Page 2 of Covert Operation
And works out in the gym every night at midnight.
I’m not sure when he sleeps, but that’s not really my concern. My concern is convincing him to help me the way he helped Mona, the wife of Alaskan Security’s owner. I overheard her telling my sister Sadie how Zeke taught her to defend herself, both with her bare hands and with weapons. Ever since, I’ve made it my mission to accomplish some semblance of the same thing. It’s the first step toward completing the promise I made. I just have to take it.
But it’s even harder than I imagined.
From a distance, Zeke is unnerving. But now that I’m planning to actually speak to him, he’s downright terrifying.
The man is giant. All bulging muscle and hard angles. He’s a full head taller than me and broad enough Sadie and I could both hide behind him without being seen. He frowns more than he smiles and carries himself with a confidence only a man who knows just how deadly he is can.
And I like it. If anyone can teach me how to be just a tiny bit of a badass, it’s the scariest man in Alaska.
And Zeke definitely qualifies as that.
That’s also what has me hesitating. Lingering in the doorway, watching as he lifts a weight that’s likely equivalent to mine with one hand, curling it up to reveal the curved bulge of his gigantic bicep. I stare breathlessly as he lowers it and brings it back, my gaze focused on the slightly sweaty sheen of his tanned skin as it stretches across muscle and sinew.
I can’t peel my eyes away until he’s finished his reps and lowers the dumbbell to the rubber mat covering the floor. It’s only then that I give myself a mental shake. Noticing his muscles or the surprisingly graceful way he moves is not why I’m here.
Unfortunately, when my focus finally lifts to the mirror in front of Zeke, I discover I’m not just watching him. He’s watching me back.
And it makes me forget everything. The reason I’m here. The questions I’m supposed to ask. My name and address. I might even forget how to breathe, because right now, with Zeke’s laser sharp focus fixed entirely on me, my head starts to swim. After working so hard to escape notice for nearly a year, his undivided attention is overwhelming.
It also causes a strange fluttering in my belly.
Zeke slowly stands, his eyes holding mine in the mirror. I manage to pull in a little air as he turns, the momentary break in his attention allowing me to breathe. But only for a second. As soon as he’s facing me, I’m once again all he looks at. And my lungs once again forget how to do their job.
His steps are slow and measured as he comes my way. “Is something wrong, Savannah?”
Jesus Mary and Joseph. He knows my name. Maybe I haven’t been flying as far under the radar as I thought.
I lick my lips, trying to find a little moisture in my suddenly dry mouth. “Nothing’s wrong.” I swallow hard as he continues closing the gap between us.
I came here to talk to him. To beg him to help me. But now that I’m faced with the reality of what that will entail, words failme. Thinking fails me. Even my eyelids don’t seem to remember how to blink, leaving me staring at the broad expanse of his bare chest.
A chest that will be very close to me on a regular basis if this conversation goes as planned.
Zeke stops a few feet away from me, head tilting as his blue-gray eyes move over my face. “Do you need something then?”
“Yes. I need something.” I’m parroting, and I need to snap out of whatever stupor I’m in. Oddly enough, it’s not panic shutting me down this time. It’s something else—that same foreign sensation swirling around my belly—but I can’t quite put my finger on identifying it.
Probably because my whole brain has shorted out.
“Okay.” Zeke’s deep voice is calm and patient. “What can I do for you?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Why is this so hard? I’ve been watching him—to a point some people might consider stalking—for the better part of six months. Ever since I decided to find a way to take back control of my life. His presence shouldn’t bother me like this.
Then again, while my focus has been on him, his has never been on me.
“Umm.” I clench my hands into fists, squeezing so tight my nails poke into my palms. The sting seems to rattle my brain enough to wonk some sense back into it. “Mona said you taught her how to protect herself.”
Zeke tucks his chin in a nod. “I did.”
My next breath is shaky. Quivering the way my insides are as I force out the question I came to ask. “Can you do that for me?”
Zeke studies me for a few long seconds. “You want to learn how to protect yourself?”
I nod, trying not to wilt under his scrutiny.
His thick brows pinch together slightly. “Why wouldn’t you ask Jamison or your sister to teach you?”