I pulled up short as I got closer, my breath catching in my throat. When was the last time I'd seen Zed stripped down like this? He was... wow.
He tapped gloves with Alexi, ending their session, and padded across the mat to where I stood, a curious look on his face.
"What's up, boss?" he asked, his gaze cautious. It wasn't like me to show up unannounced while he was working out, but the feeling of being tailed was making me all twitchy and short-tempered. I didn't have the patience to leave him a voicemail, knowing his phone was in his bag and wouldn't be checked for another hour.
Alexi gave me a grin and a small salute from across the training ring, and I gave him a tight nod in response. He was a looker, no doubt, and had made it pretty damn clear he was interested in me as more than just a terrifying boss. But I simply wasn't interested. He struck me as a watered-down version of Cass.
"I have a tail," I told Zed in a low voice, not wanting Alexi to overhear. He was a valuable employee, but that was as far as my trust in him went.
Zed gave me a smirk and craned his neck to look at my ass. "Do you? That's new."
"Fuck you, this isn't funny. Someone has been following me since Tuesday." I folded my arms under my breasts and glared. "And whoever it is, they're good at not being caught."
Zed's brows flicked up. "So how do you know you're being followed?"
My eyes narrowed further, and my jaw clenched. "Seriously?"
He gave a one-shouldered shrug while unstrapping his gloves. "Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a moment. Alright, gimme ten minutes to shower." He headed across the training room toward the showers, and I frowned after him. The Timberwolf tattoo covering his whole back flexed as he moved, and I found myself weirdly fascinated by it. Zed was acting... strange.
But then, so was I. My whole vibe had been off all week... but surely that was understandable given the fact that someone was playing at being the ghost of my ex-fiancé.
"Hey boss," Alexi said, strolling over to me and snapping me out of my trance. Zed had just disappeared inside the locker room anyway, but I needed to blink a couple of times before refocusing on Alexi. He fucking knew it, too, glancing over his shoulder in the direction I'd been staring, then shooting me a sly grin.
"You got something to say, Alexi?" I asked in a cool don't-fuck-with-me voice.
He quickly shook his head, his smile slipping. "Uh, no, sir. Nope. Just wanted to ask if you're coming to the fight next month."
There was a fight at Anarchy every weekend, but I knew Alexi was talking about our main event of the season. There was a lineup of several hyped-up pairings, and Alexi was fighting Archer. He didn't stand a chance, but it'd be a good show. They both fought professionally within the UFC, so it'd draw a hell of a crowd. Great for liquor sales, even better for laundering money on bets.
"I expect so," I replied with an arched brow. I didn't carry the conversation, and a moment later he awkwardly shifted his weight and scratched the back of his neck.
"Cool," he murmured after a painfully long pause. "Well, I should..." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the lockers. When I said nothing in response, he gave a tight smile and backed away.
When he was out of sight, I let out a sigh and ruffled my fingers through my hair, then anxiously tied it up in a high ponytail with the black rubber band on my wrist. I paced the length of the room about sixteen times before Zed emerged in a pair of fresh shorts, sneakers, and a tank top. His short-cropped hair was glistening wet from the shower, and he smelled of soap—hot as hell, if it weren't Zed.
"Let's go." I whirled on my heel and stalked out of the training gym ahead of him before he could catch me perving like he were a guy I wanted to fuck. Because I didn't. Not anymore, anyway. We'd established the boundaries of our relationship a long-ass time ago, and they didn't include any kind of sexual activity.
"Where are we going?" Zed asked, hurrying to catch up and walk beside me. The training building was toward the back of the Anarchy complex, so it was a bit of a walk to get back to the parking lot. We'd left the creepy, huge clown face over the main entrance, just cleaned it up a bit and given it a paint job to make it look demonic. I loved it, but I was also one of those sick fucks who wasn’t scared of clowns.
I blew out a long breath, thinking. "Let's go to Zanzibar. I'm starving."
"Sounds good to me," Zed agreed, clicking the key fob to his Ferrari. "Meet you there?"
I nodded. "Hang back, though. See if you can spot anyone."
He gave a small shrug like that wasn't likely—and it wasn't—but still did as I asked. Sure enough, I didn't get the feeling anyone was following me too closely on the way to Zanzibar—an upmarket lunch spot with plenty of outdoor seating—but that wasn't shocking. If I had been followed to Anarchy, they had to know I'd gone to get Zed. So they’d know to hang back from his car, too.
So either I was officially paranoid or they knew what they were doing. Both options were equally concerning.
After we dropped our cars off at the valet, I requested an outdoor table, and the maître 'd showed us to it. Neither Zed nor I spoke until we were seated, then he arched a brow at me.
"I didn't see anyone," he commented, his voice low and quiet.
I gave a shrug. "They're there. Somewhere."
Zed stared at me for a long moment, then ran a hand over his damp hair and nodded. "Yeah, I bet. They must be pretty good if you haven't pinpointed them yet." It was an observation, not an expression of doubt. Zed knew not to question my gut. Fuck, I hoped my instincts weren't going as screwy as my mood.
Our waitress came back and took our lunch orders, then left us in silence for a bit. Zed just sat back in his chair, casual as fuck despite wearing gym clothes in a fancy restaurant. His eyes were glued to my face, unnerving me as my own gaze scanned the street beside us. I'd asked to sit outside in the hopes of spotting someone watching.
"Stop it," I muttered after a few minutes.
His lips twitched with a smile. "Stop what?"
I gave a deadpan glare. "Stop staring at me."
"You never used to mind." His tone was even, not betraying any emotion at all. I frowned deeper, and he shrugged. "Or maybe you just never used to notice."
"You're acting so fucking strange at the moment, Zed," I grumbled. "Did the revolving door to your bedroom get stuck or something?"
Amusement flashed over his face, but he didn't reply. Our waitress arrived with a bottle of sparkling water, and Zed took it from her to open and pour, then handed me a glass.
"I think someone made it out of the massacre alive," I told him after a sip of water. "It's the only thing that makes sense here, isn't it?"
He sipped his own water, his blue eyes still fixated on my face. "The only thing that actually makes sense to me," he murmured, "is that Chase made it out alive. But even that makes no sense. We both saw him die. You fired the damn gun yourself."
My stomach flipped, and I swallowed heavily, reliving the moment I'd looked my fiancé in the eye then fired his Desert Eagle at his head. Yeah. My favorite gun used to belong to Chase. I'd grabbed it in the bloody fight where we'd beaten each other half to death, and it’d seemed like such poetic justice to kill him with his own weapon.