The Chaos Crew: Killer Beauty (Chaos Crew #1) – Chapter 13

I SAT in the basement apartment with only Talon and his silent stare to keep me company.

Had it been the cookies that’d convinced the four men that I was now safe with just one guard, or maybe my willingness to throw the jewelry back to its rightful place? Whatever the case, they’d left right after dinner, and I felt three times less suffocated by masculinity as I leaned back on the well-worn sofa.

Unfortunately, their loosened security didn’t get me closer to my goal. I needed to go and see the contact who’d sent out a message to me, and it wasn’t like I could slip past Talon’s penetrating gaze.

She must know something important, or she wouldn’t have reached out like that. But I needed to go alone. No way were the cops letting up on my supposed protective detail completely.

Sitting for long periods had always made me irritable and impatient. Being watched by a brooding man with icy blue eyes—eyes that matched his cool demeanor and impervious personality—only amplified my restlessness. I couldn’t find the people who’d murdered the household while I was stuck in here. All I could do was wait until I got an opportunity to escape that I was sure I could take advantage of in my injured state.

My eyes caught on the punching bag across the room that I’d seen Talon working over to impressive effect. If I couldn’t go anywhere, I could at least put my body in motion. I shouldn’t let my body go soft while I lounged around here.

I only gave myself a moment to contemplate my injuries before standing. After grabbing an elastic from my bag in the bedroom to tie back my hair, I walked over to the bag. I ran my fingers down the leather surface, finding it just as heavy and sturdy as the punching bag I’d used for years in the household.

All the pent-up feelings that I’d held inside myself for the last few days were close to erupting, and this was the only way I’d be able to lessen the strain. Working out had always been a way for me to focus, to feel in control. With my bruised ribs and a sprained wrist, my exercise would be limited, but I could still make the best of it.

I turned my back on Talon, refusing to let his unwavering gaze influence me as I worked out my frustrations. No doubt he watched me as I stretched in place, my ribs protesting. I pushed through the pain, knowing that it wasn’t as important as my need to feel in control of something in this apartment. The ache centered me and reminded me of my strength.

I did three rounds of floor work, eyeing the bag with each crunch. I had to improvise on some routines, unable to do a full sit-up with the rib pain that stabbed through me when I tried. My pushups, usually flawlessly executed, had to be one-handed, so I could only do half my usual reps. Every move was a fight through discomfort, but once I’d completed the first stage of the workout, I gave myself a satisfied smile. I’d won the battle.

Standing, I faced the punching bag. I closed my left fist in the way I’d been trained for years to do. My other wrist throbbed when I tried to flex it beneath the brace.

No problem. Noelle had seen that I was well-trained on both sides.

I threw my first punch.

My ribs protested as I shifted my body into the strike, but it felt good. A sliver of tension fell from my neck and shoulders. I mocked a right punch, stopping before my fist collided with the bag, and twisted left, allowing my full force to fall behind the blow.

I lost myself to the flow of my punches, allowing my breath to flow in sync with them. As my breathing accelerated, so did my fists. I allowed the memories of the previous days to sweep through me and strengthen my blows. The anger. The denial. All of the emotions swelled within me until my strikes became the only thing keeping me grounded. The feeling of entrapment became a song for my fists to use as guidance.

I switched to a few kicks, and Anna’s pain-stricken face drove my next strikes. When I returned to punching, a small part of me expected my fist to go all the way through the bag, destroying it with the frustration and grief tangled inside me.

A touch on the small of my back jarred me from my trance. I whirled with my fists up, one already flying out for a knockout blow.

Talon caught my left hand with his much larger fingers, guiding the momentum of it to the side of his face and forcing me to stumble to the side with the sheer force of the attempted blow.

I shook myself as I caught my balance, gritting my teeth in anticipation of a mocking criticism. To my surprise, I got the opposite.

“You’ve got good form,” Talon said, without showing a hint of emotion.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “I thought you’d already figured that out.”

He gave a subtle shrug. “You weren’t exactly focused on technique the one time I’ve seen you fight.”

Fair. I cocked my head. “Can I keep going?”

He nodded to my hands. “Your footwork is more suited for a dominant right hand.”

That came as no surprise. I might have strengthened my left side for the sake of practicality, but my right side had always been my strongest.

“Yes,” I said. “I imagine it is, considering I’m right-handed.” A little impressive that he’d been able to tell just by watching me for a while, though.

He considered the brace holding my stronger wrist captive. If only he knew the things that I’d done with my left hand alone. The guns I’d used to take lives. The knives I’d wielded against my opponents.

