He smiles. One of those smiles that’s lined with sympathy.
He knows.
Guess it was part of my psych assessment.
“I can assure you, sir, nothing followed us here. My history won’t affect my work ethic or capabilities.”
“I’m sure they won’t. That wasn’t my reason for bringing it up.”
“Oh?”
“We have a connection to Serenity House, a shelter for women escaping dangerous situations.”
“I said I’m—we’re—fine.”
Fire blooms in my veins, a knot turning in my gut. Hell, I wish this face of mine wouldn’t change like a chameleon every time someone asks me something uncomfortable. I feel the heat as it creeps up my neck again. The only thing worse than fleeing with your life and only the clothes on your back is pity.
Cap holds a hand up, shaking his head softly. “No, not for support, to help others.”
“Ah, okay . . .”
My hands, a twisted mess of white knuckles, loosen in my lap.
“Hammond’s our liaison with the shelter. Ask him about it, he can connect you with Carlie Lamont. I’m sure she would be thrilled to have you or your mom part of the network.”
“Alright, thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“And Tennison. Following orders keeps your crew safe.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I stand, feeling dismissed as he waves me off while turning to face his laptop, and walk to the common room. With the buzz of the first callout fading, hunger pangs. Apparently I’m not the only one. The whole crew is in the kitchen, something delicious bubbling on the stove. Sanderson is stirring a large pot, swaying to the tunes blasting through the space.
Davies is setting the table as Owens and Hammond prep something that looks like salad, and is that...
I file in beside Hammond, determined to not make a huge deal of this morning in my head. The aroma from the huge bowl hits my senses. “Spicy rice?”
He slides his gaze to me but says nothing.
Owens leans behind him and smiles. “Absolutely. A crew special.”
“Chili is a staple around here, Tennison. Love it or starve.” Sanderson holds out the spoon.
“Um, okay.” I dip my finger into the sauce and pop it into my mouth. The liquid burns my fingertip, and then my tongue.
The spice hits a second later.
I cough from the heat of it, flinging a hand past my mouth. “Tu meke.”
“Hey what?” Owens says, screwing her face up.
I cough and laugh at the same time, my eyes watering. “Too much.”
Hammond picks up the rice and transfers it to the table. “Looks like it’s starve, then.”
Wow, alright mate.
This guy is sweet as pie under fire, pun intended, and cold as ice when we’re... not.
