“What about Kisho's ability to see the future? Can't he focus and figure out who might betray them? He should be their ace in the hole.”
Mrs. Sharpe shook her head. “If it were that simple, you wouldn't be here. Kisho sees possible futures. Change one thing, and you change what may be into what may not be. He's also not at the point where he can call on his ability at will. His visions come at random. We're working on that, but it's slow going.”
The burden of responsibility settled heavily on Olivia's shoulders. Excitement turned to anxiety as she realized the scope of this project. But it's what you wanted. Something to break the doldrums of your daily life. Sex, psychics, and now danger. What could top that?
Mrs. Sharpe patted her knee. “I've said more than enough. Why don't you go for that run you wanted to take? Follow the path out of the garden. You'll be safe. The trail extends for a mile if you turn around once you hit the yellow marker. There are lights to guide you, should the sun set while you're out.”
Olivia frowned. “I didn't mention a run.”
“Didn't you?” Mrs. Sharpe raised her brows and said nothing more.
Disturbed, Olivia raised her mental shields. Though the woman hadn't confirmed or denied her abilities, according to Ava, Mrs. Sharpe knew things she couldn't know. Olivia could only hope her shield protected the secrets she worried the uncanny woman might see.
“Well then. Thanks for our talk.” I think, she said to herself and rose to her feet.
“Use tomorrow to gather your thoughts. Study the file inside and out. Know who you should be able to trust, so when the time comes, you can put them to the test. And commit the few faces we have of Montaña's crew to memory. I have a feeling he's going to be more of a menace than we'd counted on.”
“Terrific.” Olivia still wasn't sure about the dangerous aspect of this job, but she didn't like the thought of Jesse— or any of the men—heading into peril when they could avoid it. She said good-bye to Mrs. Sharpe and headed to her room.
Stress suddenly felt like a second skin. After changing into a jogging suit and pulling her hair into a ponytail, she finished tying her sneakers and headed downstairs and out through the garden doors. To her relief, she didn't run into anyone. Spending the day in her room had ensured her privacy and the quiet to study what she could of that massive folder. She wasn't ready to face Jesse and the others yet, especially after Mrs. Sharpe's bombshell.
Olivia did a quick stretch and began running. The dirt path stretched several feet on either side of her, so she didn't feel hemmed in as she ran. The exercise helped clear her mind of the web of fear and tension. Talk about problems on top of problems she needed to face.
One, she had no training for this type of thing. It was a bonus that she spoke the language, but that wouldn't save her from a bullet. Two, how the hell was she expected to keep up with the best of the best? The rumors she'd heard about Circs mentioned men who never tired. Five minutes into her run, her lungs ached and her legs pinched. Not good.
Three, what she'd read about Montaña made her cringe. Sadist might as well have been his middle name. Brutal but efficient, he didn't suffer fools or traitors. His men remained loyal for fear of torture and then death. And Mrs. Sharpe wanted her to fly down to Brazil to be closer to the man. Terrific. She sped up. Four, for a woman facing a major crisis, she felt like a horny teenager. She'd happily settled into celibacy several months ago, determined to stop falling for Mr. Wrong because she couldn't keep her hormones in check. She thought she'd conquered her bad habit of falling for handsome men with little character. Until she'd allowed a gorgeous man she barely knew to give her oral sex not more than four hours after they'd first met.
What kind of woman did that?
She ran faster, sprinting to the yellow sign ahead of her. The turnaround point.
What really stuck in her craw, though, wasn't the danger of the assignment, the potential for disaster, that she might hurt the team, or even her unsuitability to perform, but that Jesse might think her easy.
She hadn't explained to him how unlike herself she'd been with him. She just wasn't like that. Sure, she liked sex, but she normally lasted at least a few weeks before succumbing to temptation. She'd work hard to earn an orgasm or two, then let go of her boyfriends after sharing too many of their emotions. Boredom would set in. Disgust that she couldn't break out of bad habits, especially when she could see going into a relationship it would end badly. Yet here she was, once again, mooning after a hunk way out of her league. Go figure.
She turned around at the sign and slowed down, her lungs burning. At least Jesse seemed to be circumspect about what they'd done. Probably because he hadn't had his “happy ending” yet.
Even as she knew she unfairly condemned him, she couldn't help herself. Every time she'd wished one of her Prince Charmings would be different, he'd turned into a frog. And none of them had ever churned her up so much inside. She barely knew Jesse, and she couldn't stop thinking about him.
She wondered what he was really like, beneath the muscles and the looks. Would he remain as nice once he had what he wanted? When would he show his true colors—when he didn't get what he wanted? And what did he want? Sex, sure. But anything else?
So intent on her thoughts, she literally ran into the man on her mind.
“Shit!” She bounced off him and would have fallen on her ass if he hadn't reached for her arm. Her heart raced, as much from the shock and the adrenaline rush as from her run. “Sorry.
Didn't…see…you…there.”
“My mistake. I should have called out. You seemed miles away.” He didn't sound out of breath. Despite the weather, he wore shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. At least this time he wore sneakers.
“Aren't you…cold?” She leaned over, trying to catch her breath, and placed her hands on her knees
“Nah. Tough skin.” He thumped his chest. “You okay?”
She drew in a breath, stood, and let it out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem. Actually I was looking for you.”
Her pulse picked up. Down, girl. “Oh?”
His gaze narrowed on her mouth before shifting back up to her eyes. “Yeah. We haven't talked much, not since last night.”
He just had to bring that up.
“Oh.”
“You're not, ah, mad at me or anything, are you? Because I swear I didn't plan on going d—I mean, I only meant to kiss you. You have the sweetest-looking lips,” he rasped, rubbing a thumb over her lower lip.
She stood as still as a statue, unable to move. The smart side of her told her to demand he back away and keep his hands to himself. She wasn't some floozy he could toy with. But the hungry side of her subtly leaned into his touch. When he dropped his hand, she licked her lips, telling herself they were dry and needed the moisture.
His eyes darkened, and he took a deep breath. “So. Right.” He exhaled. “I just… I didn't want to scare you away.”
“I'm not scared.” The stubborn woman within refused to acknowledge his power over her without putting up a fight.
“I am,” he admitted. “You're different.”
She scowled. “Thanks a lot.”
“No. I mean, you make it hard to think past wanting you.” He closed his eyes and opened them, a flush on his cheeks that completely devastated her. Handsome and vulnerable?
“I—oh.”
“Look, what the guys say about me, it's not true. I'm not some roving stud.” He frowned. “I have needs, sure, but I'm not some idiot out to nail any piece of ass.” He paused and snapped his mouth shut.
She raised a brow, bemused by his lust that mingled with anger. At himself or at her? Oh wow. I'm sensing his emotions.