The Temp (23 page)

54

The body lay motionless on the ground.

Trigger stood above him, squarely in the street light, a silhouette of a man. His shoulders stood out in the night, he was big and beautiful. Eve had a second of awe before she remembered the other guy.

She squeaked next to him.

The other guy stood metres apart. Ready.

“Get lost and we’ll forget this ever happened,” Trigger growled.

The second man stood his ground, then he stepped back one.

The man on the ground came to in a series of grunts and moans, rolling on the pavement. “And take your friend with you.” The man backed up on his elbows, his face looming under the distant street lamp. Eve caught a flash of a scar; the familiarity of it struck her.
It can’t be.
Eve stepped forward to get a better look.

How was it possible?

The man scrambled up, his mottled face fell out of the light obscuring him once more.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, for a moment it looked like he would attack. The air was taught between them. Everything hung in the balance. Then he backed up with the second man. They turned and ran off down a side street.

Her mouth popped. Eve stared after them; it couldn’t have been who she thought it was. It couldn’t. Such a coincidence. There was no way.

Or else she’d have to come to the conclusion they’d found her. Eve’s chest rose and fell, her breath coming out foggy in the night. The temperature had dropped so suddenly.

“How did you do that?” Eve panted, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “He went down so fast and you were”-

“I used to box as a kid. My cross was my signature move,” Trigger’s voice was hard and distant. He didn’t look at her.

“How?”

“I grew up in the Bronx, it’s was a way of life.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from there,” Eve whispered.

Trigger looked up suddenly. “I wasn’t there long. Forget I told you.” His eyes burned silver in the night. He was so dangerous and so unlike the man she thought he was.

He let out a hard breath. There was a moment of indecision and he took her hand and led her down the side street down to the shops where she’d been heading all along. Trigger didn’t say anything as they headed towards the taxi stand. Eve didn’t either, her mind reeled. Her mouth wouldn’t work. She didn’t know what to say.

He hailed a taxi cab with ease. They got in. It drove off.

“Eve relax,” he clutched her into his shoulders. His body was solid and warm.

“What were you doing out there late at night anyway?” What, indeed? It seemed like the dumbest notion in the world.

“I had no food in the house,” she squeaked.
Oh,
how she’d been so stupid!

“Stupid girl,” he didn’t sound as angry as should have been.  “What happened?”

“A man followed me from my home.”

“What?” Trigger startled her. “You mean they weren’t there by chance?”

“I don’t think so,” her bottom lip quivered.

“When did you know you were being followed?”

“After the second street,” there was a heated silence between them.

“What about the club of the corner a few blocks away? Why didn’t you go in there?”

Eve shuddered a breath, the memory, the scar, the Bear, “I don’t know.” She fought back the fear and the adrenaline draining through her body. “What were you doing out here?” Eve blinked. It was such an odd coincidence to bump into him of all people. “Were you following me too?”

His gaze found hers in the hooded light. “No, though I think I should have been. I was on my way to yours by chance.”

“You walked?”

“I was nearby. Who were those guys?”

“I’m not sure,” Eve lied.

She hoped above all else she hadn’t seen what she’d seen.
Scar face. Scar face. Scar face.
The Bear.

“You have a theory?”

“I’m not sure,” Eve wriggled out of his grip.

Trigger let out a resigned sigh holding her closer to him. “And you’re not going to tell me.”

55

“Damn it, you let her get away.”

Jenson rounded the corner and came face to face with the two men in the alleyway. He threw up his hands. In the pitiful light, they both were near identical in their hooded jackets, though Beareman was bigger.

Jensen hadn’t seen what had happened; only he knew this was the last and final alley she could have gone through before getting to the minimart. 

By the looks of it, she’d gotten away. How?

“How did one girl get the drop on you?” Jensen said. “She’s a small thing.”

“She wasn’t alone,” said the shorter one. Cotes wore a hooded jacket, though it was pulled back to reveal his tied back black ponytail. “There was a man with her.”

“Not last I checked.”

“He came to her aid,” Cotes spat on the gravel.

The bigger man, Beareman didn’t seem to acknowledge Jenson as he wiped his jaw with the scruff of his sleeve, coming back with a dark stain.

“You couldn’t draw a knife or a gun?” Jensen said. He never spoke back to these two, they were in a league way above him, had at least fifteen years each. This was Jenson’s job, he was in charge and they were meant to answer to him. 

They had let the target get away,
his
target.

