Chapter Eight
Over the next three days, Mel had accompanied Ren to the IBRIS site a total of ten times, until she had completely memorized the route and all the proper procedures.
Ren would arrive at the warehouse every morning at eight, where she would wait patiently by her Jeep for her daily to-do list from Mel. And, since Ren only delivered to the InGen research site, her list was generally pretty short. She would normally make two trips a day, though there had been exceptions, bringing the workers their lunch and dinner orders, and then returning to the warehouse in between. However, she had been informed early on that that was only temporary. Once her training period had finished, she would be staying on site and receiving her orders directly from the InGen crew. And, today was that day.
Ren pulled the Jeep to the center of the pitch, just as she had done on the previous occasions, and parked between the twin trailers and the massive storage port. Switching off the ignition, she paused momentarily to look at the empty seat beside her, before finally dropping down from the driver's seat with an anxious sigh.
Mel was no longer there to act as a buffer. She was on her own.
On edge, she pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and readjusted the brim of her Jurassic World baseball cap, before circling to the vehicle's trunk and swinging the hatch open. It was hard not to be nervous. Though, over the past few days, she had gotten used to the intoxicating cocktail of scent that surrounded the site, she still felt apprehensive when it came to one on one interactions with the staff.
There were a total of eighteen people who worked at the Integrated Behavioral Raptor Intelligence Study, and ten of those employees were ACU troopers. Most of them, she had learned, were former military who had come home to a difficult job market. Like her, they had jumped at the chance for honest employment with a good wage. And, though they were not as daunting as their ghastly uniforms made them appear, Ren still had difficulty associating with them.
The remaining eight staff members all belonged to the research team itself, which consisted mainly of academics that InGen had recruited from various institutions around the world. There was an American Ethologist from southern Alabama named Dr. Rick Robicheaux, whose focus was solely on the study of the Velociraptors' adaptive behavioral traits. The Aussie in the fedora, it had turned out, was the team's Paleontologist, Dr. Axel Horne. And, the old Englishman with the red face was Dr. Don Ashworth, one of the planet's top Evolutionary Zoologists.
Those on the site without doctoral degrees worked under Barry, caring for the animals themselves. Ben Denali, she had been informed on her second day, was Barry's right hand man. He worked as the assistant caretaker, though his appearance certainly did not suggest it. One look at his long dreadlocks, and her first thought had been that he belonged in a reggae band, not at a top secret research site. But, despite this, Ben actually sported a Bachelor of Science degree in Zoology from Duke University, and had spent the five years before his employment with InGen at the San Diego Zoo. It was his job to oversee the other three handlers; Joe Cameron, Henry Goldberg, and Adam McCann, all of whom held at least a four year degree in something or another.
Ren had spent a good amount of her time over the last few days attempting to make as good of an impression on them as possible, though she was not entirely sure that she had succeeded.
She pulled the table out of the back of the Jeep, bringing it around and unfolding it front of the bulky headlights. She pushed the legs down into the sand to keep it steady on the loose earth, before returning to the trunk for the cooler. Easily lifting the heavy ice chest, she heard a series of quick footsteps jogging towards her.
"Here," Barry greeted her, pulling the large container from her grasp insistently, "Let me help you."
Ren was taken aback by his abrupt appearance. Her first instinct was to clutch onto the chest possessively, pulling it back with a territorial grimace. However, it was not until she noticed the befuddled expression that crossed his face that she realized she had done something odd. She quickly glanced down at the chest, suddenly very self-conscious.
"No, ah…" she struggled to correct her behavior, "That's alright. I've got it."
"I insist," he asserted.
She tightened her grip on the cooler, her brow furrowing stubbornly, "It's my job."
Barry's bewildered expression softening slightly as he slipped his fingers around the plastic edges. "True," he told her, his thick accent adding sincerity to his statement, "But, there is no shame in accepting help from others when it is offered."
