“Cute moves with the water,” he drawled, though his gaze was somber. “Give it some music and hippy twists and you have a winner there, Zoey.” Elijah Grant gave her a little wink.

His amused voice wasn’t so much a shock as a bit of a surprise. She gave a little snort at his comment.

“Sorry, bub, no stripping in my future so far. Check back next year.”

“My luck.” He shrugged negligently at the rejection before tipping his head to the side and watching her closely.

She hated it when he did that.

“Thought Graham had you working for the next few days. Some hush-hush spy stuff.” She grabbed the towel hanging on a peg attached to the wall and dried her face and shoulders. “I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight.”

His gray eyes watched her with thoughtful consideration. She hated it when he did that too. It meant she wasn’t holding back the stress from the nightmares as well as she should.

“I finished up early.” He finally shrugged before giving the punching bag a glancing punch, his gaze still on her.

Dressed in jeans, the bottoms of which were frayed behind the heels of his boots, and a dark T-shirt, he looked more like someone’s kid brother than an agent for Homeland Security who worked with her brother-in-law.

“So why are you here if you’re not working after all?” she queried, flashing him a mocking smile while looping the towel around her neck. “Can’t find a date willing to overlook odd hours and last-minute cancellations?”

A wry grin tugged at his lips while his handsome features flickered with amusement. “Pretty much. But I was hoping I could get you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.” And she meant it. He’d saved her sanity more than once in the past year. And he’d never told her brother the secrets that mattered, even when he’d witnessed one of the horrifying nightmares in progress and heard her cries that she’d killed Harley.

“I have to go meet Graham’s boss,” he admitted with a grimace, hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “Bastard’s always trying to pull me into one of his half-assed ops and get me shot at. If you went with me, though, I could just tell him I was out with you when Graham called, and since you’re Dawg Mackay’s sister, we have to run,” he suggested with a hopeful look. “He wouldn’t dare get you mixed up in anything dangerous.”

Well, that wasn’t nice. She would probably enjoy it for a minute.

She had to laugh at his explanation, though. “Really, Eli? I think getting shot at comes with the job description, ya know? Besides, I thought you were keeping me and your boss’s boss far apart because of my wild hairs.”

“Those wild hairs of yours are reckless and without a lick of sense, Zoey,” he snorted. “But I think the whole Dawg Mackay threat will work just this once.”

He always accused her of getting a “wild hair” stuck crossways in her brain whenever she decided it was time to slip away from Pulaski County and be someone other than Dawg Mackay’s baby sister.

The trip actually sounded like fun, though. Something to take her mind off the nightmares that had only become worse in the past months.

“What time do we have to leave? I’ll need a shower first if I have time.” She strode across the gym, heading for the stairs that led to the apartment above.

“It was that easy?” He followed, the question faintly surprised.

“I told you it was,” she reminded him, turning her head to glance over her shoulder at him. “Come on, Eli, I wouldn’t have told you no if I wanted to and you know it. But we have to take the bikes. I haven’t been out in too long and felt the air rushing around me. I’ll kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“Leave the guns here?” Eli sounded so hopeful.

God love his heart.

“You know, Eli.” Coming to a hard stop, she turned and faced him with a frown. “I practiced for three months before going for my license to carry and I passed with flying colors. I even make sure I spend at least two to three hours per week at the gun range. So what’s your problem with my gun?”

The Baby Glocks just looked damned good too. Unfortunately, she had to carry them in her saddlebags or under her jacket rather than in the thigh holsters she’d bought for them.

“You’re no superhero, Zoey.” He repeated the same argument he always used. “You just look good enough to be one, okay? That’s all. Freaky paranormal abilities do not come with the sexy leather you wear, baby doll.”

She had to flash him a smile for that one. “Too bad you’re not older, Eli, you have promise.”

He kept telling her she needed a lover. Someone to keep her warm at night and chase the nightmares away.

“I’m not that much younger than you, Zoey,” he pointed out rather eagerly as he followed her up the stairs again until they reached the second floor. “Come on, we’re the same age but for a few weeks. I’d make a helluva fuck-buddy.”

She threw her towel at him with a laugh. “Not this week, Eli. Sorry, bub.”

“Man. Do a lottery or something; then I can at least cheat and make sure I win,” he protested.

That brought her to a stop.

“A lottery for the position of my lover?” She was more amused than she should be.

His brows arched, a grin tugging at his lips. “Sounds good to me.”

“What if I want more from my first lover? Some kind of commitment or promises?” Propping one hand on a hip, she flicked him a knowing look.

Eli did not believe in commitment.

He grimaced immediately, a mock shudder trembling through his shoulders. “Stop trying to scare me. That’s not right. Besides, who better to be your first than your best bud?”

“Keep dreaming,” she suggested with a little wave of her fingers. “Now be quiet and don’t break any of my stuff while I shower. How long do I have?”

“Long enough to shower and shimmy into that black leather you look so good in,” he promised hopefully, his gray eyes filling with hope. “Come on. If I can’t win the lottery, at least wear the black leather.”

“Moron,” she charged, striding to her bedroom. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Of course she would wear the leather if she was riding the bike tonight. The days of baggy jeans and shirts two sizes too big were over the night she’d dreamed of blood and death. Her research into protecting herself after that had suggested clothing that wasn’t so easy to grab and restrain.

Showering and drying her hair always took far longer than Zoey liked. She’d actually been ready to have the mass of curls cut back to above her shoulders when her sisters had lost their minds over the idea. Now, she just dried it enough to get by with, laid several hair ties aside for later, and dressed.

The black leather pants slid over her skin like silk but hugged her toned legs and rounded hips like a lover’s hand, while the black cotton tank hugged her from breasts to hips.

Her black leather riding jacket finished the outfit.

She slid her Baby Glocks into the soft holsters inside the jacket. One on each side.

A scarlet belt settled at her hips.

Pulling her boots on, Zoey adjusted the leather that rose just over her knee, grabbed her jacket, and hurried from her bedroom.

As she suspected, Eli was in her kitchen. He’d managed to sniff out her hidden stash of peppermint patties too. The ass.

“Stay out of my candy, Eli,” she ordered, bracing her hand on her hip and narrowing her eyes at him.

He swallowed tightly, gray eyes widening to the point that they nearly bulged just before he coughed, the candy obviously stuck somewhere.

“Fuck, Zoey. Maybe the leather was a bad idea,” he wheezed. “Change clothes. You’ll cause the big boss to have a stroke or something.”

“You’re funny.” She smiled indulgently. “Where are we riding to anyway?”

“The other side of Louisville,” he sighed. “Do me a favor, though?”

She handed him the hair ties and turned her back on him, indicating he should go to work braiding the mass of curls.