Rough Edges (4 page)

B
ella had woken up in Victor's guest closet, shivering with both cold and fear. She couldn't remember the dream that had driven her to cower and hide, but that didn't make it any less humiliating. Or any less frightening.

She was furious for reasons she refused to acknowledge—reasons too big for her to allow them to distract her now, while so much was at stake. She used that anger now, channeling it into a tightly controlled bundle of energy she burned to fuel her muscles.

Sweat dripped from her chin as she faced her opponent in the sparring ring, but she didn't dare stop to wipe it away. If she did, Adam Brink would pounce.

Now that she knew Adam was Gage's brother, she could see the similarities in them. They were both tall and lean, with sharp, angular features and keen minds. She'd once thought of Adam as her enemy, but he had since proved himself a formidable ally. Not only had he saved the life of more than one of Bella's employees, he'd also made her friend and tech goddess Mira a very happy, very satisfied woman. So much so that Bella ignored the fact that Adam and Mira were breaking several company rules with their engagement and frequent bouts of monkey sex in the server room.

If only Bella could ignore those rules herself long enough to see if Victor was as tasty as he appeared. Maybe then she'd be able to get some decent sleep.

A sigh of longing slipped past her lips.

Adam moved so fast Bella hardly saw it coming. She was too slow to stop his attack, which earned her a position with her face pinned against the sparring mat.

“You're distracted today,” Adam said with complete calm. None of the heat of their practice battle seemed to touch him.

Her elbow and shoulder begged for him to release her arm, which was currently twisted behind her back with great force. Talking with her cheek smooshed against the mat was hard, but she managed. “I let you pin me.”

He immediately let her go, lifting her back to her feet with one graceful tug. Behind him, not twenty feet away, stood Victor, watching her.

He was shirtless, showing off a body meant for a woman's hands. And her tongue.

Lean, functional muscles gleamed with sweat under the gym's lights. His shorts gave her a clear view of his long, strong legs. Even as tall as she was, as ripped as she forced herself to stay for her own safety, she knew without a doubt that there was more than enough room on his thighs for her to snuggle up in his lap.

The fact that the word
snuggle
even entered her vocabulary was proof of just how sleep-deprived she was. Women like her didn't snuggle. They trained and worked and issued orders. They strategized and did paperwork and kicked ass when the need arose. Which was often.

The sharp sting of Adam's hand against her shoulder refocused her attention.

“Does someone need a nap?” he asked.

This time Bella kept her gaze where it belonged—on her opponent—and made her move. Adam let her think she had the upper hand right up to the point where she landed flat on her back, her body completely immobilized beneath his.

The smell of his sweat invaded her nose. A sick swell of nausea clogged her throat. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. She was supposed to slip away. Stay on her feet.

Run.

Something dark and terrifying spewed out of the dark recesses of her memory. She'd been helpless like this too many times before. Trapped.

The memory of being strapped to a hospital bed flooded her mind. She was small. Weak. Something hot and biting was being pumped into her veins. It set the back of her skull on fire and made every muscle in her thin body strain and clench. It didn't matter how hard she fought or how much she pulled on her restraints, there was no escape.

That memory melded into another, more recent one. This time she was older, bigger. Still, she was powerless to stop the violence coming toward her. Her husband's hard hands bit into her skin, bruising as they tightened and pinned her arms down. His snarl of anger was proof of what would happen next—a precursor to the pain that was speeding her way. First the physical pain, then the emotional aftermath.

She had to fight back. Run away. But her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she went limp and weak, accepting her fate. This fear and violence was her home—where she'd been created to live. All the fight had been stripped from her, leaving behind only a weak, spineless shell. There was no avoiding the inevitable.

Adam's weight shifted atop her, flinging her mind back to the here and now. Helpless terror still clung to her, fogging and jumbling her thoughts.

The need to fight, to flee, rose up, taking over her limbs. The victim in her retreated back into her cage, leaving the need to survive shining bright like a beacon of strength.

There was no technique to her efforts now—just pure instinct and rage. She didn't care if she hurt him or herself. All that mattered was freedom.

She thrashed around, clawing and kicking at her captor. She couldn't let him win. Couldn't let him hold her down. Hurt her. Kill her.

Bella was not a victim. Not ever again.

The keen blade of panic cut through her, shearing away all reason. She heard her blood pound in her ears and saw her vision dim. The rough edges of her own screams barely penetrated the fog of her fear. Beyond that were the startled grunts of an opponent expecting her attack.

“Get off her!” A man's hard order. She knew the voice, but couldn't place it.

Friend or foe? She couldn't remember. Better to run from him, too.

Her fingernails bit into sweaty skin. Her toes met dense flesh, hitting hard enough to shove a grunt from her captor and send a streak of pain up her shin.

Then he was gone. His weight evaporated as if it had never been. Her panic dissipated and vision cleared in time to see Victor's arms extend as he bodily threw Adam to the far side of the sparring ring.

He landed well, coming up on the other side of a graceful roll. Apology was clear on his face, along with a dizzying dose of confusion.

Victor crouched beside her, blocking out the sight of all else. A look of concern creased his aristocratic brow. He didn't touch her, but his hand hovered only inches away from her shoulder, as if he was thinking about it.

In that crazy, emotional moment, she desperately wanted his touch—something to ground her in reality, not that insane place she'd been inhabiting a second ago. A place she'd lived for too many years.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The normal noises of the gym had gone silent. No one spoke. There were about half a dozen people present, and most of them were staring at Bella with varying looks of shock and worry. A couple were grinning, like they were certain her freak-out had been a joke.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Her face burned with embarrassment. Her whole body trembled. She wanted to stand and tell them all to mind their own damn business, but her throat was still constricted from her strangled screams of panic. She swore she could still hear them echoing in her ears.