Ren hesitated, immediately baffled by the bluntness of the statement. And yet, for some unknown reason, it resonated with her in a way she could not fully refute. Glancing down at his large black hands on the white cooler, she pulled her hands away uncertainly. "Um…" she struggled, stepping back and turning towards the open hatch, "Thank you?"
Barry chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small smile as he carried the cooler towards the waiting table, "You're welcome."
She watched him disappear around the Jeep's hood, before shaking her head in frustration as she scolded herself bitterly, "Nice going, Ren. Could you possibly be any more of a freak?"
She swiftly snatched the cardboard box full of lunch orders from the trunk, hurriedly following Barry passed the headlights. She set the box on the tabletop just as Barry was straightening up from the cooler with a bottle of water in his hand, twisting off the cap as he stood. He had placed the plastic chest on the ground next to the table legs, and had left the lid open with the already melting ice exposed to the midday sun.
Ren began pulling the Styrofoam cartons from the box, only glancing at Barry in her periphery as she lined the containers up with the order receipts in full view, just as she had been taught. She paused when her eyes caught sight of his name printed on the ticket stuck to the carton in her hand. Almost in unison, she heard his stomach growl hungrily, and she had to fight to suppress an amused smirk. Turning to him, she held out his food sympathetically, "Is this what you've been looking for?"
He laughed; a deep, guttural chuckle that came from his core as accepted the boxed lunch gratefully, "Bless you."
"You're welcome," she responded amiably as she finished lining up the lunches and began putting out the condiments, napkins and plastic-ware.
Barry slid passed her, opening his container as he went and pulling out a sandwich wedge. He held the slices of bread between his lips as he reached over the driver's side door and tapped the horn twice.
"Thanks," Ren called over her shoulder as she bent, placing the empty box under the table.
Berry leaned against the Jeep's over-sized grill with his container in one hand, the sandwich in the other, and a large bite rolling in his mouth, "You're welcome."
It was not long before a crowd had gathered around the table. Everyone was eager to collect their orders, hungry from hours in the sun. One by one, Ren greeted each of them with a forced smile, dutifully handing them their meals and trying not to be bothered by the obvious divide between them. As soon as they received their food, they would split off into their factions, with the ACU members huddling together by the storage port steps, and the academics grouping around a picnic table outside Trailer 1.
She sighed as the last order left the table, lifting the brim of her hat and wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. It was ungodly humid today, and Ren was looking forward to finding a shady spot on the pitch to put her feet up for a while.
She began replacing the condiments and spare forks into the cardboard box, when she suddenly noticed an unclaimed Styrofoam container sitting on the edge of the table. Her eyes darted from the ACU troopers, to the research team, and then back again. Frowning, she pulled it towards her, spinning the box around in her hands to read the name on the ticket. Immediately, she felt her heart drop.
Owen Grady had not ordered anything from the Hilton's kitchen since Ren's first day on the job, and she had been secretly grateful for that. In fact, Owen Grady had not said a word to her since he had loudly reprimanded her in front of Mel and the entire IBRIS team. He had not so much as come within ten yards of her, nor had he even glanced her way in the last three days. It seemed that he had chosen to ignore Ren altogether, which was entirely fine by her, except for the fact that she still had a job to do. Whether Owen Grady liked it, or not.
Ren sniffed at the container discreetly, her nose filling with the scent of seared beef, crispy bacon, and lots of salty fried potatoes. She groaned softly, rereading the name on the ticket before swearing colorfully under her breath and gently dropping the container back on the table with a troubled frown.
"He's not what you think," Barry informed her evenly.
Her head whirled around, surprised. She had almost forgotten he was there, but Barry had remained unmoved throughout her entire delivery, leaning against the Jeep as he polished off the last of his sandwich.
"What?" she questioned, knowing full well what he had meant.
"Owen," he elaborated, pushing himself away from the vehicle and placing his empty carton on the table next to Owen's full one, "He's not what you think."
