Page 14 of Vicious Temptation

I reach for my bottle, but she’s quicker, pulling it out of reach.

“You’re really fucking huge, Thiago. Do you live at the gym?”

I shake my head as she hides a smile behind the rim of the bottle.

“I wouldn’t say I live there. I like knowing my body can do what I ask of it. I like to be ready.”

“Ready for what? War?”

“I hope not.” I tip my head toward her. “I’d rather spend years preparing for something that never happens than need those years and not have them.”

She takes another sip before nodding. “I guess I can respect that,” she says, looking away from me. “And I heard sitting behind a desk can be life or death.”

I catch another smirk she tries to hide.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Maybe.”

I’m still smiling when she drains the bottle and steps off the stool, heading toward a side door. She doesn’t ask me to follow, but considering she hasn’t kicked me out yet, I take my chances. We’re halfway across the room when it hits me that I haven’t thought about the assignment in several minutes.

That realization puts my attention back where it belongs.

I take in the space as we enter the garage. Bright honeycomb lights glow overhead, reflecting off the gunmetal epoxy floor. Three custom builds sit lined up near the doors I noticed earlier, and off to the right, a black Demon rests on a lift, stripped down enough to tell me it’s in the middle of a rebuild.

Remi heads straight for the cars without checking where I am. For the first time tonight, she's not watching every move I make.

“So you do know your way around an engine. I’m impressed.”

She rolls her eyes again, but the smile stays as she walks past me. “I’m insulted you doubted me in the first place. You think I’d be out in the rain under the hood for fun?”

“No, I suppose not.” I trail after her. “Is this what you do? Fix cars?”

“I don’t own a public garage or anything. This is for me.”

Her hand glides over a bright green Supra.

“That’s one hell of a car. And that GT-R back there...whew.”

“I brought this one back from the dead a few years ago,” she says. “But it isn’t mine. I’m just keeping her safe for someone I care about.”

I don’t ask who. The way she touches the car tells me enough.

This is the part Elena’s file couldn’t give me. I knew where Remi lived, where she worked, who she spent her time with, and enough of her history to recognize the names that mattered. But standing here with her is already showing me how much simple words on paper can leave out.

“I think your shirt is dry enough now,” Remi says.

“Kicking me out, huh?”

“You can leave on your own, or I can help. Your choice.”

That sounds more like the woman who held me at gunpoint less than two hours ago.

I nod once. “Message received.”

Five minutes later, I’m standing beside my truck, turning the night over in my head. We didn’t exchange numbers, she didn’t invite me back, and she still doesn’t trust me.

She has no reason to.