Victor's voice quieted so no one else could hear, but his tone was no less insistent. “Tell me you're okay or I'm picking you up and taking you to a hospital.”

“Fine,” she managed to squeak out, though the weak sound was almost as embarrassing as her episode.

His lips flattened in acceptance, and she saw his expression change to the one he wore when he was getting ready to plow through an impossible task. He stood, and his voice filled the gym. “She just got the wind knocked out of her. Clear the room. She says employee meeting in fifteen minutes in the conference room.”

The gathered people looked at her as if expecting her to issue a different order.

Victor's voice took on the boom of a drill instructor. “Move!”

Everyone scurried to obey except Adam, who gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “I'm sorry if I hurt you,” he said.

She waved him away, hoping her hand wasn't shaking too hard to reassure him.

He nodded. “I'm going back out to look for Gage again,” he said, and then left the room.

While Bella appreciated the privacy Victor's lie had afforded her, she knew better than to believe it herself. She'd had more than the wind knocked out of her. Somewhere between Adam's hold and her abrupt landing on the mat, she'd lost part of her mind.

You're never going to escape the person you were. You'll carry her with you for the rest of your days. Acceptance is your only option.
Payton's voice wriggled in the back of Bella's memory, taunting her with failure.

She would not be that person again. Weak. Spineless. A victim. She was too strong for that now. Dan had tried to break her, but she'd survived. Unbreakable.

At least until today. Whatever Adam had done to her had thrown her back into her old self, where panic and fear ruled her every action.

She couldn't go back there. Never again.

The gym doors clicked shut as the last person filed into the locker room. Victor stayed behind, though she couldn't understand why.

“Go with them,” she ordered. “Get dressed. I have to figure out what I'm going to talk about at our employee meeting. Nice cover, by the way.”

“Best I could do on short notice. You scared the hell out of me.”

Why, she had no idea, but his concern was as touching as it was irritating. “I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Like hell. You were screaming. Care to tell me what happened?”

Shame tightened her skin until she wanted to crawl out of it and go hide. “I'm not used to being pinned. Got a little claustrophobic,” she lied.

“You didn't panic when I had you pinned.”

Even the memory of that moment had the power to soften her muscles and ease a bit of the harsh tension radiating through her. “It's no big deal. Won't happen again.”

She hoped.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I know this job is a lot of stress. You never sleep; you don't eat right. If it's getting to be too much for you, I need to know.”

She pushed herself upright, but didn't dare risk trying to stand. Her wobbly legs weren't going to hold her up yet.

She put as much force as she could behind her words. “Stop right there. I'm not some fragile flower you have to protect. I handle the stress just fine. And you need to pay less attention to my eating and sleeping habits and more to using your government contacts to find Gage and Stynger. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I'm fine.”

His brows went up. “Oh really? Is that what you call your little panic attack? Fine?”

“Leave it alone, Victor.”

“That's not going to happen. Lives depend on you being at the top of your game. If the stress is getting to you, then you owe it to your team to take some time off and relax. Go lounge on a beach or enter a mixed martial arts tournament or skydive naked into shark-infested waters—whatever de-stresses you. We'll all be here when you get back.”

“Gage is still missing. Stynger is still out there hurting people. Every lead we get on her goes cold fast, and all that's left is the string of dead bodies and destroyed lives in her wake. If you think I'm going to sit on a beach, sipping fruity drinks out of coconut shells while that's going on, you're insane.”

“And if you think I'm going to work with a woman who's half a step away from breaking down, you're an idiot.”

Frustration and anger fueled her limbs, giving her the strength to stand. Her knees shook, but she pretended not to notice. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I'm fine. Back off.”

With slow, deliberate care, Victor used one finger to push against her shoulder.

The slight pressure unbalanced her. Her unstable knees gave out on her and she stumbled backward. She would have landed on her ass if he hadn't reached out and grabbed her arms before she fell.

He pulled her upright, supporting her weight against his hard, sweaty frame. After a good workout, most men reeked, but not Victor Temple. The scent of his skin was an intoxicating mix that distracted her from her anger for a split second. She breathed him in, trying to remember that she was pissed at him, that he'd overstepped his bounds.

His grip on her arms shifted, reminding her that she still hadn't found her footing. If not for his hold, she would have crumpled to the mat like some kind of fainting maiden.

Those clear blue eyes of his were fixed on her with absolute calm. No accusation, no anger, only casual acceptance for what he obviously believed was the truth. “You're not fine. But you will be, because everyone here needs you to be. We all need you to take better care of yourself. And if you don't, I
will
make you.”

The statement should have made her furious, but the way he said it with absolute authority short-circuited her brain, tricking her into thinking she should accept his statement as wholeheartedly as he did.

It took her a few seconds to realize she'd been manipulated, and when she did, the fire of anger sparked back to life. “You have no right to make me do anything.”

“Actually I do. You signed the contract. I'm your liaison. You gave me the authority to interfere if I didn't like the way you were handling the mission to find Dr. Stynger and destroy her research. And I really don't like the way you're handling things.”

“So, what?” she asked, finally finding her balance enough to step out of his grasp. “You're going to run off and tattle to the US government that I'm not taking enough naps?”

“No, I'm going to act in accordance with our contract and take over the mission myself. Remove you from your position of leadership, and finish the job without you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, making the muscles in his chest ripple beneath a gleaming layer of sweat. “Or, you can play nice and you can continue to be in charge.”

“I can always rip up the contract and fire your ass.”