Page 12 of Being Bold (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP) Security #1)

Selene

Bo’s floor had twenty-one, eight-inch boards. Selene knew because she’d been pacing and counting them for the last ten minutes as her feet traveled the distance from one wall to the other. Her heart drummed in her ears while her thoughts swam with fear and confusion.

Was someone here? What if it were Mr. Dao? They found her tracks and knew she was alive and— No! Stop it, Selene.

She was anxious enough without adding her worst fears to the list. But where was Bo? What if he didn’t come back?

Something buzzed a loud warning tone, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Relax, it’s just the dryer.

Startled out of her stride, she gulped down air and worked to get her pulse under control. If Bo didn’t come back and someone else did . . . standing here petrified wouldn’t help her. She’d gotten away before and could do it again, but she needed a weapon.

In case he had another one hidden there, she raced toward the couch, dropping to her knees to search underneath it.

No such luck.

Her gaze flitted around the tiny cabin. The small home didn’t offer a lot of hiding places. She chewed her lip when her eyes fell on the loft. It seemed wrong to invade Bo’s personal space, but her need for survival outweighed any sense of courtesy. Blowing out a breath, Selene climbed the ladder.

The low height of the loft ceiling meant she had to crawl on her hands and knees once she reached the top. Knowing Bo had several inches on her, she wondered how he managed to maneuver up there. She’d already almost bumped her head twice. On all fours, she stared at the cramped bedroom.

A king-size mattress took up nearly the entire space.

The roof slanted, and Bo had the bed pushed all the way into the sloping corner.

Piles of neatly folded clothes cluttered the wall at the foot of the bed.

Nothing she could defend herself with there, but on the opposite side of the slant, a hard-sided case served as a nightstand.

That looked promising for holding a weapon. If she were lucky, he’d have another gun. She wasn’t any kind of marksman, but her father had at least ensured she knew how to shoot.

Managing to scoot-crawl in between the bed and the low railing that kept her from falling fifteen feet to the floor, Selene paused in front of the sun-faded green box. It looked like an equipment case, though for what, she wasn’t sure. Catching her lip, she undid the latch and lifted the lid.

A glance showed her it was full of personal items, but no weapons.

On instinct, she reached in and lifted a photograph.

The edges were worn and wrinkled, but it didn’t seem that old.

At least the Bo in the photo closely resembled the one she’d just met.

He stood, smiling into the camera next to another man.

A little younger and a touch shorter. Both wore military uniforms and held rifles.

The background was hazy but looked like a dirt street with a mountain peak in the distance.

Afghanistan maybe?

He’d said he’d deployed there. She flinched when the dryer buzzed again as if warning her to stop snooping. Not wanting to invade his privacy any more than she already had, Selene closed the box and resecured the latch.

The only other place she hadn’t checked for a weapon was under the bed. Sweeping her hands beneath the mattress, she felt the handle of a knife. A determined huff left her lips. With a grunt, she tugged it out, managing to lose her balance in the process and face-plant into Bo’s sheets.

Sputtering as she got a mouthful of his scent, she pushed herself up fast enough to ram her injured head on the ceiling.

“Oww!”

Gasping at the shooting pain that followed, she closed her eyes and focused on breathing through it. Except that only brought the fresh smell of sea mist and minerals further into her nose. If stone had a scent, Bo embodied it. Dark and salty. She liked it, probably more than she should.

When the pain dulled, she sat back on her haunches and pulled the knife she’d found into her lap.

It wasn’t a pocket or a kitchen knife. The handle weighed down her palm.

The blade was sheathed in a black leather cover but had to be at least six inches long.

She left it encased as she tucked the weapon into the pocket of her hoodie.

Backing until she felt the ladder with her foot, she started to climb down from the loft.

She really hoped she didn’t need to use the knife.

It seemed like it could do a lot of damage.

Her feet had just touched the floor when there was a knock on the door. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she pulled the blade from her pocket. Unsheathing it, she crept toward the cabin’s door.

“Selene, it’s Bo. Open up.”

Relief crashed into her at his voice, and she fumbled at the lock with unsteady fingers.

He’d become her lifeline in the short time they’d spent together.

She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

Not with the way things were going. Flinging the door wide, she stepped back even though she suddenly wanted to launch herself into his arms.

But it wasn’t Bo who entered the cabin.

