Page 66 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter fifty-two

Muriel’s face heated at O’Neill’s expression. He looked...Goddess. She flinched. She wasn’t even sure what that look represented. But it was not excitement at the thought of spending time with her.

Embarrassment hit, followed by hurt.

The mortification was understandable, even expected.

She asked him to do something he obviously didn’t want to do.

Of course, that was cause for embarrassment.

But the hurt? Where had that come from? Why had it come?

There wasn’t a deep enough emotional connection between them for his rejection to hurt.

But then, maybe that distance between them was the source of the ache. Maybe she was reacting to crushed anticipation, or the loss of hope. She’d wanted to reconnect. See where things might lead if they explored those emotional and physical ties of twenty years ago.

He, on the other hand, obviously did not want to explore anything with her.

“Never mind.” Her voice was too high. She could hear the shrillness beneath the words. “Forget I asked. It was a stupid idea. I know how busy you are.” She backpedaled furiously, her face getting hotter.

Spinning, she headed for the ER doors. She needed to get out of here before her face exploded, or she burst into tears.

“Muriel,” he called out behind her.

“It’s okay,” she said, walking faster. “It was just a...thought.” She swept out the emergency room door, wishing they were a transporter and could whisk her away.

“Look.” Fingers wrapped around her elbow, halting her agitated march across the parking slots. “I think you might have...misunderstood...my response.”

She closed her eyes for a second. Once she was certain she had herself back under control, she turned around.

“I didn’t misunderstand.” When she took a step back, he released her arm. She took another step, putting even more space between them. He’d just established a boundary, and she was going to reinforce it, no matter how much it stung. “The look on your face made your feelings perfectly clear.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

Annoyance replaced the hurt. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, apparently the look on my face did not make my feelings clear. At all.”

She shrugged dismissively. “Whatever. You don’t have to teach the class. I’ll ask Wolf to do it. Or have him assign another warrior.”

“First off,” he said, his voice flattening, “teaching a self-defense class is more involved than you seem to think. Where am I going to teach it? Up here, on base? Are your friends from The Neighborhood gonna feel comfortable training in the base gym, or out on the obstacle course, surrounded by warriors?”

She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him—or tried to. “The classes could be held down in The Neighborhood.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice hard. “Where? The space would need mats, a punching bag, and room to move. Far as I know, there’s nothing like that in The Neighborhood.”

“Oh.” The last of her annoyance drained away. “I guess we could hold the classes outside once the snow clears.”

“And give the mosquitoes a feast? Yeah, that’s not going to work.” He paused, his voice still flat, but not quite as hard. “You’d need a dedicated building before classes could be begin.”

Before Muriel had a chance to nod, he started talking again.

“But the space complications aren’t the reason I hesitated.” His voice tightened.

“I know why you hesitated.” Muriel steadied her voice. “And it’s fine. Really.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” His voice softened until it was silky smooth.

“So, you know teaching self-defense involves touching...the positioning of arms and legs. And the thought of touching you sent my dick into a full throttle salute.” He paused.

And his voice lost its silky threat. “The chemistry between us has always been combustible. Judging by the past three weeks, that heat hasn’t evaporated.

I’d say it’s gotten stronger. Teaching you how to defend yourself is going to be. ..complicated.”

This time, the heat that exploded in her face had nothing to do with embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His voice returned to its previous neutrality. “So how about we have our first session today? Will that work for you?”

Her eyes widened. “Session?”

Was he talking about self-defense or sex?

A smirk touched his lips. The smug bastard knew exactly what she was wondering.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Mur. I’m talking about self-defense.

Today, in the base gym. It has the matts and punching bag and enough warriors on hand to make sure things don’t get too.

..heated.” He paused, his glowing green eyes laser-focused on her face.

“So, what do you say? Are you ready for this?

It was a direct challenge. Unapologetic. Unsubtle.

And her response would either redirect their relationship into romance, or into coparenting friends.

She didn’t hesitate. The conversation about matchmaking among Olivia’s friends the other night, or rather her response to the conversation, had told her exactly what she wanted.

O’Neill seemed to feel the same way.

However, it wouldn’t hurt to slow his roll, give them both some breathing room.

“Yes.” Her voice was steady. “But I can’t do today.

I need to catch the next flight down to The Neighborhood to clean up after Penny.

” His gaze narrowed as he searched her face.

Did he think she was chickening out? Not a chance.

“I really am heading down, next chopper in fact. You know I rescued a peacock, right? Anyway, peafowl are incredibly messy birds. Lots of droppings. Since Penny is living in Olivia and Samuel’s garage, I clean up after her every couple of days.

Plus, Penny gets lonely.” The suspicion faded from his eyes.

“Although not as much now that Trident visits her so often.”

