Page 62 of Flash Point

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Liv returnedto the Blackwell complex later the next morning and suffered through the same security measures as the previous day, minus signing another nondisclosure agreement.

Anticipation replaced her irritation when she spotted a runner along the road to the Annex.

Please be Zeke. Don’t be Zeke. Please, please be Zeke. DON’T BE ZEKE.

As per usual, her mind roiled in conflict when it came to the BARS team leader. Anger about his high-handedness and his inability to keep a secret still simmered in her veins.

But those thoughts were not the ones causing her heart to break-dance inside her chest as she drew closer to the runner.

He wore dark gray shorts, and his bare torso glistened with sweat. Sinew stretched and contracted across his back with each pump of his arms. Muscled calves carried his six-foot plus body at a fast clip, even though he must be at the end of his run rather than the beginning.

Hearing her approach, the runner turned his head, and Zeke Blackwell’s dark eyes penetrated her windshield, her sunglasses, all the way to that secret part of her that yearned for danger, ached for recklessness.

She glanced at Brodie, who slumped in the passenger seat, his mouth parted as sleepy breaths see-sawed in and out. Halfway to Steele Ridge, he’d fallen asleep while playing his video game. She had saved his tablet before it slipped from his grip and laid it on his backpack in the footwell. But he still wore his noise-canceling headphones.

Slowing to a walk, Zeke shifted to the left side of the road and removed a white earbud. “Morning,” he said, around a heavy breath.

The height of her SUV put them at eye level, allowing her to idle alongside him as he continued moving, cooling down. “How was your run?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Damn, he was gorgeous. Back, side, front—every angle tempted the eye to explore and enjoy. She had never been as thankful for a pair of protective sunglasses in her life.

He peered inside, saw her son, and matched her tone. “As long as ever.”

“You don’t enjoy running?”

“Do I look like a masochist?”

Reaching into the tote bag tucked behind Brodie’s seat, she pulled out an unopened bottle of water. “Here.”

“You sure?”

“I have another one.”

He accepted the bottle. “Probably have a damn case in there.” He twisted off the cap and chugged a third of it down. “Thanks.” He swiped a hand over his sweaty brow. “Got a towel in that thing?”

“No, but I have a spare T-shirt.”

Even though his body stayed in motion, a stillness passed over him. Then he shrugged. “That’ll do.”

It was Liv’s turn to hesitate. She hadn’t been kidding about having a spare shirt, but she never thought he’d accept it to wipe the sweat from his face. The action, one she could so clearly see in her mind’s eye, seemed far too intimate.

Even so, she found herself digging into her bag once again and retrieving the article of clothing. “Who are you avoiding?”

His big hand reached in and took the folded square of white cotton from her. “What makes you think I’m avoiding anyone?” He blotted his eyes and swiped his face before stuffing the now damp cloth into his shorts pocket.

“The dew point must be in the mid-sixties, it’s nearing noon, and you’re running outside.”

A muscle rippled along his jawline. “It was time to leave my team to their work.”

Like with Cameron, she had detected hints of tension between him and his brothers the previous day. Considering his frequent bouts of dictating her movements, she wondered if they suffered under the same treatment.

“They don’t like you in their business?”

His thick brows clenched together. “According to them, I have control issues.”

“Do you?”


Tags: Tracey Devlyn Paranormal