I was going to kill him with my bare hands.
“Am I allowed to look over the evidence collected from Master Gee’s homes?”
“Of course. I was just looking out for you. You’ve done amazing things so far. This is the closest we’ve been to finding the leaders of the VSS in years. And I owe that to you.”
“Just doing my job.”
She told me where they were keeping the evidence. I thanked her and stood. I couldn’t sit here with rage roiling in my gut like a stormy sea. It was time to find Mal and show him exactly how a fragile, brittle, little, broken girl could kick his arrogant, bossy, meddling ass.
13
Smith
I foundhim in the training room working with some of the younger guards. The moves he demonstrated reminded me of karate, but with a lot more grappling and wrestling. I watched for about a minute, my rage building equally with my desire.
Why did he have to have his shirt off? Why did his body have to be so god damn perfect? And why was watching him kick these guys' asses making my pussy ache with dozens of very wicked images scrolling through my head like a never-ending porn movie?
Damn him.
I couldn't fuck him, so I focused on the rage.
"Get out!" I walked up onto the training mat and started taking off my shoes and socks. I glared at Mal as I bared one foot, then the other.
When the Viken fighters he was training looked up at him confused, I repeated the order. "Get out. All of you."
Mal turned to me slowly, the guards watching us closely, his voice irritatingly calm. "What are you doing?"
"I'm kicking your ass." I stuffed my socks inside my shoes and threw them off the side of the mat. In case he didn't think I was serious, I reached for the hem of my shirt.
"You heard her. Training's over."
Damn right it was. I pulled the shirt off over my head and threw it in the direction of my shoes. I had the S-Gen's version of a sport's bra on underneath, bright red, because I freaking liked red, and a pair of stretchy brown pants that wouldn't impeded my movement.
I'd never admit that I wore black for Mal, for his sector. The color matched his pants exactly. The big jerk. I could not believe I had been mooning over him last night while I was trying to go to sleep. Imagining all the ways I wanted him to—
No. He could take his muscled chest and six-pack abs and shove them—somewhere.
"This isn't necessary. I don't want to hurt you."
"It's very necessary." I danced away from his attempts to grab me and gritted my teeth. "It's been necessary since I stepped foot on this dumb planet. And you already did." I tried a quick jab, just to test his reflexes. And damn, but he was big. And fast. My fist wasn't even close to making contact.
Mal glared down at me. "Are we going to do this now?"
"Yeah." I smiled. "We are." It was all I could do not to lose my shit.
He looked me up and down with a gaze that told me he was just as frustrated and angry as I was. "I thought you were smarter than this."
It was just like him to throw insults around.
I was done with his bullshit. I leaped at him, swinging my fist at his jaw. I was close enough to see the shock on his face as my knuckles grazed his cheek. I tried to swing again, but he blocked my strike and took a step back.
"Smith, you don't want to do this."
"Oh, but I really, really do." I had years of martial arts training, black belts in more than one discipline. I was fit and I was fast. And I couldn't land a single freaking blow.
I tried roundhouse kicks, front kicks. sidekicks. All blocked. I went for his eyes, his throat, his groin. Blocked. He was toying with me. Unless I really wanted to hurt him, which I realized I just couldn't bring myself to do, all I as doing now was using him as a practice dummy. A tall, strong, sexy idiot with no brain cells, practice dummy.
It was a mistake, I knew it before I did it, but I had to get my hands on him, on his skin. I needed to hurt him, just a little, because he'd hurt me. A lot.
