Page 9 of Being Bold (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP) Security #1)
Instead of answering, he grunted and rose to his feet, making her wonder if that was his default response.
When her stomach protested again, she stood up.
Her body wobbled, and she gasped, involuntarily plopping back onto the couch.
She closed her eyes and leaned forward, trying to stay upright instead of pitching to the floor.
She was light-headed. From her head injury or lack of food, she wasn’t sure. How long had it been since she’d eaten?
Lunch yesterday.
No wonder her stomach had sounded like a freight train. She hadn’t had any food in over twenty-four hours.
“Are you all right?”
She lifted her head and focused on Bo. He’d knelt beside her, and one of his hands extended toward her as if he weren’t sure he should touch her.
“Sorry. I felt light-headed.”
He rasped, “Let me help you, then.”
She nodded, and he slipped his arms around her, lifting her to her feet while she tried not to think about how good it felt to have his hands steadying her.
When she was standing, he asked, “Okay?”
“Yes,” she managed to get out as the breath caught in her lungs from his nearness.
He backed away, watching her to ensure she didn’t fall, probably. Determined not to, she took a step and then another until she was sure of her feet.
With a curt nod, he turned away. Blowing out a breath, she stuffed her hands in the pocket of the navy hoodie and followed Bo to the kitchen. He rummaged through cabinets, muttering something she couldn’t make out.
A small table with two chairs graced one side, and she hovered by it, asking, “Can I help?”
He spun around, looking surprised to find her there, his eyes widening slightly. “No. Got it.”
His gruff response threw her off guard. “Oh, okay.”
Was he mad that he had to feed her? She knew she was imposing, but what choice did she have?
Frowning at his back, she slid into a chair. Her life was a mess, but at least she still had her life.
What am I supposed to do now?
She had to go to the police, right? Calling them probably should’ve been her first thought. Shaking her head, she went to retrieve his phone from the living room.
Back in the kitchen, she approached Bo as he stirred something on the stove. The scent of tomato hit her nose, and she could’ve moaned. She didn’t care what he made. She would eat every last bite. “That smells good.”
He visibly stiffened, so she paused a couple of feet away. “Tomato soup. And I’ll make grilled cheese.”
A genuine smile tilted her lips up. “That’s one of my favorite combos.”
When he grunted again, she focused on the reason she’d walked over here. “Do you know the local police number? I didn’t want to dial 9-1-1 when it’s not an emergency, but I have to report what happened.”
His muscular shoulders moved with a sigh before he turned around. His face was set in stoical lines, and he scrubbed at the back of his neck. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think they’ll be much help. Unless you have some sort of proof, it’s your word against his.”
Annoyed, she pointed at the bandage on her head. “Isn’t this proof enough?”
“That someone shot at you, yes. But they’ll need more than that to hold your boss.” His eyes were regretful as he added, “If they haul him in for questioning based on your report, he’ll be out in twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Then, he’ll know you’re still alive and could try to finish the job.”
She actually felt her face blanch. All the blood in her body seemed determined to flow elsewhere, leaving her head a little woozy. She must’ve looked like she would faint because Bo stepped toward her and caught both of her arms.
“Whoa there, ocean-eyes.”
Selene blinked and shook off a wave of dizziness. “What did you call me?”
She might not have noticed the slight pink hue that filled his cheeks if she hadn’t been standing so close.
Is he blushing?
He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Ocean-eyes. Because, you know, the color of your eyes looks like the sea.”
She frowned at him. No one had ever made that comparison, and she wasn’t sure it fit. Her eyes were green. She didn’t know what ocean he was used to, but the Pacific didn’t match her eye color.
Shaking off the useless thought, she focused on what he’d said about the police. “You’re right. I can’t let Mr. Dao know I’m alive until we find Yumi.”
“We?” His thumbs brushed the inside of her forearms as his low voice rumbled between them on the question. The heat from his large hands seared through the bunched hoodie fabric. If she’d had any blood left in her face, she would have blushed.
“Oh, I meant ‘I’.” Why was he still holding onto her? “I think I need to sit down.”
Instead of releasing her like she’d thought he would, he guided her back to the chair. “Thanks.”
His gaze thundered at the word, and he gave a sharp nod before returning to the stove.
Bo’s changes in demeanor gave her whiplash. She wasn’t sure if he was pissed that he’d helped her or if he wanted to. Blowing out a breath, she dropped her head in her hands, wincing when she made contact with the bandage on her left side. If she couldn’t go to the police, who could help her?