Page 10 of Being Bold (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP) Security #1)

Bo

While the soup heated up, Bo set Selene’s clothes to refresh since he’d left them in the dryer all day and were probably wrinkled as fuck.

His sweats drowned her, but he remembered what the curves underneath looked like.

He’d been trying not to think about them.

The baggy clothing didn’t stop him, though.

Not that he particularly wanted her out of his clothes.

Something about seeing her in them filled him with a sense of possession . . . like she was his .

But she’s not.

And he didn’t deserve her anyway.

With that fact cooling his blood, he glanced at her frustrated posture, slumped forward with her head in her hands. He leaned back against the cabinet by the stove and said, “I’m not the police, but I can help you. I work for a private security firm. Tactical Operations & Protection?”

He watched her for any sign of recognition, but she just gazed at him with those luminescent eyes.

Luminescent?

What the actual fuck? What was happening to him? He didn’t use words like ‘luminescent.’ Maybe he’d finally snapped, and this was all some elaborate hallucination.

“Never heard of it. What, are you like bodyguards?” She spoke, and he mentally shook his head.

No. He couldn’t conjure the melody of her words. That sirenic quality was too unique.

“Sometimes, but we also do other . . .” How could he put this? “Military-style operations.”

The tiniest line formed between her brows when she squinted at him as if trying to understand.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and added, “Like hostage evac or, uh . . .”

Her eyes widened. “You kill people.”

He met her shocked stare straight on. “Bad people.”

He hoped the admission didn’t send her running out the door. In this weather, he’d have no choice but to chase after her and hold her captive, even if it was against her will. Because the other option was death. And he didn’t need any more of that on his conscience—at least not the innocent kind.

She blew out a breath and gave a tiny nod. “People like Mr. Dao.”

Relieved that he hadn’t repulsed her, Bo let out the breath he’d been holding. “To help you, I’m going to need more information about what happened.”

Selene straightened, her gaze taking him in, assessing him before she leaned back in the chair. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he answered with the smallest twitch of his lips. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a reason to smile, but she’d already made him want to more than once.

Before he got lost studying her face—she had the tiniest little mole next to her right eyebrow—he pushed off the counter and started working on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

She needed food. Then he’d grill her about her boss.

“Bo?”

He froze, unwilling to turn around and face those ocean eyes. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he went back to prepping the sandwiches.

“I can’t pay you. I just lost my job.” She followed her statement with a humorless laugh.

“Did I ask for payment?” he growled the question as he spun.

“No, but . . .” she trailed off at the fierce look he knew showed on his face.

Sure, Tactical Operations & Protection charged a hefty price for its services, but Selene was different. Fate had dropped her at his door. This wasn’t about TOP. It was about . . . his chance at redemption or at least the opportunity to work toward it.

And maybe with her, it’s about a little more than that.

He shook that thought from his head before it could lead him into dangerous territory. Despite being a soldier-for-hire, he wasn’t helping her for money. He’d offered without that ever crossing his mind. Acknowledging it, his chest tightened uncomfortably, and he had to look away.

He heard her soft sigh before she said, “Thank you.”

Again, with that damn word! His hand tightened around the handle of the frying pan he’d just taken out for the grilled cheese. Setting it on the stove-top with more force than necessary, he ground out, “Don’t mention it.”

Ever again.

He didn’t want her gratitude, but he did want the truth. If her boss wanted her dead, she knew more than she’d mentioned. Bo dropped a pat of butter in the frying pan and listened to it sizzle against the hot iron.

He needed to hear the whole story, call Victor and bring TOP into the equation. His team leader would have final say on their involvement . . . at least, officially. But Bo had every intention of seeing this through until he knew Selene would be safe.

He needed to save her to . . . his thoughts stuttered.

He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about this when he’d just met her.

Hell, for all he knew, she could be a criminal.

His gut clenched in protest, knowing that wasn’t true.

She was alone, scared, and running for her life.

Whatever happened, she didn’t deserve that.

He knew on a soul-deep level. Enough to make him want to make things right for her.

