He needed something to do with his hands or he was going to go balls to the wall, strip, and join her in that stupid shower. In the kitchen he made a pot of coffee and filled a travel mug for her.
Mr. Domestic. That’s me. He couldn’t remember doing anything like this for anyone else.
The creaking of wood snagged his attention. He turned, watching as Evie marched down the stairs; damn it, she was once again so beautiful his chest began to ache. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, and her cheeks were bright from the heat of her shower. She wore the garments he’d selected, and looked young and innocent and—
Not for him. Never for him.
MICHAEL. JOB.
He gripped the kitchen counter with tense fingers.
“What?” she asked, adjusting the purse strap crossing over her middle.
“Nothing,” he croaked. To distract himself, he used his power to tug that strap over her head, allowing him to grab hold of the bag.
“Hey!”
He dug through the contents. “A headlamp, compact, eyedrops, pyre-gun, superglue, brass knuckles, wet wipes, four rings, a mini flare gun, and a whistle.” As he spoke, he held up each item. “Some of this stuff I don’t even recognize.”
“Give me that,” she said, snatching the purse away and returning it to its rightful place.
“Why a headlamp?”
“Why not?”
Fair enough. He pushed the travel mug in her direction.
She arched a brow, suspicious. “You made this for me?”
He returned to gripping the counter, the granite cracking, and nodded.
“Well.” Her frown had nothing to do with anger but everything to do with confusion. “Thanks. I guess.”
“Not a morning person, sunshine?”
A glint of contrition in her eyes. “There are people who would tell you I’m not an anytime person.”
“Well, those people just don’t know you.”
Her jaw dropped, and she gazed at him with astonishment.
Yeah. He’d just astonished himself, too. Time to move on. “You ready?”
“I need one more minute to send Michael everything we’ve acquired from Star’s, and the Lucky Horn,” she said. “I know he plans to stay at the boathouse another day or two, and he’s got nothing but time on his hands. He can let us know if he finds anything else that’s useful.”
When she finished, Blue led her to the garage.
“Let’s take my SUV,” she said. “It’s not registered in my name, so it’s my in-case-all-hell-breaks-loose vehicle. A must-have for any agent of our generation.”
“Perfect.”
During the drive, he remained on alert for any tails, and even took several wrong turns, doubled back, and went in circles. No one attempted anything nefarious.
If that changed, the car’s sensors would know and alert him. More than that, the windows were made of shield armor, and the metal body was impenetrable. He could relax. If only for a little while.
“How did yesterday’s conversation with Agent Gutierrez go?” he asked.
“It didn’t. He wasn’t there. And rather than deal with anyone else, I left.”
“Good call.”
“Yeah.” She twisted her jeans at the knees. “Hey, Blue?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you created SHOW?”
He stiffened. He didn’t like that she knew. Hadn’t wanted to alter her opinion of him that way. “How did you find out?”
“You checked the website from my computer and the data streamed to my phone.”
“So? I’m not mentioned on the website.”
“Maybe I did a little digging.”
He forced his body to relax. “It’s no one’s business, Evie.”
“I know.” A suspended pause before she whispered, “I’m Anita Huginkis, a longtime donor.”
He was surprised. He was impressed. He was heart-warmed. His foul mood suddenly lifted. “I knew that was a fake name, but I checked Miss Huginkis out, and her background seemed legit.”
“Yep, I’m that good.” Preening, Evie fluffed her hair.
Grinning, he admitted, “I’m Justin Sider.”
She snorted. “Just inside her? Nice. A few years ago, I was Sherwood Lovett.”
“Holden Mylode.”
“Nealanne Licket.”
“Iva Woody.”
She burst into laughter, and he marveled anew at the beauty of her. Eyes bright. Cheeks aglow. She was the epitome of radiance, flooding the dark places inside him with light.
Need to make her laugh every day for the rest of her life.
Rest of her life? Don’t be ridiculous.
When she quieted, the tension was so thick, he doubted a knife could cut through it. He was turned on, verging on desperate.
“Ever been to No Man’s Land?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No. You?”
“Yeah.” There, the air was sharp from ongoing acid rains, and stung the skin and nostrils. Humans had moved into the city, out of the country lands, decades ago, so several alien races had then moved into the abandoned areas and taken over. “I would have guessed you’d worked out here with Eden. You guys are close, and Michael’s always sending her on the worst jobs . . . Can I ask you something personal?”
After a slight pause, she said, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
Here goes. “What happened to Claire?”
Sadness and remorse filled the vehicle. “Blue . . .”
“Still not ready to talk about it?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” she admitted.
The wind began to beat against the car, even throwing pieces of gravel into the hood. Grime thickened the air outside as the paved road gave way to dirt.
Unsure why he was so determined to get her to open up to him, especially now that he’d decided to keep things friendly, but unwilling to back down, he said, “Why did your mom and Michael split?”
“She used to work for him.”
He nearly swallowed his tongue. “Michael dated a subordinate?”
“Yes, and it was quite the scandal in their day. She got pregnant and he refused to marry her. I think deep down she wanted to punish him for it. So she packed up and returned to her family in Westminster.”
“What about Claire’s father?”
“I was a year old when she married him, and Claire came two years after that. He stuck around till just after my sixth birthday. I was devastated by his abandonment. He was a good man, sweet to Claire and me, and our only real source of doting.”