“Yumi!” The knife slipped from Selene’s fingers to hit the floorboards with a thud as she launched herself at her friend. “You’re okay!”

Despite nearly tackling the shorter woman, Yumi only laughed and squeezed back. “Of course, I’m okay! But what happened to you?”

About that . . .

Selene glanced at Bo, where he hovered by the door, his gaze trained on something behind her. Turning her head to see what he looked at, she hid a wince. “Um, sorry. I just . . . I, um—”

“It’s okay.” When his dark gaze met hers, she relaxed. The understanding she glimpsed washed the awkwardness from her tongue, as if he sensed her reason for needing the weapon now lying on his floor.

“Nice outfit,” Yumi murmured with a smirk as she disengaged from Selene’s crushing hug.

When heat tingled in her cheeks, she cleared her throat. “Oh, yeah, my clothes were drying.”

Yumi arched a perfectly groomed brow, glancing between her and Bo, the look suggesting something more had happened between them than the reality.

The implication kept the color in Selene’s cheeks as she tried to brush past the subject. “How did you find me?”

“I tracked the number you called from.”

“Oh.” She knew Yumi was way techier than she could ever hope to be, so the fact that she’d been able to track it didn’t surprise Selene. “Well, I’m glad you did. But what happened with Mr. Dao? How did you get away?”

Her friend’s bangs swished as she shook her head. “I was going to ask the same thing. What happened to you?”

Bo cleared his throat, grabbing their attention. “I have questions, too. Why don’t we—” Cutting off, he waved a hand toward the couch.

Since they were still standing at the door and a knife lay in the walkway, moving their conversation to a more comfortable spot seemed like a good idea. She started in that direction, but Yumi wasn’t so quick to follow.

She sized Bo up in an obvious way that almost made Selene snort. “Oh, I’ve got questions for you, too, big guy.”

While she and Yumi settled on the sofa, Bo grabbed the knife from the floor with a grunt. They all stared at each other after he sat on the coffee table. For some reason, the tension crackling in the air made Selene laugh.

Shaking her head, she offered, “Okay, I’ll start.” Then, she filled Yumi in on what Mr. Dao had tried to do to her and how she ended up at Bo’s cabin.

Her friend seemed paler than usual after Selene finished recounting yesterday’s events. “God, Selene. I’m so sorry. I should’ve . . .” she trailed off instead of saying whatever she’d intended.

Worrying her lip, Selene asked the question nagging at her, “How did you get away?”

◆◆◆

Bo

Bo stared at the petite Asian woman, wondering the same thing because all the pieces of this puzzle weren’t adding up.

Yumi’s voice dropped on her answer. “They let me go.”

Confusion clouded Selene’s sea-mist eyes. “But why? Why would they do that when they came after me?”

She wasn’t going to like the answer to that question. If her friend even gave it to her. But Bo knew. The only reason Yumi would’ve walked away clear is—

“I offered him something he couldn’t get if I were dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

Yumi shrugged it off. “Just a program he wants that I have access to.” She waved her hand. “That’s not important. It’s good he doesn’t know you’re still alive, but you need protection if we’re going to keep it that way.”

“‘We’re’?” Selene’s question made it clear to him that she had no idea of her friend’s background or her apparent ability to use a blade.

There was too much Yumi wasn’t telling her for Bo to feel comfortable leaving Selene’s safety in her friend’s hands.

With a grunt, he spoke up, “That’s my job. I work for a private security firm, and Selene is under my protection.”

Yumi’s gaze fell to his chest as if questioning his ability. Remembering the slice she’d given him, he glanced down with a scowl.

Dammit!

He’d forgotten the injury in his need to protect Selene. Though the cut was shallow, it had bled through his shirt, and he felt it dripping warm liquid down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats.

At Selene’s gasp, his head popped up, senses on high alert, but her surprise was only because she’d finally noticed his blood. “You’re hurt! What happened?”

He stared at Yumi, raising a brow in challenge. Would she tell her friend the truth?

Meeting his gaze, the woman smirked. “I cut him.”

Selene’s head swiveled toward her friend. “What?” she practically yelled. “Why would you do that? How did you do that?”

“I don’t just work for Saber Tech, Selene.”

“What do you mean?”

A frustrated sigh puffed from Yumi’s lips. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but since Dao . . .” she trailed off and shook her head. “I work for the Agency. We’ve been monitoring him for a long time.”

CIA.