Finally, there was something I could do for him—and that was clean and organize his office.
I started sorting through all the paper first. Wow, there was a lot of it.
Male voices echoed downstairs, followed by a few low chuckles. I moved to the window near the desk that overlooked the warehouse below.
Cole stood with five men of differing sizes, who were all wearing similar outfits to him—cargo pants, T-shirts, and boots. Some were black or green, others had a camouflage pattern. Afew of the men dropped large duffel bags of gear down on the concrete floor.
As Cole spoke, all the men listened intently. He was pointing at various things in the obstacle course, no doubt letting them know how the training would proceed.
Wandering back to the desk, I dropped into the chair. It creaked alarmingly but thankfully held. Cole must not sit in it because I was sure it wouldn’t hold up to his muscular body.
Turning back to the wasteland of paperwork, I got to work.
Soon, I’d pushed the sleeves of my long-sleeved T-shirt to my elbows, and was finally making progress sorting out the mess of paper. I’d re-organized the filing cabinet and was busy filing things in order.
Finally, I could see the desk.
Shouts and banging sounds from the warehouse made me jolt. I hurried to the window.
Cole and the men were racing up the stairwells and into the fake building. They were all wearing vests. Through a window, I caught a glimpse of Cole, holding a gun. He ducked, then ran, whipping the gun up to fire.
More shouts, and I saw one man stumble and grip the armband wrapped around his bicep. He rose, cursing.
“Damn, felt that shock.”
Cole stopped. “That’s the point. The stress vests are more realistic than paint balls for training. Try to move quicker next time, Rogers.” He shifted closer, still talking, and I guessed sharing advice. The other man listened and nodded.
I stayed there, watching the next exercise. I saw Cole take down three of the men. The way he moved—all strength and power—was intoxicating. Fluttering sensations filled my belly, and I pressed a hand there. A moment later, they disappeared deeper into the training course.
With a shake of my head, I turned back to the office. I had my own battle to win.
Once the office was tidy, I felt a flush of achievement. I finally opened my laptop and did some bookkeeping work for my clients.
In the kitchenette, I found some coffee, which I prayed wasn’t so old it would be awful, and made a pot. There was some shelf-stable creamer in the cupboard. I sipped my coffee and actually got through a lot of work.
A few times, my mind wandered to Ava-Jane and any other poor women Goodyear was holding captive.
“Cole and his friends will find them,” I murmured. “Hold on, Ava-Jane.” Somehow, someway, I vowed that Chadwick Goodyear would pay for hurting people.
Finally, I heard the voices downstairs change. The sense of urgency was gone, they were laughing. Moments later, I heard vehicles start up.
Boots clanged on the metal steps and Cole appeared. His shirt was dampened with sweat and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Why was seeing this guy hot and sweaty turning me on?
He scanned the office, his eyebrows winging up.
I rose and waved a hand. “Ta-da.”
For a moment, he stared, speechless. “Lili, you didn’t need to do this.”
“I wanted to. For once, I got to do something to help you.”
He strode closer and I smelled him—spice and healthy male sweat. I tried not to squirm.
“Sunshine…hell, there was like a years’ worth of mess in here.”
“Eleven months, according to your invoices.”