A loud pop as the butter overheated pulled his thoughts back to the task at hand. Lowering the heat on the burner, he focused on grilling the sandwiches, not the intriguing woman waiting at his kitchen table.

His mouth watered as the meal cooked, sending the unctuous aroma of browning butter and fried cheese to his nose.

He’d been eating civilian MREs for the last week, putting off his monthly supply run to Bozeman.

Bo didn’t mind the ready-made meals, but after so many days of lukewarm puree, he looked forward to what he typically saved as his last supper before restocking his pantry.

She remained quiet behind him as he finished preparing the food, divvying up the tomato soup into bowls and cutting each sandwich in half at a diagonal before plating them and carrying everything to the table.

As he set the meal in front of Selene, her pretty eyes warmed, and she opened her mouth to thank him.

Not wanting to hear it, Bo cut her off with a barked, “So what’s the deal with your boss?”

A thoughtful frown tugged at her features while she studied him. He needed to look away, but her sea-swept gaze locked him in its eddy. The grays and the greens of her irises swirled together, like water lapping at his legs, threatening to pull him under. The world around him felt unsteady.

When she finally blinked, he swallowed and dropped his eyes to his plate. Gripping the spoon tighter than necessary, he dipped it in his soup.

She sighed softly, sipped her water, then spoke. “I work for Saber Tech as a translator. The company headquarters are in China, and I got stuck on second shift. Last nigh—”

“You speak Chinese?”

She made a face. “Mandarin. And, yes, among others.”

Curious, he asked her a question in Pashto.

His mouth curved when she answered in the same language, “Not a chance, dude.” Then she took a huge bite of the grilled cheese he’d asked for half of.

A chuckle surprised them both when it rumbled out of his throat. She recovered first, asking with a smile, “How do you know Pashto?”

Any mirth he’d felt evaporated under the screaming heat of his past. It burned, just like the scars on his leg. “I was a SEAL. My unit deployed to Afghanistan.”

Her face clouded, something akin to sympathy flickering in her eyes. Ignoring it, he focused on his food and prodded, “What happened last night?”

He didn’t miss the way her body shuddered, the hand holding the spoon rattling it against the soup bowl.

“I found a piece of technology in one of my translation packages. I had no idea what it was, so I planned to ask my friend, Yumi. She’s a programmer with the company.

Right about then, the power went out, and I had to find my way to her desk in the dark. ”

When she audibly swallowed, he couldn’t help it.

He met her gaze. But her eyes looked through him, reliving what she relayed.

“The CEO of the company, Mr. Dao, and another man he called Felix were at Yumi’s station, asking about some technology model.

They were looking for the microchip I’d found, so I turned it over.

I thought that would be the end of it, but the next thing I know, I’m being knocked out and waking up in a car somewhere near here. ”

Her rush of words abruptly stopped, making him fight the urge to squeeze the hand she fisted on the table.

As if he knew how to offer anyone comfort.

Not only were his people skills rusty, but he was also the opposite of soothing.

Internally shaking his head, Bo took another bite of his sandwich and waited for her to finish.

Her voice lowered in volume as if she still couldn’t quite believe it. “Mr. Dao wanted to drug me and leave my unconscious body to succumb to the elements, so I ran. Felix shot me, and I fell.”

Bo gripped his spoon so hard he thought he might bend it as he looked up to catch her dazed expression. The thought of anyone firing at her, trying to take her life, filled him with an uncomfortable fury. The force of it started building in his blood until it pounded out a tattoo on his temples.

“I remember the cold . . . and I was bleeding. They thought I was dead, so they left.” Watching her fiddle with the crust of the sandwich she hadn’t wanted to share, the rage slowly seeped out of Bo.

He’d pay back this Felix and Mr. Dao, but for now, Selene needed to know he wouldn’t let them get to her again.

Reaching for her restless hand, he stilled her fingers. When her gray-green eyes met his, he gave it a squeeze. “You’re safe here, Selene.”

She nodded slowly at his statement, staring down at his hand until he came to his senses and removed it. “Then, I started trekking through the snow until I saw your cabin.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I think you can take it from there.”