Pursing her lips defiantly as she continued cleaning up, Ren shook her head and quickly lied, "I don't know what you mean."
"You scared him," Barry informed her, his tone turning somber, "When he found you at the top of the arena?"
She froze with a ketchup bottle still clasped in tightly in her grip and her gaze still locked on the empty cardboard box.
"I've known Owen for a long time," he continued solemnly, "I was working for the Berlin Zoological Garden when I first met him. Part of a collaborating research effort with the American Navy's Marine Mammal Program in San Diego. And, even then, I was impressed with his insight into animal behavior."
He sighed heavily, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table. "You need to understand," he told her direly, "These animals… They're not like lions or wolves. And, this place? It's not a zoo. There is a very real reason why we're so isolated from the rest of the island."
"What are you trying to say?" Ren asked carefully, fighting back the bite in her voice as she finally looked up from the box with a perplexed scowl.
Barry's smile suddenly returned, though it seemed tainted now, not quite reaching his eyes. "There is no one on Earth who knows what these animals are capable of more than Owen. And, when he saw you up there? So close to them? It shook him. Much more than he'll ever admit."
He straightened back up, placing his hands in the pockets of his khaki trousers and causally making his was toward the others around the picnic table, "That's why he was so hard on you. He was afraid."
Ren could feel the spiteful glower on her face as she watched him walk away, but she was unable to help herself. Her upper lip palpitated in a silent snarl as she thought back to Owen rushing at her from across the elevated platform. All six-foot-something of his muscle had been coiled with wrath as he had loomed over her, glaring down at her threateningly and demanding to know exactly what she had been doing there. Just thinking about it made her stomach knot up and a shiver to go down her spine.
And, he had been afraid?
The more that Ren had thought about that encounter over the past few days, the more she had realized how truly terrified she had been in that moment. And, fear was not an emotion she was used to feeling.
Not in that context.
Barry stopped abruptly, pulling Ren from her inner thoughts as he glanced over his shoulder, adding as an afterthought, "You should given him another chance. He might surprise you."
She scoffed at the idea, louder than she had meant to, but if Barry heard her, he did not react. He just continued onward, casually taking a seat between Ben and Dr. Horne.
Ren's gaze slowly dropped back to the carton on the table, her uneasy glower darkening the creases of her face. She rested her hands on her hips and growled quietly in the back of her throat, dread quickly spreading through her chest, "Ah, hell…"
She was still afraid, she realized bitterly as she fidgeted with her brim of her hat, pulling it low over her sunglasses. She was afraid, overwrought, and perplexed by the mix of emotions that were steadily building inside her. And, in all honesty, Ren had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Of course, she mused grimly, not knowing how to deal with her emotions was nothing new. Having a psychopathic telepath rip apart your mind did tend to have some pretty serious side effects, and Professor Xavier had not been exaggerating when he had told her that she had made substantial progress over the past two years. After all, when Jason Wyngarde's hold over her mind had been broken, her consciousness had been left virtually shattered, leaving her in a primal, animal like, state. And, she had been wild. Vicious even. Her temperament had been rabid, causing her to strike out at everyone that had come near her.
Logan had been the only exception.
Silently, she wondered how he would handle a situation like this, though she sincerely doubted Logan had ever been made to feel this way by anyone. Almost immediately, an image of her violently shoving Grady against a wall with her claws pressed tightly to his throat flashed through her mind, and she had to suppress a twisted smirk. She quickly rationalized that would most definitely not help. In fact, she admitted to herself with a furrowed brow, most of what her instincts were telling her would not help the situation. What she needed to be was the opposite of Logan.
Not feral, but civil.
She wiped her palms against her shorts apprehensively, before tugging at the collar of her polo shirt and brushing her ponytail over her shoulder. "I'd rather deal with a sentinel," she mumbled to herself, her heart drumming in her ears, "It'd be easier."
