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Her only response was to pull off both gloves and reach for the water bottle next to her on the bench. She took a long drink then stood up as if he hadn't been there at all and headed for the locker room. It was enough to shred the last frayed thread of patience. Without thinking it through, he grabbed Gidget's elbow and stopped her in mid-step.
"There's a good chance her life—and that of a sixteen year old girl—is at stake if he finds them. If you know anything that might help..."
He followed her gaze down to his hand on her arm. Shame, cold and heavy, sank down on him and he let go. Neither of them moved. The request hung in the air for a second before crashing to the ground and imploding upon impact.
"Gidget, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" He fumbled for a proper apology. "I know you've been through a lot and I shouldn't have—"
"Green shorts," she said, her voice raspy and low.
His brain tried to catch the secret meaning behind her first words. "What?"
"Getting out of the ring now. He earns extra cash running errands for Bianca. He helped run things over to Corsair Club for the engagement party."
Fuck. Here he was stuck in his own head when he should have been thinking about what was going on in hers. You're a real asshole, Camacho.
"Thanks, Gidget."
She dipped her chin in a sharp nod. "Don't let them get her."
Then without another word, she tucked her arm in close to her side to avoid touching him and walked past him to the locker room.
He pivoted to get a look at the fighter in the green shorts who'd just taken off the padded face protection Kelvin insisted fighters wear when sparring. The kid was young, with an eager face and a cocky grin. That wasn't what set off Isaac's danger alert though—it was the woman strutting across the gym in high heels and an ass-hugging blue skirt that made his cock immediately stand up and say hello.
What in the hell was Tamara Post doing downstairs in the Devil's Dip Gym?
As if his gaze had weight, she brought her hand to her cheek and turned. The second she spotted him, her blue eyes narrowed and she made a sharp turn to come straight at him. Fuck. She was a sight to behold. The ice queen melted a little more each time they met. Pretty soon she'd be blazing and he couldn't wait for that. He had every intention of going up in flames with her.
She stopped in front of him, exasperation—and maybe a little of something else—turning her cheeks pink. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Because she had no business being in anon-secure location until they knew for sure that Wolczyk had given up on her being in Fort Worth and reported that misinformation back to Fane.
"I work here."
"Oh really?" He asked, letting some of his own frustration—about her safety and otherwise—leak into his tone. "Are you picking up some extra hours in the gym? Looking for a sparring partner?"
There is was. That spark of something extra chipping away at her frozen exterior. But the moment he spotted it, she managed to transform her features into that damned frosty mask of hers that didn't give away a thing about the woman hiding behind it. Instead of fiery, her gaze turned bored. Instead of a heated flush in her cheeks, she lifted her chin a few haughty inches. Tamara was gone and the impenetrable ice queen back in place.
Without another word, she turned and sauntered over to the ring where the fighter in the green shorts was downing a bottle of water.
"Bryson." The smile she gave him was anything but glacial. It was downright friendly. "You helped out Bianca with the engagement party right?"
The fighter nodded his head, a cocky grin on his face like he even stood a chance. "Yeah, I took the centerpieces over for her."
"Did you get anyone to help you carry it out?" Tamara asked.
Isaac knew exactly where she was going with this. Looked like someone had been busy while under lockdown in the B-Squad offices. He had to admire her determination to be in control of her own destiny, even as he realized it was going to make keep
ing her safe that much harder.
"Nah." The fighter flexed like only an idiot twenty-year-old did in front of a hot chick. "I can carry a lot more than a couple of boxes. If it wasn't for forgetting to take my keys out of my pocket before I went outside I would've been able to get them into the car on my own too."
Tamara tensed. It was just the slightest tightness in her jaw and it disappeared almost immediately, but he caught it. The urge to pounce on the kid and shake him until all the details rolled out had Isaac by the balls, but he resisted. Tamara was working her source like a pro. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was a B-Squad agent instead of the office manager.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Dude got out of a Prius and held the boxes while I got my keys out." The utterly-clueless-and-in-need-of-a- smack-to-the-head Bryson said. "They didn't get messed up did they?"
"No." Tamara patted the fighter's forearm.
