God, I fucking hope so.
I give her a nod, manage a gung-ho smile, and exit through the glass door.
“Hey, Malik,” I hear, instantly recognizing Anna Tate’s voice. I turn to see her coming off the freight elevator, carrying a somewhat largish box that doesn’t seem to be weighing her down, but still seems awkward. She’s wearing a slim tweed skirt in a brown color, a cream sweater that fits her frame all too well, and high-heeled leather boots. Her golden hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks fashionable and young with her entire life ahead of her. She doesn’t seem like a widow at all. Instead, she appears to be a beautiful woman in the prime of her happy life.
Without thought, because it’s how I was raised, I move quickly to take the box from her arms. For a moment, she doesn’t let it go, and our eyes connect.
“I have this,” she insists, giving it a little tug.
“Is it top secret?” I ask, not releasing my hold.
“No,” she replies with a frown.
“Then let me carry it for you.” I tug it out of her grasp, trying to ignore her worried expression as it becomes clear she’s not sure I’m physically able to carry the box.
I actually find that adorable and touching at the same time.
“Got most of my strength back,” I offer, and she blushes. “I mean… I’m not able to pick up buildings or anything, but I’m starting a new strength program today, so that will be coming soon.”
“Well, that’s good,” Anna replies with a smile, the blush fading from her face. “Because Kynan has a project he wants you to help me with. All the boxes are up on the fourth floor, and they need to come down.”
“A project?” I ask curiously as she moves past the end of the stairway over to the glassed offices on the opposite side of the building. I recognize Kynan’s office, but he’s not inside. Anna leads me into the one right beside his. Much smaller than the boss’s, but it’s clearly strategically placed so she’s close by should he need her.
“Dozer has created a matrix database that will collect all of our information on past cases, analyze it with algorithms or some other witchy magic, and help make predictions on future cases. You and I have the glorious honor of figuring out what data is relevant, then inputting it into the system.”
No shit. I had met Dozer when I first came to work here, and he was present at the get-together for drinks the night before I flew out to Syria. He’s like super-freaky smart. Word is Kynan stole him from NASA, so I can’t say this project surprises me.
Anna motions to the floor. “Just set it down somewhere. There are five more boxes that need to come down, so let’s go get those.”
“I’ll go get them,” I say, turning back toward the door.
“Sweet,” she replies. “Then I’ll take you out to lunch as a welcome back where we can talk about how we want to work the project between us.”
I stumble over that invitation, because it seems weird. This is an office environment, so I’m not used to the whole “Let’s go out to lunch” thing.
I most certainly don’t want to sit down and talk over salads with the wife of the man I helped get killed.
When I look back over my shoulder, Anna has squatted beside the box and is rummaging through it. She is oblivious to my unease. Somehow, that seems to loosen the tightness in my chest that seems to present itself whenever I run into her.
My stomach growls, making me realize I didn’t have breakfast this morning, so I figure one lunch can’t hurt.CHAPTER 6Anna“I just have to say thank you,” Malik says with a grateful sigh before taking a large bite of his sandwich.
“Why’s that?” I ask, picking mine up. I try to figure out how to get a portion of it in my mouth, but it does not open that wide.
“For not taking me to a restaurant that only serves salads and smoothies,” he replies after swallowing.
I grin over the thick Italian bread of a Primanti’s pastrami, stuffed thick with coleslaw and crispy French fries. “That’s kind of sexist.”
“No, it’s not,” he replies with a frown. “Kynan brought me out to lunch the first day I was back, and he took me to just such a place. Granted, I’m happy for any food these days, but damn… salad just isn’t my thing. Never has been.”
Laughing, I study my sandwich. “Well, I love Primanti’s. It’s one of my favorites in the Burgh, but it’s definitely not first-date food.”
Malik snorts, nodding with agreement. He takes another huge bite, a strand of coleslaw left hanging from the corner of his mouth. I resist the urge to reach across the table to use my finger to push it into his mouth. I’m not sure what that feeling is. It’s not an attraction thing. Not quite a motherly one, either. Definitely not a sisterly urge, but it’s definitely rooted in tenderness for this man who has been through so much and survived. He deserves hundreds of Primanti sandwiches if that’s what he wants.