"Here, let me help," she says, moving toward me, but I don't need or want help. I'm still angry the entire mission got fucked up, and the last thing I want is her in here mothering me. But when she reaches for the cloth, I don't stop her. Seeing the way her eyes attempt to lock onto my wounds but still manage to bounce up to seemingly admire my toned muscles is comical and somewhat arousing.
She stands close and takes my hand gently, dabbing whiskey on the splits. Her fingers feel cool against my skin as she works carefully.
"What really happened tonight?" she asks.
"Police showed up at a location I was checking. We fought our way out… The knuckles are from something else. I'm just cleaning off blood from the gunshot wound on my arm."
Noemi's shoulders stiffen and she locks eyes with me. "You were shot?"
"Listen, it's nothing. You let me worry about this. I'm not dead yet."
"They're still injuries." She cleans another knuckle. "What happens to Sasha if you don't come home one night?" Her eyes return to my bloody knuckles which truly don't need her attention, but I respect that her nurturing nature won't shut off.Besides, she's a little flustered, and watching her cheeks tinge pink as her tongue flicks over her bottom lip a few times is cute.
"Nothing's going to happen, okay?" She's not asking for reassurance and I'm not giving it. Her questions are accusatory, bent toward making me feel guilty because I take risks. Well, that's just the life I live.
"Nobody can promise that when fights turn violent." She finishes wiping my hand and starts working up my arm. "Sasha needs a father who comes home every day and cares for him." With her work finished, she steps back, holding the bloodstained cloth in front of her clasped in both hands.
"Why did you come here?" I ask again, annoyed that she thinks she can lecture me. Some of her skills with children seem useful, but micromanaging my work flow won't ever be a thing I let her do—attractive or not.
"I need supplies for Sasha's lessons. Textbooks for his grade, workbooks, paper, pencils, art materials. He shouldn't fall behind."
"Make a list and give it to Lazar. You'll get everything." I wave her off and pick up the bottle of whiskey and drink a long pull straight from the lip.
"You'll buy whatever I ask for?" she asks incredulously. Her jaw drops and her eyes go wider.
"Anything he needs for education," I say, pulling my chair out and sitting down.
Noemi's eyes graze over my chest again so I tighten my core, push my chest out a fraction of an inch, just to make sure myrigid muscles catch her eye. If she wants to look, I'll give her something to look at.
"Yes. well…" Her throat works as she swallows and looks down at her hands still cradling the bloody rag. "That's very generous." Her tone has shifted now, and she sounds baffled but not ungrateful. To me, it sounds like she came in here thinking she'd have a fight on her hand and got completely taken by surprise. If I had to guess, Ms. Dragunova is aroused by me and she's a bit flustered and upset with herself for letting my body affect her.
"Is there anything else you need?" I ask, softer now and with a hint of suggestion in my tone. "Anything at all?"
Her eyes snap up to meet mine, and like a deer in headlights her pupils are blown wide and her eyebrows wide. Her lips are flushed darker than the color of her tongue, which again flicks over her bottom lip, and I smile at her, though my eyes narrow.
"Because I want you to be comfortable and have everything you need."
Noemi looks away sharply, then takes a few steps toward the desk and lays the cloth down. It's like she's ready to run, but I snatch her wrist and hold her there. My touch is very gentle, though she won't look at me, and I'm not trying to embarrass her or hurt her. I just want to make it very obvious to her that I've seen the way she's looking at me.
"Please tell me if there is anything I can give you or do for you to help you relax and settle in." My thumb brushes over her knuckles, deepening the blush on her cheeks by several shades.
"Uh, just… School supplies," she chokes out, and I smirk at the effect I have on her. Then she darts out the door like I've burned her with my gaze and I chuckle to myself.
Every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose, and Ms. Noemi Dragunova's attraction to me might just be the simple pleasure I get to enjoy for enduring the frustration life has dealt me by shifting so hard.
Whether she ever admits it or not, I know what she was just thinking, and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing how that would play out. But I have to focus on finding my target and eliminating him first.
After that, I can explore the spark of chemistry I just uncovered. I'll call that my reward for a job well done.
12
NOEMI
Sasha sits beside me at the dining room table with his drawing pad open in front of him, working through the arithmetic problems I've written across the top of the page. He chews on the end of his pencil while he thinks with his forehead furrowed in concentration. I watch him work through the first problem, carrying numbers properly and arriving at the correct answer before moving on to the next one.
"You're doing really well with these," I tell him, reaching over to point at where he's written his work neatly beneath each problem. "Your penmanship is improving too."
"You think so?" He looks up at me with those dark eyes that are so much like his father's. It's hard to stay objective about Fyodor when Sasha melts my heart so much.