Beareman spun towards him, his face spilling in the light. Pure anger, menacing. There was blood on his lip, a cut forming. Jensen didn’t have time to register as Beareman grabbed him hard by the lapels thrusting him up against a wall lifting him up a few inches off the ground. “You listen to me you little shit,” he snarled. “The goal was not to harm her, got it?” his accent was thick, unforgettable.

Jensen could hardly nod given his neck had not much breathing room. He was terrified into silence. Beareman scared the hell out of him, better known as Bear man due to the scar running down the side of his face. Or scar face. Never say it to his face though. “You weren’t supposed to scare her like that. It was a simple follow. She wasn’t supposed to know. Why did you call us to grab her? The boss told you himself not to make a move.”

“I dunno,” Jenson stuttered. “The girl was on to me, she scared easily. I improvised.”

“You thought you were in charge. Now you’ve blown the whole job.”

“I don’t get it, I thought she had information or sommin,” Jensen mumbled, desperate to plead his way out of this. He’d heard Beareman had killed for less.

The hulk of a man dropped Jensen against the wall and stepped back. His shoulders rose, his fists were bunched as if he were trying very hard to control himself.

Jensen prayed to God he would.

“You don’t harm her, got it? Observe from afar.”

“You’re giving me another shot?”

“I’m feeling generous tonight.”

Jensen nodded vigorously. “Why d’you send me after her anyways?” he shouldn’t be asking, hell he should be pleading thanks for the second chance and his life.

Beareman and Cotes began walking down the alleyway; leaving Jenson slumped against the wall.

“Cus you’re the only one she won’t recognise.”

56

Trigger switched on the light.

Eve walked into the black glassed apartment. It seemed fitting given what had transpired, Eve couldn’t go back home. Not yet anyway. Her heart had slowed to a deer like patter, the blood had returned to her face. The adrenaline was wearing thin leaving in its wake a dull pain and the urge to vomit. Her thighs were cut and tender from the mesh wire. Her hands had scrapes and bruises. For someone who hadn’t been in a fight, she sure as hell looked like it. She knotted her hands together and stood in the living room unsure what to do. What could she do? She was knee deep in this hell hole with only Trigger to help her.

She couldn’t get comfortable, this wasn’t her place. She couldn’t relax; Trigger was here, with his masculine edges and damsel-in-distress saving graces. If it were anyone except Trigger she would have been at home, terrified out of her mind, albeit, at home, without him heating her blood.

Without him.

It didn’t take a genius to know how things were meant to play out. It was common in books, in movies, the lot. Trigger had saved her, in any thriller film she’d be throwing herself at him physically and emotionally. The hero appeal.

They’d have hot and steamy sex.

Oh god.

She bit her lip and keened a look at him through her lashes.

He took off his jacket and placed it over a stool. He wore a cotton fitted black top showing the shape of his upper body in an upside down triangle.

She could see the long ago boxer he might have been.
The Bronx.
He hadn’t wanted her to know, he’d slipped up. Maybe he was trying to protect her, himself. Probably it had something to do with whatever secret he was trying to keep, the same one the blackmailers were using against him. If he was protecting her, if he cared for her-

She banished the thought as soon as it came. Eve tried to imagine what kind of a past they could use against him. Hers had been purely association, the position of a victim, not a criminal. What if Trigger was a victim of his past too? What if he hadn’t meant to get caught up in this life? Eve couldn’t imagine his secret came from him being a hardened criminal. She couldn’t. Not the way he helped her, saved her without hesitation.

She turned back, biting her tongue in her resolve. Falling for her handler would be too dangerous and too dumb.

He took her hand, her fingers were numbed and not her own. He led her to the sofa. She sat and folded her legs and stared down at her knees. 

Trigger left to the kitchen. 

“Here, drink this,” he put a glass of water in front of her. His voice was gentle and full of authority, like the boss he’d once been. Good. She could handle this version of him. She chugged back the water. He disappeared again. “Eat this,” he put a plate of biscuits onto her lap.

She took a tentative bite from one of them. They were soft and melted against her tongue. Her stomach awakened in a growl. It took a while before Eve could process anything beyond food and drink; she managed the biscuits and the water.

“You don’t strike me as a biscuits kind of guy,” she finally said. Her voice was unsteady and so unlike the Eve she’d become of late. It was her old self. The terrified girl she used to be and all it took were some strange men running after her to undo all the confidence she’d built and send her back to the shy stuttering girl without a clue in the world.
Little Evee.