She took a deep breath through her mouth, holding the container tightly with both hands as she approached Trailer 2. Dimly, she was aware of many sets of eyes following her as she passed Trailer 1 and the table full of researchers. She tried to force herself to ignore them, even as she heard Adam exclaim comically, "Go get him girl!"
His outburst was quickly followed by a barely stifled roar of laughter from the others, and she shook her head with a renewed grimace, not at all amused.
Ren could smell Owen. The closer she got to the office trailer, the stronger his sent became. She could see the traces of it dangling in the air like a ribbon of shifting blue light, guiding her upward as her foot landed on the first of the aluminum steps. Once again, she felt her heartrate sky-rocket as his tantalizing aroma caused bumps to rise on her skin. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, unable to stop herself from greedily breathing it in, and hating herself all the more for it as she climbed the stairs.
She re-read his name on the Plexiglas window twice, before steadily raising her hand and knocking firmly.
There was a moment of silence. She was about to knock again, when suddenly Owen's irritated grumble called through the door, "Yeah?"
Ren pushed her way inside cautiously, the cool air refreshing against her skin as she stepped out of the hot sun. Pulling off her sunglasses, she squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the abrupt lessening of light.
Owen did not look up. He was sitting behind the wooden desk, with the harsh light from the large computer monitor sharpening his features severely as he hunched over the mess of papers spread out in front of him. His grip was white-knuckled around a pen in one hand, with the other knotted tightly in his russet hair. He looked frustrated, with the muscles of his broad shoulders glaringly stiff.
She shut the door behind her, careful to make as little noise as possible, and took a few wary steps forward. The floor creaked under her movement, reverberating through the trailer noisily, and she cringed.
His head snapped up, the surprise on his face instantly masked by an annoyed frown as he dropped the pen onto the desktop and straightened.
Ren was once again struck dumb as his cobalt eyes locked on her, causing her to breathe in sharply. "You, ah…" she struggled quietly, lifting the container in her hands pointedly, "You didn't pick up your lunch."
Owen's icy gaze dropped to the boxed meal, before slowly rising back up to her face. "Just put it there," he told her plainly, indicating the folding table to her right with a slight tilt of his head.
She nodded, gingerly placing the box on the tabletop. When she looked back up, Owen had gone back to his paperwork. Hunching back over the files, his grip was still far too tight on his pen, and he looked as though he was about to yank that tuff of hair from his scalp.
Ren swallowed thickly, aware that she had been dismissed. She backed to the door slowly, turning on her heel and preparing to leave, when she suddenly stopped with her hand hovering over the doorknob.
Why was she so afraid? In the last three days she had asked herself that question a hundred times, and yet she still did not have an answer. What did she have to be afraid of?
Taking another deep breath to steel her nerves, she straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw resolutely, turning back to face Owen.
"I'm not stupid," she stated boldly.
He looked up, clearly surprised by her outburst, "Excuse me?"
She took a defiant step forward, holding herself at her full height. "The other day?" she began decisively, "When we met? You said that the delivery runners have all been stupid and reckless." She took another step forward, raising her amber eyes to meet his hostile gaze challengingly, "I'm not stupid."
Owen immediately sat back in his chair, sighing deeply through his nostrils in frustration and grinding his teeth behind the severe line of his lips. He tossed the pen down aggressively, before dropping his hands off the desk and out of sight. Ren instinctually braced herself at the movement, but she did not back down.
"I'll give you reckless," she agreed with a half shrug, holding up her palms in a submissive gesture, "I go with my gut, and I don't always think things through." She swallowed dryly, her skin crawling from his unrelenting, dominating stare, "But, I'm not stupid, Mr. Grady."
Owen sighed again, overtly, with the crease of his brow deepening in exasperation, "Okay…?"
There was something in his tone that suddenly struck a very raw nerve with her. Ren narrowed her eyes, her gaze suddenly razor sharp as she stepped forward daringly, folding her arms across her breasts and leering at him fiercely.