I was proficient with my left hand. That was all I needed.

“I can show you a couple of adjustments that would help you switch over,” he offered. “If you want.”

He may not have been expressive, but I caught the undercurrent of interest in his voice now. He was impressed. Maybe only as if I were a toy he could play with to see what it could do, but I’d caught his attention enough for him to give some kind of a damn.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Having seen him in action, I could tell he might have a few tips that would actually be useful. That was why I was still here, right? To use these men however I could?

I gave Talon a single nod. As he kneeled in front of me, I forced myself to hold still. He nudged one of my feet and then the other, adjusting their placement and angle just an inch here and there. His fingers brushed my calf before he straightened up, and even with the fabric of my sweatpants between his skin and mine, a quiver of heat shot up my leg.

When he stood, I lifted my fists and tested a punch. I felt the way my body moved in line, allowing just a little more power to fall behind the blow. I smiled and met his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Can I join you?” he asked, and I froze in place, not prepared for that question. He went on into my startled silence. “I have some punching mitts for practice. We can use those.”

I opened my mouth, closed it again, and shrugged. It’d be a welcome change from the punching bag—a new challenge. “Sure, why not?”

He grabbed the punching mitts out of a trunk against the wall near the punching bag and tugged them over his hands. Before he was fully prepared, I threw a punch, testing my form. The strike hit the padding over his hand with a loud thud.

Talon let out a grunt that might have been approving. “Good one,” he said, holding both mitts up between us.

I gave him a satisfied smile. “It should be.”

The breath that escaped his mouth could have almost been mistaken for a laugh. Almost. “You’re very sure of yourself when it comes to certain things, aren’t you?”

Right, I couldn’t forget that I was playing the role of Dess the abused daughter and girlfriend. But that Dess had still trained her ass off; she’d escaped the villains in her life.

I let my lips curve slyly. “This is the whole reason I’m still alive.” He had no idea how true that was.

Then I struck.

Talon was ready. He met my left-handed strikes with the gloves, and when I lifted my knee in an attempt to get an advantage, he whipped his hand down to stop the blow before it made contact with his gut.

He did leave a small opening with the gesture, though. With my free right elbow, I twisted and caught him in the ribs. A woosh of air left him as he bowed at the waist slightly.

I tried to press my advantage by getting in a jab to his jaw, but Talon had already recovered. He fended off each of my strikes with a precision I’d only seen before from people with a military background. That only strengthened my suspicion that he and Julius might have that background in common. I guessed it wasn’t so unusual for former soldiers to end up joining the police force. Similar lines of work, just different in scale.

Abruptly, Talon shook off the mitts and took a swing at me. My reflexes were well-honed enough that even in my surprise, I jerked out of the way. His fist narrowly avoided colliding with my face.

I sucked in a breath and took a step back, raising my arms defensively. Adrenaline thrummed through my veins, much more pleasant than the frustration that’d gripped me before.

“Oh, you think you can take me?” I taunted, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow and jumping from foot to foot.

“I know I can,” Talon said.

He lashed out again, so fast I had to duck beneath his arm, my ribs groaning in protest at the maneuver. He might not have been quite as bulky with muscle as Julius was, but that allowed him more speed—and he was fucking fast.

While squatting, I jabbed him in the stomach with a fist and then stood, aiming for his face. Talon batted my hand aside. He came at me with his full body weight and flying punches, and the only option I had was to run away—which wasn’t an option I was interested in taking—or to meet them head-on.

I blocked with my uninjured arm and kicked out at his thigh to create distance between us. It’d have been easier with two fully functional arms, but I’d make do with what I had.

I hadn’t gotten to spar like this in years. Even Noelle hadn’t been this much of a challenge recently. It was amazing. I could feel myself stretching, pushing harder to match my opponent, like I hadn’t since I was a teenager.

When I aimed another kick, Talon grabbed my ankle, twisting so viciously that I nearly lost my balance. He yanked me toward him and whipped me around before I could recover. One of his arms wrapped across my waist, pinning both arms to my side like he’d done when he’d caught me trying to break the window, and the other rested against my collarbone, too close to my throat for comfort.

My breathing shallowed as I recognized the danger. What did I know about Talon, really? He was in law enforcement and insistent on keeping me “safe,” but who knew how much of that was just a front? Maybe that was all Julius’s idea, and he’d rather get me out of the way so they could focus on their real work.

I jerked my body to break his hold, but his grip tightened. “Dess,” he said, my name a faint whisper of breath against my ear, “you might be more skilled than most, but you’re not better than me.”

