I also ratted her out to her Navy father. Even as a teenager, I was certain my way was never wrong.

Minka only cried once during the entire time I've known her. After knee surgery, she worried she'd never walk again. A groggy Minka sobbed about losing the ability to kick ass. Of course, she healed up and kicked plenty of asses afterward. That day, though, she wept like a baby, and I felt awkward as hell.

I feel the same way when Darla sobs feet away from me. Should I leave her alone? Should I hold her? Should I call for help? Should I give her the damn pill that'll numb her to all the pain she's feeling?

I leave her to cry, but her sobs tear me apart. She's miserable. Minutes earlier, I played the big man keeping her from doing what she wanted. Am I any better than Locke?

Fuck yeah, I am better. I still feel like a bastard while she cries herself out. Staring hard at the TV, I wonder where she's going after the tears end. She disappears into the hall bathroom and then later walks to her bedroom. I assume Darla will remain hidden away for a few hours. Maybe she'll even take the pill.

To my surprise, she returns to the living room and sits back down on the floor with her puzzle. Her face is dry and only a bit pink around the eyes. I also notice her hair is shiny.

"What did you do with your hair?" I ask like a dope.

"Brushed it."

Darla and I stare at each other. She's pretending to be casual, but I can't help assuming she brushed it for me. Without thinking, I run my hand through my hair. If she's going to look pretty for me, I might as well do the same for her.

Even when Darla lowers her gaze to the puzzle, I sense she's focused on me. I don't even pretend I'm not focused on her. I was so certain she'd be gone from my sight for the rest of the day that I can't look away.

Darla glances at the TV. "If the guy from today is dead, does that mean you can't track down Locke?"

"Once the cops run his fingerprints, we'll get the info too. He might not be in the system, but we'll get his picture and see about running down his ID that way. It's impossible to remain invisible anymore."

"Does that mean people can find you?"

"Of course. I hid well, but there are cameras everywhere."

"Do you worry?"

"No. What's the point? I was careful when I was working, and I'm careful now. I'm not going to piss myself over a million maybes."

"Tough guy," she whispers, grinning behind her hair.

Smiling at her, I move from the chair to the couch. Darla notices my proximity and grins a bit more. A few minutes pass while I watch Darla fumbling with her puzzle pieces. She wants to look at me but refuses to give into the urge.

I lean forward and stare harder at her. Darla ignores me for another minute before finally laughing. I laugh too.

"I like your hair," I say, tapping the table.

"Stop staring at me."

"No."

Darla narrows her eyes. "Don't you work for me?"

"Yes. I guess you could fire me."

Her smile grows. "What if I did?"

"Oh, I'd still find a way to stare. You have all these windows, and I own a lot of rifles with scopes. I could get comfy on a nearby building and watch you with your puzzles."

Darla's smile fades as she looks at the windows. "Can someone be watching us now?"

"No. We set up security cameras on those buildings."

"Is that legal?"

"Who cares?"

"So wouldn't the rest of the team know you were on the building watching me after I fired you?" she asks, her gaze focused on me now.

"Yes, but I think they'd understand. I'm very popular with the crew."

Darla shakes her head and works on her puzzle again. I return to watching her. When she pushes up her sleeves, I notice before she does. I'd never thought a woman's forearms could be so damn sexy, but I take in the sight of her pale flesh. My fingers caress the seam of my jeans the way I wish I could touch her skin. I notice a small scar on the top of her hand and wonder if Locke caused it. The thin line looks old enough to be a childhood injury, though.

Darla realizes her forearms are uncovered. I see uncertainty pass across her face. Mentally, I count the seconds until she covers herself.

Her gaze meets mine, and I realize she's trying to figure out if I've noticed.

"How could I not notice?" I ask, smirking. "You are such a vixen with those bare forearms."

Darla reaches for one sleeve, hesitates, and then leaves it alone. I don't need to know the details of her time with Locke to understand she's showing courage by revealing even an inch of her body to me. I watch her while she ignores me. Exhausted from her tears, Darla only wants to focus on the puzzle. I'll give her space... for now.





19


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Darla

Reclaiming What Was Stolen

Locke tore away all my confidence. He stole me for my beauty and then made me feel ugly. My every flaw remarked on, I hated myself as much as I hated him. Locke especially obsessed over the scar on my hand.