Caid dropped his bag on the floor the second he stepped foot into his apartment and immediately went to get an ice pack out of the freezer. That woman had beaten him hard, and while he wasn’t ashamed to admit it to her, he still preferred not to have any evidence of it when it came time to go into the office tomorrow. Last thing he needed was having to explain why he was sporting bruises.

“That’s the stuff,” he said as he placed the pack on his side. He wondered what had caused her to get so wound up. His sister had suffered from panic attacks, still did sometimes, so he knew how to recognize them and knew how out of control they could get if you didn’t find a way to channel it.

His sister’s go-to was knitting, and apparently Jemma’s was kicking the shit out of something. Probably a control thing, he thought to himself. Damn if a part of him -- a big part -- hadn’t enjoyed it. She was something, wasn’t she? Powerful, driven, and sexy as hell. He felt an attraction toward her unlike anything he had felt for anyone else. Not even his ex-fiancé, Brittany.

He groaned. That was a topic he had no intention of spending any more time thinking about. She had cheated, he had left, that was the end of it.

His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“King,” he answered without checking the ID.

“Don’t tell me you were sleeping.”

Caid closed his eyes. So much for not thinking of Brittany. It was a little hard to avoid when his ex-partner, her current husband, called constantly.

“What do you want, Jameson?”

“I need copies of the files you have on The Runner.”

“Why?” Caid asked, fearing he already knew the answer. Surely Pax didn’t hate him that much.

“Boss put me on it with you, and I want to look through them.”

“I’ll be meeting with her first.”

“Come on, King, don’t do that. We were friends once.”

Before you started fucking my fiancé. “I don’t need you on my team. I’ve got it under control.”

“Not from what I hear. Listen, don’t make a big fuss about this. Let’s just put the past behind us so we can get this guy, huh? Isn’t that what really matters?”

“Come on, baby, come back to bed,” the female voice that had become the bane of Caid’s existence sounded on the line.

“Not happening,” Caid said hanging up. “Fuck!” he yelled and tossed the ice pack. Now he felt like he needed to hit something. He dialed Pax’s number. She was damn well going to explain herself.

“Mind telling me why you put Jameson on my case?” he asked without preamble.

“Is this how you greet your boss now?” Her sarcastic tone would have normally had him backing off, but not this time.

“Hi, how are you? Lovely night, isn’t it?” he responded, irritated. “Now tell me why the hell you would partner me with the man who ruined my life.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? That ex-fiancé of yours was the one who spread her legs for him.”

Anyone else, and Caid would have been furious. But one of the reasons he respected Melanie Pax was that she told it like it was. There was no bullshit as far as she was concerned.

“Yeah, whatever, I’m still not working with him.”

“I’m sorry, did I wake up in some twilight zone? You will work with him because I ordered you to.”

“He isn’t half the agent I am. It’s the whole fucking reason he had the time to bang my fiancé when I wasn’t around. You put him on this case, and you might as well pull me off it.”

“And if I don’t?”

He heard the threat in her voice, but stood his ground. He refused to be forced to work side by side with that fucking douchebag. It was bad enough he still had to share the same damn building and see him and Brittany coming in and out of it like they were just fucking perfect. The dick had even invited him to their fucking wedding. Because who doesn’t want to watch the woman you were supposed to marry wed someone else?

“Then you might as well fire me.”

Pax sighed into the phone. “Fine. You can report any changes to me, and I’ll pass them down to him. You can both work the case separately. Fair?”

Caid closed his eyes. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but he knew enough to know Pax wouldn’t compromise any further. And if he didn’t have to talk to Jameson, then he supposed he could call this one a win.

“Fine,” he said and hung up the phone. “Well, this has turned into a lovely evening, hasn’t it?” He poured himself two fingers of whiskey, drank it down easily, and then headed for the shower to wash the ass-kicking of the day off him.

* * *

Caid lay naked on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun above him. The cool breeze it provided, coupled with the chill in the open air, had small goose bumps forming on his skin. But he had no intention of getting up and out of bed. He wondered if Jemma was asleep right now, or if her fears had caught up with her before she was able to close her eyes. He hoped not, hoped she was so worn out from their sparring session she actually got some sleep.

He had noticed the bags under her eyes, the slight redness in them, and guessed she probably didn’t get much uninterrupted shut eye. Damn, she was gorgeous though. Her blonde hair he imagined would feel like silk in his fingers. The honey brown color of her eyes as they bore into his. Even the pain in the depths of them couldn’t dull the light that managed to sneak out once her panic had been under control.

Caid realized he was thinking about her while he was naked, and decided it was probably best to get up. He needed to pop a few ibuprofens to help with the throbbing in his side. He grabbed some shorts off the dresser, but stopped when he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.

“Damn,” he muttered as he inspected the bruise on his side. She had really done a number on him. What did it mean that he was already looking forward to having her kick the crap out of him again?

He laughed to himself and pulled on the shorts, then walked around turning off each light. If there was even the tiniest hint of light, he would find himself tossing all night. He didn’t even have an alarm clock because of it.

He flipped his cell phone alarm and winced when he saw the time. Damn, it was already twelve-thirty. He was only going to get about five hours of sleep tonight. With Jameson being put on his case, Caid was going to have a long damn day. He closed his eyes and thought of a beautiful blonde as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Jemma slipped her .45 into her nightstand and crawled underneath her white duvet. Her hair, still wet from her shower, dripped down onto her shirt as she laid down. Every light in her apartment was blazing, just as it was every single night since she had been nine. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the nightmares that plagued her each night. Hopefully, she could get at least four hours of sleep in before her day started.

She had stolen enough money from her dear ol’ dad to set her up for life. She had paid cash for this apartment, didn’t need a car, and other than her electricity, her bills stayed low since she was the only one ever in her space.

Thunder sounded outside, and she jumped. Chill, Jemma, it’s just the storm. She felt her heart begin to race, so she began her countdown. Whenever she couldn’t get to the gym, she would start at a hundred and count backwards. Usually, if it wasn’t a bad attack, she could gain control by the end. Other times, she had to get out of bed and run around her small apartment until she was exhausted enough to get some sleep. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, she started.

Another clap of thunder, and she started counting faster. Ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four, ninety-three. Her heart rate began to slow as she got down into the eighties, so she continued until she reached zero.

She was finally able to close her eyes, but each time the thunder sounded, she winced. She started again. One hundred, ninety-nine…