“Give it a minute. You’ll be fine,” his voice was so calm, intent and reassuring, she hardly recognised it. How could he be so cool in the face of danger? It was like the time she’d rebelled by screwing up her first day and the way he’d reacted gently rather than lashing out at her. He could master his emotions so well.

Eve didn’t register her surrounds until she looked up to find herself in the guest bedroom.

Trigger was bent over her. “Eve you need to rest.”

“How did I get here?”

“I brought you here.”

“Who were those men?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you’re past is catching up to you?”

Eve stared at him, their eyes locked, her mouth dried up. She’d connected the dots in slow succession; though in her mind she wished it wasn’t the case. Could she have prompted the return of her past? Think.
Think.
Her hand flew to her mouth, her heart accelerated.

The credit card. I used it at the station. It had to be.
How they’d found her address was unclear but it was the only thing she could go on.
It was the first domino. You brought this on yourself.

“Eve?” Trigger leaned down over her. “Don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re tired.”

“I’m wired.”

“It’s the adrenaline, it’ll wear off,” Trigger flipped the switch and it went dark.

“Please don’t go,” her voice was so desperate; she really had fallen back into her old self. The girl who was too afraid to do anything for herself,
that
girl.

Trigger came round the bed and sat down next to her. “I would never leave you,” he said.

Her cheeks heated suddenly, it felt so personal and so private and yet she was grateful for the dark. He probably didn’t mean it to sound like that, she couldn’t help look away. She was in a vulnerable state and Trigger was only trying to help, that was all. He was in the same mess as she was, they had a common ground.

Her erratic heartbeat took its time to slow to a more even tempo, all the while Trigger sat next to her, watching her as she got under the sheets. She wore her top and discarded her jeans under the covers.

“Eve,” she glanced up. “I don’t want to ask, I’m obligated to”-

“You want to know what the status is with me and Roman.”

He looked away for a moment. “Well,” he laughed dryly. “I can buy you some time with them.” His hand rested on hers. “Do you think it’s going to happen?”

“I don’t think so.” There was a silence between them. “Am I in trouble? Trigger I don’t know what to do. I don’t think it will happen anymore.”

“Don’t worry, it’s alright,” he pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It is?”

“Let me see what I can do, if there’s another angle I can get them to consider.”

“Do you have that kind of power with them?”

He laughed again. “No, I want to help you as much as I can, if I can.”

“Why? Why are you helping me so much? What about you?” she was very aware of his hand resting on hers, its weight gentle and warm. There was a comfort with Trigger she couldn’t fathom. He belonged to the blackmailers. He wasn’t one of them. But he did belong to them and yet he was also a victim, the great and powerful Trigger. The man who was always calm and considered and in control was so very not in control.

“I feel it’s my duty to help you.” Like a knight in shining armour. Eve’s heart caught as she thought of it. All this time she wanted Roman to fit that criteria when Trigger might be sitting there all along, doing what he could to help her, even if he couldn’t.

“Why are you trying to be so noble?”

Trigger turned away.

Eve reached out, her fingers skimming his cheek sending an electric current through her fingertips. Her pulse sped up. She’d never touched Trigger voluntarily. Never.

There was something so natural about it.

He took her hand. “Eve what are you doing?” he pushed it back down into her lap. Eve blinked away and bit her lip. His hands cupped her face before she could respond. “I don’t want to complicate things.”

“Neither do I,” her bottom lip quivered, her pupils dilated. Her heart fluttered. Everything was so confused. There was so much turmoil in her life. In theirs.

He pressed his forehead against hers, catching her breath.

“I wish things could be different,” his breath tickled her lips. “Sometimes I think of how it all happened. Even if you had never met Roman I know one thing for certain.”

“What?”

“You met me first.” Her breathing came out hard. “If it were only me,” he breathed. “If,” he laughed again. “You see I don’t want to ask the question in case I already know the answer. We’re brought together by circumstance.”

“I was brought to Roman by circumstance.”

Trigger pulled back and for a second there was a gap of warm air between them.

His lips pressed to hers before she could respond. One moment Eve was breathing out, the next she was inhaling his lips. They pressed against her in such sweet desperation. His hands cupped her face, pulling her into that kiss. Their lips melded for dire need. Urging on. He parted from her and breathed out hard. He pressed her into his chest.

Her head buried in his body. It was warmth, comforting reassurance.

He pulled back. “Eve you can stay here tonight.” She nodded in the dark. “I have a few things still to do. You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

Eve nodded as her head buried against his hard chest, a tear swallowing up in it. How could she complicate things so much more than she already had?

Oh Eve, you stupid girl
.