He split his attention between her and the new guy. Although “guy” seemed an informal moniker for someone who held himself as if expecting to own the room’s attention. Not a con, then. Captain Derek Tyler? He’d been told back in New York to expect a man who brooked no bullshit, and the description fit. Most importantly, he wasn’t a threat to her.
Connor lowered himself back into his seat. He thrived on control. Always had. What she had inspired in him since entering the room didn’t compare to anything in his thirty years of experience. He’d watched the girl vacillate among terrified, curious, and confident so many times his head was still spinning. So many things seeming to war for precedence in her head…and he’d found himself wanting to battle them all. What would it be like to harness all that vitality?
Initially, she’d wanted him to back off. Her admission that she liked to “set things on fire” was meant to scare him away. Instead, his mental response had been, it’s a good thing I know how to put them out. He’d been doing it for the last two years. Cleaning up after his volatile cousin, who’d preferred to solve matters through violence. Guns, intimidation, fists. You name it. Connor’s life had been filled with violence. Images imprinted on his brain since childhood, then the navy. He’d fit seamlessly into the Brooklyn operation without a hiccup and he’d resented that. Resented that a place had been carved for him there all along, waiting for him to screw up and go the hell back where he belonged.
Resented how easy doling out pain had become. Feeling too easy, too…good. A numbing distraction from the direction his life had taken.
He’d found a way to get free of it, though. Finally. For that very reason, this pink-haired pyromaniac should not appeal to him. Chicago was supposed to represent a new start for him. For his ailing mother. The word “complicated” didn’t even begin to describe “she who still had not been named.” He had issues of his own to solve. He sure as hell didn’t have time for this. For her.
For Chrissake, she didn’t like to be touched. His hands were everything to him. Whether they were being used as weapons or to give a woman pleasure, they were always at the ready. Being on the receiving end of her come-ons without being able to touch would be pure torture. She tested his restraint while simultaneously demanding he exercise more than ever. No, he needed to set aside his fascination with her and focus on the job. This one would drive him straight out of his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t get what he wanted. He’d survived every time. He’d survive without having the girl beneath him. Probably.
But God help anyone else who tried to get her there.
Connor gripped the edge of the chair and reeled back the irritation produced by that thought. His attention landed on the presumed captain who’d interrupted them before he could get a satisfying taste of the girl. The man looked slightly perturbed, but the faint frown lines between his eyes gave Connor the impression he looked like that most of the time. He was splitting his attention between Connor and Fire Girl, looking more than a little fascinated.
“See something interesting, Captain?”
The other man took his time answering, opening up a manila folder and thumbing through some paperwork, although he looked suitably impressed by Connor’s deduction. “That’s how you talk to your new boss?”
“I do when he’s late.”
“I have a city to run.” He threw an irritated glance toward the door. “Not sure what everyone else’s excuse is, but I intend to find out.”
“Maybe they were delayed by your goons at the front desk.” The girl spun her chair around in a circle. “And I don’t have bosses. Merely oppressors.”
Derek didn’t blink. “You’re free to leave at any time, Ms. O’Dea.”
O’Dea. Connor tried not to show a reaction to that piece of information. Across the table, she tossed her pink hair and laughed. “If I wanted to leave, I’d be halfway back to Florida by now.”
“Yes, I’m aware of your specialized skill. It’s why you’re here.”
She spun around again. “I love when my reputation precedes me.”
Florida. Specialized skill. Connor didn’t have time to ponder what exactly Derek meant by that before another girl walked into the room. Marched, actually. She tucked her short jet-black hair behind her ears again and again, curious brown eyes landing on all three of them in the space of a heartbeat. “They took my laptop at the front desk. I want it back.”
“Have a seat, Ms. Banks.”
“Polly. Polly Banks.” she corrected, taking a seat beside O’Dea. “Since we were all blackmailed to be here, we should dispense with formality.”
“I like her.” O’Dea reached over and released Polly’s hair from behind her ear. “Can we keep her, Daddy?”