Page 32 of Power & Punishment

MIA

“Hey, Keith. Sorry I missed your call. What’s up?” I ask, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder while I jimmy my door open. The damn lock is still sticking and the super refuses to do anything about it.

“It’s fine,” he says, the sound of a runaway keyboard filling the background. “I decided to take a look at those files again and I might be crazy, but I think I found something.”

“Really?” I ask, suppressing the urge to pump my fist in the air.

“Yes,” he replies, and the typing sound stops. “I think we should discuss it in person, though. The bug we found in DeLuca’s phone has me freaked out. I want to be careful.”

I walk past the light switch and walk directly into the kitchen. It’s late, and the overhead lighting in my apartment gives me a headache. I drop my takeout on the kitchen counter and lean against the fridge.

“That makes sense. Want to meet at the gym first thing tomorrow morning? I could use a sparring session.”

“That works,” Keith says before he pauses. Call it partner intuition, but I can feel him hesitating even through the phone.

“Everything okay, Richards?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

I freeze, hating the trepidation I hear so clearly in his voice. “No, I haven’t,” I say defensively, cringing as soon as the words come out of my mouth.

He sighs, letting the line go dead for a few seconds. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything. I promise I won’t be upset.”

“I know,” I whisper. Lying to him hurts, but I refuse to put him in harm’s way.

Keith clicks his tongue, clearly fighting back what he really wants to say, before settling on, “Just get some rest, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Night. Sleep tight,” I say smugly, remembering how he hates me saying that. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.

As soon as he hangs up, I toss my phone onto the counter.

I turn around to reach for the kitchen light when I catch a shadow out of the corner of my eye. It might be nothing, but I relax my shoulders anyway and calmly back away from the light switch before opening the fridge while simultaneously reaching for the gun still holstered safely under my jacket.

The fridge light kicks on, casting the small area in a dull white glow.

Before I can identify the intruder, I snap into action and point my gun toward the shadow.

“That’s no way to greet a guest.” Leo smirks, casually leaning against the entrance to my kitchen.

He doesn’t flinch at the firearm being pointed at his face. In fact, he looks eerily relaxed with his jacket nowhere to be seen and his sleeves lazily pulled up over his elbows. He’s not wearing a tie, and his hair is slightly mussed like he made himself comfortable a while ago.

“How the hell did you get in?” I ask, not lowering my gun. Instead, I click the safety off and let my finger graze the trigger.

Leo’s gaze lowers to my gun and then right back to my face. He’s completely calm and maybe even…amused.

That damn smirk on his face mocks me. It makes me want to shoot him just to prove a point. Of course I’d aim for somewhere safe like his leg. It won’t be deadly, but still enough to make him bleed and probably limp for a few days.

“You better lower that gun, Cara,” he says, his eyes twisting with a wicked thrill. “I’m getting a little too turned on and I can’t promise I’ll be as restrained as I normally am.”

I let out an ironic laugh that doesn’t contain an ounce of humor. “You trespassed into my apartment. Unlike you, threats are not my idea of foreplay.”

His smile widens more if that’s even humanly possible. “You’ve never been with a real man then.”

My breath hitches, but I grip the gun and widen my stance. “I’m going to ask one last time. How did you get in here?”

He smiles, taking a few steps forward and letting his fingers dust over the countertop. The closer he gets, the more the temperature rises, making my hands feel clammy.

Leo comes to a halt, almost kissing the barrel pointed at his face. He stares down the metal edge, not fazed by being close to death.