All eyes shot to Alex. At least she wasn’t the only one with concerns.
“I’m bigger than I was back then. I’ve put on thirty pounds of muscle. I’m going to wear colored contacts, and I’m taking my hair down to a buzz cut. It’s a fuckload grayer than it was back then, and I used to keep it much longer and perfectly styled.”
Because appearance meant something in the Bureau. Alex had been climbing the ladder, and Eve had encouraged him. She’d loved the way he looked in a terrifically fitted suit. And he was right. None of those suits would fit him now. He was far too muscular. “I think it’s a risk.”
“One I’m willing to take, but you know as well as I do that attitude and perception are more important than actual looks. I don’t carry myself the way I used to. On a cursory glance, Evans likely won’t notice me, and the people running his club won’t know me at all. Even with the press coverage, the Bureau made damn sure pictures of the unit didn’t get out. I’ll be fine.”
She wasn’t so sure, but it was obvious he couldn’t be talked out of it. And another problem crept into her brain like a weed she needed to pull. “Dom in Residence? So you’ll be running scenes and handling subs?”
She’d placed careful emphasis on the word “handling.”
“Are you asking if I’m going to have to fuck the subs?” Alex asked.
The rest of the men were watching them like they were a really well-played tennis match, their heads swinging back and forth between them.
“Is it too early for popcorn?” Adam whispered to Jake.
“Shh,” Jake hissed back.
Well, she’d started it. And they were a weird little family. If she wasn’t the one on display, she would have been sitting right next to Adam watching the scene play out. She was kind of used to doing her therapy in public and half naked. It was the way of their little world. “Yes, I’m curious about whether or not you’re going to screw half of Florida.”
Oh, she’d scored a hit with that one. A muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched up, a sure sign he was pissed. And his eyes narrowed and she just knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth would hurt like hell. “No, Eve. Just one. I’m going to be running very specific scenes with one sub. I’m taking a sub from Sanctum in with me. She’s a police officer so she understands undercover. I talked to her last night and she’s agreed to use her vacation time to come with me. I’ll only have to fuck her.”
Wow. Getting kicked in the gut would be way worse.
He frowned. “Eve, I shouldn’t have told you like that.”
She shook her head. “No. I was vicious and you responded. I understand.”
Getting Michael Evans was more important than anything. It always had been, and he wouldn’t share it with her. She stood up. She wasn’t needed here. Not at all. “I’ll let you finish up without me since I’m not involved in this op. I’ve got psych profiles to work up anyway. If you’ll excuse me.”
She got up, taking her coffee with her. Low-fat latte, no cream. That was her life now. Yep. She’d chosen this. If she was going to work up a profile on herself, she could write page after page. PTSD. Control issues. Just on the right side of OCD.
The subject is mired in the tragic events of her past. The subject is unwilling to even think about moving past her own pain and is content to remain passionless because she is afraid her passion was what cost her in the first place. She fears another loss of self though she can’t stand the person she’s become.
Subject will now die and be found in her spotless apartment weeks after her lonely demise without so much as a cat to witness the event because they shed on her pristine rugs.
In this therapist’s opinion, subject needs to get her shit together.
Yeah, she probably shouldn’t evaluate herself. She got damn snarky when she did that.
“Eve.”
She’d almost made it to her office. She didn’t turn around because she was pretty sure those pesky tears were starting up again. “It’s fine, Alex.”
She tried to step into her office, but he followed her, slamming the door shut behind him.
“You don’t really have a right to complain about where I sleep.”
She turned, no longer caring what he saw. “You’re on the wrong side of that door.”
“I don’t want to leave like this,” he said. His fists were clenched at his sides.
“Then don’t go. Let Ian handle it. He can play this role.”
“I can’t do that.”
There was another solution to the problem. “Then take me as the sub. If it’s going to be so easy to fool them, then I can put on a dark wig, and we both know how much weight I’ve lost and that I certainly carry myself differently.”
His face went stony. “I will not take you.”