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Aggie
Admittedly, his price was steep. Had any other man suggested such a fee, she wouldn’t have considered it. But he wasn’t any other man. He was Zeke, the white knight mercenary and kindred soul who knew how to make her body melt and her blood sing.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked as he rubbed the towel over his wet hair.
Fresh from the shower, he wore loose sweats low on his slim hips. She took a moment to admire the view, then shook her head to clear it and focus.
“We go back to Parryville, find Sam, get him to tell us what he knows, then exact some vengeance.”
He smirked. “Exact vengeance?”
“Yes,” she replied firmly. “I don’t appreciate being thrown under the bus, and I really don’t appreciate being roughed up.”
His eyes practically glowed at the reminder as they scanned her body, pausing on those areas that had sustained the most damage. His look was possessive. Intense. In that moment, she understood why his code name was Raguel. He looked exactly like a beautiful, fierce archangel, ready to rain down justice on those who’d hurt her. In that moment, she’d never felt more cherished.
She pulled out her laptop and connected to the secure cache of information she’d compiled on Parryville. There were more files there than there had been. Since her brother was the only other person on earth with access to the information, they must have come from him despite his assertion that Sam Higgins and the Parryville situation weren’t on his “playground.”
Zeke sat down beside her on the massive sectional, bringing with him the scents of soap, shaving cream, and something uniquely him.
She turned her screen, so he could see it. “This is what I’ve got so far. Read through it and tell me what you think we’ll need.”
He accepted the laptop and began to read while she took her turn in the bathroom. They’d agreed that showering separately was more conducive to getting things done than showering together. When they were naked around each other, they had trouble concentrating on anything else.
It was odd, this obsession developing between them. They couldn’t get enough of one another. She’d never experienced anything like it before. Aggie wasn’t complaining, however. As a devout practitioner of mindfulness and living in the moment, she was going to enjoy it while she could. Nothing this powerful, this intense, could last. She just had to keep that in the back of her mind every time her heart tried to suggest otherwise.
Zeke was where she’d left him when she emerged. He glanced up at her briefly, his expression unreadable, then went back to reading. There was a lot of information to wade through. It included her notes based on conversations with Sam, detailed schedules of disposal and route schematics, a list of paper mill employees involved in the process and an in-depth financial analysis on each one, as well as dossiers on the FBI task force and the organized crime situation in the area.
She made a cup of herbal tea, then went out onto the balcony to meditate. If they were going to do this, she would need to be in the proper headspace.
She sat cross-legged on a soft cushion, closed her eyes, and began with some deep breathing exercises. Her body was already loose and relaxed. She lifted her face to the sky and opened her heart, allowing herself to drift away.
When she opened her eyes again, Zeke was sitting on the balcony with her. It was a testament to how safe she felt in his presence that she could lose herself so thoroughly.
“All finished?” she asked.
“All finished,” he confirmed. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”
Very few people knew she existed, let alone what she did, and that was okay. She wasn’t in it for accolades or recognition. Quite the opposite in fact. But hearing those words from Zeke, a man who did his own share of work from the shadows, warmed her from the inside out.
“Glad you think so.”
“I do.” He waved his hand in her general direction. “Does that help?”
“Meditation?”
He nodded.
“Yes. It’s great for clearing the mind and improving focus. Have you ever tried it?”
“No. Tattooing does that for me. I lose myself in it. The hum of the machine. Taking feelings and memories and turning them into art that means something. Not the bangers,” he clarified. “Not the premade designs that everyone gets, but the ones that come from the soul. Those that honor a loved one or turn intangible beliefs into something that can be seen and touched.”
“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.
She rose from the ground and straddled his lap. His hands rested lightly on her hips while she ran her fingers over his chest and arms. Such intricate designs, all different and yet in perfect harmony.
“Do all of your tattoos mean something to you?”
“Most of them do. Some I got when I was young and stupid.”
“What about this one?” She pressed the pads of her fingers to one of the larger images, a complex piece that covered his shoulder, extending down his arm and onto his chest. It incorporated animals—a wolf and a raven—around what looked like an ancient compass, etched with runes and surrounded by symbols. “It looks Nordic.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “A nod to my Viking ancestry.”
She trailed her finger farther down his torso, then across to his arm and the frog skeleton hidden among more symbols. “And this. I’ve seen this before. It’s a bone frog, isn’t it? You’re a Navy SEAL.”
He gently grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Yes, it’s a bone frog. And, no, I’m not a SEAL. Not anymore.”
His tone warned her not to ask any more questions. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned her upper body against his and rested her head in the crook of his neck in a gesture of acceptance. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and she knew he’d gotten the message.
She pressed a kiss to his lips and changed the subject.
“Do you think Sam’s still alive?”
“Yes, I think he’s alive,” Zeke replied after considering her question. “Alive and hiding in the mountains. He grew up around there, right? He’s an avid hunter and fisherman. Those skills and his knowledge of the area are to his advantage, but they won’t last forever. I’m more concerned with why he ran. Based on his behavior and the things he said, he knew he was in danger. If he was an informant, why wouldn’t the FBI protect him?”
“Maybe he didn’t think they could. Or maybe it was the FBI he was afraid of,” she offered, thinking of what had happened to the Boston bank president.
He didn’t immediately discount the possibility. “A dirty agent?”
Aggie shrugged. “It’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone abused their position to line their own pockets.”
“No,” Zeke agreed darkly. “It certainly wouldn’t.”