And she was rambling now. Annoyed with herself, she clamped her mouth shut up.

“Trident?” He looked surprised. “Demi’s cat? I thought she kept him locked up.”

“He’s been sneaking out. Mostly to visit Penny.”

“Must be looking for a snack.”

Muriel didn’t think so. While the cat had acted predatory at first, the past few times she’d caught him hanging around Penny, he’d just looked fascinated rather than hungry.

O’Neill lifted his wrist, checking his watch. “When does your ride leave?”

“An hour.”

His gaze drifted back to her face and lingered. “Just enough time for lunch. You want to join me at the mess hall?”

The question brought warmth back to her face; from there, it spread down her throat, chest, and into her belly. “I’d like that.”

He gestured toward one of the utility vehicles parked to their right, but she shook her head.

“Can we walk? It’s not that far. I’ll call Gracie, see if she’s free.”

He took the outside of the walkway and adjusted his stride to hers. “How is Gracie?”

“Committed. To the conditioning routine you developed for her.” Muriel offered him a bemused smile. “I’ve never seen her so driven to—”

She broke off, stopping dead. Ahead, in the middle of the thoroughfare, stood a tall, lean figure. A translucent figure. She recognized the way it stood, the tilt of its head, the jut of its proud chin—so much like Samuel’s. And the shape and color of its eyes, so much like her own.

Daniel...her son. Her translucent, dead son.

A utility vehicle came round the corner and drove right through it. The translucent image exploded in particles of dark and light, leaving nothing but sorrow behind.

“What’s wrong?” O’Neill asked, his gaze following the direction she was looking.

“Nothing.” But the denial was hoarse...raw. And that gritty, barren blizzard started wailing through her again.

“Muriel—”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked. The question broke from her before she could stop it, half hopeful...half desperate.

“Ghosts.” He repeated. He scanned her face and then looked toward where she was staring again. “Why?”

“I think Daniel’s spirit is stuck on base. I sense him often. Even see him occasionally.”

“You saw him just now?”

“I think so.” Her throat tightened beneath a surge of self-disgust. “No. I know so.” Her voice strengthened.

“But his spirit was freed from his husk. We had the releasing ceremony—twice. Here on base and back on the Brenahiilo. He should be laughing with family around the campfires of our ancestors. Not wandering Shadow Mountain.”

She expected disbelief, followed by an explanation of grief and its effects on the mind. But that wasn’t what he gave her.

“Maybe he remains to watch over you and Gracie. To make sure you both are thriving before he moves on.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You believe me?”

A simple nod, followed by an even simpler, “I do.”

“Do you see him, as well?”

“No...but I didn’t birth and raise him. I didn’t love him. He didn’t love me. He’d have no reason to keep watch over me.”

The blizzard circling her soul went silent and still. She’d told nobody of her belief that Daniel was still on base, certain they’d think her grief-crazy or soul-sick. It felt good to share her certainty. It felt good to be believed.

“Then Gracie and I will thrive. Release him from his worry.” Tears thickened her voice. But her eyes remained dry.

Silence fell as they resumed walking, but it was a comfortable silence—even comforting. When they reached the cafeteria, they found Gracie inside. Only then did Muriel realize she’d forgotten to call her. The visitation of Daniel’s spirit had driven everything from her mind.

Gracie’s gaze bounced between Muriel and O’Neill when she saw them. Coldness flickered in her eyes. “What are you two doing here?”

Muriel knew the question wasn’t what they were doing. The what was obvious. Gracie’s real question was why they were together. She ignored her daughter’s reaction. “I was just about to call you, see if you were free for lunch.”

“No kidding.” Her face flattened, smooth as an ice sculpture. “I’ve already ordered.” She turned toward O’Neill, her expression thawing. “When did you get back?”

“An hour ago.” His focus shifted from Gracie to Muriel and back again. “Ran into your mom at the clinic.”

Gracie didn’t respond to that, although a hint of entreaty flickered across her face. “When can we resume my training?”

“Tomorrow. I need to meet with Wolf and Cap today.” He turned to Muriel. “What time are you returning to base tomorrow?”

“Why does that matter?” Gracie asked.

Muriel stood frozen, feeling like she was tied to a train track, with the engine screaming toward her.

“Your mother will be joining us from now on for our self-defense lessons.” O’Neill said.

His voice was deliberate and unyielding. He’d noticed Gracie’s resistance to the idea. And rolled right over it.

This was not going to turn out well...at least for Muriel.

“No kidding,” Gracie said again, her tone neutral.

She’d obviously noticed her father’s refusal to let her dictate his decisions.

But the seething glance their daughter sent Muriel belied her mild tone. She was not happy about Muriel’s encroachment on her time with her father.

Not happy at all.