Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(40)

He ambled toward the door.

So that’s what he’d done with the DOS prompts. Killed the mic and camera long enough to share his advice. And he’d put her office right next door to Knox. Close to his brother.

“Beckett?” she said before he disappeared into the hallway.

Pausing with one hand on the jamb, he looked back at her and lifted both eyebrows. So innocent looking on the surface, but his eyes practically danced with mirth.

He was trying to help her. And not just on a professional level either. How she knew it she wasn’t sure, but the thought was there, drifting through her soft as windswept cotton. “Thank you.”

The stare he returned was intense, a demand and a plea all rolled up into one. He stepped back into the hallway’s shadows and dropped his voice low enough the camera mounted in the far corner would struggle to pick up his response. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Don’t give up.”

And then he was gone.





Chapter Fifteen

Darya hustled into her blessedly cool apartment, juggling her duffel bag full of workout clothes, her laptop bag and purse as she quickly shut the door against the brutal afternoon heat. She leaned against the door and huffed out a tired breath. The persistent beep beep beep of her freshly installed security system matched the still pounding rhythm of her heart. Thirty minutes it had taken her to drive home from Knox and Beckett’s office and she still hadn’t recovered from Beckett’s merciless workout routine. He’d said continuing her self-defense classes was a job perk, but her sore arms and ass said otherwise.

She pushed off the door with an ugly oomph and punched in her alarm code. Her conversations with Knox over the last week had been limited at best, only an hour here and there to go over her lessons and endure gruesome code reviews, though there had been one unguarded moment where he’d ranted for the better part of thirty minutes about how her landlords were “certified fucking idiots.” Hence, the reason she had only the most basic of systems instead of something that could control a third-world country. A fact that Knox was clearly not pleased about.

Her bags sat like anvils around her feet and sweat trickled down her spine. Never in her life did she think she’d ever experience triple digit heat, but as if Mother Nature had decided to celebrate the arrival of August, her thermostat had firmly shown 101. Truly, summer in Texas was hell on Earth.

She scooped up her bags, trudged past her makeshift office to unload her laptop and purse, then tossed her duffel into her bedroom on her way to the bathroom. Her haggard reflection stared back at her, hair dampened around her face with chunks that had escaped her long braid plastered to the back of her neck.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

At least once a day, Beckett had found a way to reiterate the message. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with a pointed look.

She wasn’t so sure the detached and dedicated worker bee approach was working, though. Every day she strode into the office never knowing which Knox she’d bump into—the one who seemed frustrated just to be in the same room with her, or the one who looked like he was contemplating fucking her against the nearest wall.

Her vote was definitely for the latter. Time and distance hadn’t helped her forget that night or the morning after in the least. If anything, the memory had stroked her need twice as high and left her irritable and edgy. The only consolation was that he seemed to be in as bad of shape as her. Or worse. He covered it well, but his eyes didn’t seem nearly as sharp, and she’d busted him countless times either raking his hands through his hair or gouging his thumbs against his eyes.

Sighing, she peeled off her tank top, ditched her yoga pants and sports bra and cranked the tub faucet to full blast. If nothing else was meant to happen between them she’d live. And she’d do it knowing she’d not only maintained her professionalism, but survived learning from the best.

Because Knox Torren was absolutely the best at what he did. No doubt about it.

A ping sounded from the bedroom, the sound so faint it was nearly drowned out by the rush of water.

She poked her head out of the bathroom, checked to make sure the living room blinds were fully closed and scampered to her hastily discarded purse. Rummaging past her sunglasses and cosmetic case, her fingers closed around her phone near the bottom.

The green text bubble flashed Knox’s name and one line of text a second before the automatic print reader unlocked the device and sent her to the main app screen. Hands shaking from workout fatigue and an onslaught of fresh adrenaline, she flipped to her texts and nearly dropped the phone when the message came into focus.

Knox: Have you eaten?

Finally.

Her arms trembled, her palms so slick she had to grip the device with both hands to keep it steady.

Darya: No.

Simple and straightforward. Nothing he could read into one way or another and lobbed things right back into his court.

The answer came faster than she expected.

Knox: Are you hungry?

She smiled to herself, her heart picking up steam as she wandered back to the bathroom.

Darya: I thought we’d established I’m always hungry.

She leaned one hip against the vanity and bit her lip, the rush of the water splashing ferociously against the old porcelain tub as tumultuous as the blood coursing through her veins.

Knox: Can you cook?

Darya: I’m not a gourmet but I can hold my own.