It should have been fear that froze me to the spot, but I felt something else much more unexpected. The feel of his body pressed against mine sent a sudden flare of heat to my core.

With Blaze’s touchy flirting and gentle advances, I’d felt nothing more than annoyance and a jolt of panic at the associations that came with that kind of come-on. Talon’s dominating presence provoked a completely different sensation, something that made me want to grind against him in an embarrassing way.

I reined in that ridiculous urge and turned my head to the side, allowing my lips to hover a mere breath from his as I spoke. “What a testament to your skills: fighting and winning against an injured opponent. You must be so proud of yourself.”

All at once I was aware of his pulse thumping through his body against me, picking up in tempo. He wet his lips. How would it feel if he pressed that mouth against mine? Would they be as strong and firm as the lean muscles that pressed into my body, or would they be cold and sharp like his icy eyes and terse responses? What would it be like to have a man like this work over my body as skillfully for pleasure as he did in combat?

Would it be so awful to find out, if it was what I wanted and not something being forced on me?

My pussy outright throbbed. Talon’s gaze seared into mine, no longer so icy after all. In that instant, I thought I might actually get to find out.

Then his arms shifted around me, and his elbow tapped the most painful spot on my ribs. My head jerked down, a hiss of pain escaping me.

Talon let me go immediately. “Sorry.” He stood tall, the artificial light gleaming off his shaved scalp and chiseled features. Another flicker of heat flashed in his eyes before fading away.

It seemed like whatever had happened between us in that brief moment hadn’t only gotten to me.

I cleared my throat. “I’d like to try that again when I’m fully healed. I always appreciate a challenge.” I knew I could take him when I wasn’t held back by unwanted handicaps. He moved quickly and swiftly, but so did I.

“It won’t make a difference,” Talon replied.

“Who’s confident now?” I said, grinning.

But he didn’t reply, just picked the mitts off the floor and tossed them back into the trunk. Apparently sparring practice was over.

I eyed the punching bag, but I was bored with it now—and maybe I’d made some headway with Talon that would get me something else I wanted.

I set my hands on my hips. “So where did everyone else go while they left you to babysit?”

Talon didn’t look at me. “It’s official business.”

“Yes, I realize that. They’re still working on tracking down those pricks who murdered Anna and her family, right?”

He turned to face me then, his eyes narrowing. “Official. Business.”

“Buzzkill,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I might be able to help.”

“Stop,” he demanded.

“Are they looking at the crime scene again? I could check out the house itself, put on a more thorough disguise if you’re so worried. Maybe I’d—’

“I’m not talking to you about an ongoing investigation or making any decisions about your involvement,” he said, slowly and firmly. My heart sank. Every word felt like a new, sturdier wall he was erecting between us.

I thought I’d gotten somewhere with him, that he was starting to respect me.

“You can’t really think I’m incapable of contributing after the things I spotted around the property today,” I insisted.

He sighed and motioned toward the bedroom I’d been using. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

I gaped at him and folded my arms over my chest. “Excuse me?”

“Go to bed,” he repeated forcefully.

“That’s what I thought you said.” I took a step toward him, staring him down. “I don’t care if you’re a cop, a military man, or a damn alien. You will not order me around like that. I am not a child.”

His gaze darted down over my body, lingering for just a second on the curves of my breasts and hips. When he met my eyes again, my skin tingled with more unsettling heat.

“I’m well aware of that fact,” he said, in a tone that drew my eyes back to his mouth with the thought of the other uses it could be put to. Then it pressed flat before he said, “But I’m still telling you it’s time to turn in for the night. Our apartment, our say goes.”

I scoffed at him. “You and your whole damn team are insufferable.” But I didn’t really want to be out here with him if he was going to be such a prick about it. I spun on my heel and marched into the bedroom. The door closed with a kick and a thud.

I sank down on the bed. My gaze fell on the tote bag on the chair, and all at once my fingers itched to dig inside it for the stuffed tiger, to hug it to my chest as I curled up on the bed. As if I really were a kid again, trying to drift to sleep in my lonely rooms in the household.

But I wasn’t that kid anymore. What was wrong with me?

I lay down on the firm mattress with my back to the chair, but a ghostly impression of the toy tickled my arms as I tucked them in front of me. Some small part of me, one I squashed deep inside but that I couldn’t totally ignore, did feel like a little kid again. A confused, lonely kid far from home…

Even though this was the first time I’d been away from the household without knowing exactly where I was and what I was meant to be doing, something about that sensation was so familiar. How could that be?