"Look," she began flatly, her voice gaining strength with every syllable, "I get that I crossed some sort of line. And, I can see that you're pissed. But, I need this job." She took another deep breath, determined to stare him down as she repeated, "So, what can I do to fix this?"
He did not immediately respond. He continued stare up at her coldly, the line of his mouth down turning. "Fix this?" he questioned callously, raising a cynical eyebrow.
She forcefully swallowed the growl that rose in her throat, and instead did her best to soften her expression. "Rules?" she suggested, "Clear set boundaries? I'm in your territory now. So, you lay out the law? And, I'll follow it. Just tell me what I gotta do."
He shifted slightly, the corners of his lips twitching as he fought to keep the amusement off his face, "It's that simple, huh?"
Ren nodded slowly. She could hear the mockery in his voice, but she had come too far to back out now. "Rule number one," she recited bluntly, "Stay the hell away from your raptors. What else you got for me?"
Owen snorted in disbelief, his amusement seemingly gone in an instant. He leaned forward menacingly, opening his mouth to retort, when he was abruptly interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. And, before either of them could fully turn their attention to it, the door had been ripped open and the uninvited visitor was boisterously stepping inside.
"Owen!" the man called excitedly with his arms outstretched in greeting. He turned towards them with a wide grin, before quickly feigning startled embarrassment as his muddy brown eyes danced between the two of them, "Oh? Am I interrupting something?"
Ren had to resist the urge to cover her nose. The instant the stranger entered, she was overwhelmed by his overpoweringly rotten stench. He smelled like a mixture of stale whiskey and sweat-soaked socks, tainted ever so slightly by the nicotine patch under his sleeve and the menthol on his breath. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from gagging.
The new comer was a few inches taller than Owen, and was at least fifteen years his senior. She could tell by his physique that he had once been in good shape, but his body had given into age. Though his arms and shoulders were still well defined, he had gained a few extra pounds around his middle. His tan shirt and dark pants appeared just a little too tight, with his belly bulging out over his belt, and his hairline was receding. What hair he had left was thinning, peppered with salt, and had gone white at the temples. But, it appeared very well kept, trimmed neatly in a high and tight, with a goatee to match.
"Vic," Owen addressed him, clearly surprised as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "What, ah…? What can I do ya' for?"
Vic laughed, and the sound made Ren's arm hair stand on end. He dismissed Owen with a wave of his hand, "Do I need a reason to check in? Say hello to you boys?"
"No," Owen replied humorlessly, "Of course not."
Vic made his way deeper into the trailer, gesturing to Ren openly with a sickeningly sweet smile as he moved. "Now, this must be our new deliveries runner?" he held out his large hand to her genially, "Vic Hoskins."
Ren did not want to take his hand. Every instinct in her body was telling her not to touch him.
Reluctantly, she put her hand in his, keeping her grip firm as she allowed him shake it. "Ren Howlett," she introduced herself politely, though she was aware of an edge to her voice that had not been there a moment ago, "Nice to meet you."
After a few tense seconds, she attempted to pull her hand away, but Hoskins held on to it. Ren immediately wrinkled her brow questioningly, looking down at his hand as her lips quickly pressed into a troubled line. Glancing back at his face, she was horrified to see recognition in his wide eyes.
"Wait a minute…" he chuckled, toothy grin slicing across his features, "Just wait one damn minute…" He pointed at her with an accusing, meaty finger, "I know you."
Ren felt her heart skip a beat. Her left hand instantly curled into a tight fist as she once again tried to tactfully pull her right from Hoskins' grasp. "You do?" she asked icily, her lips twitching. She felt her claws shift through the bones in her wrist, stopping with the blades' points just under the skin of her knuckles.
"Yeah!" he boomed energetically, the sound coming from deep within his barreled chest, "You're that waitress!"
Ren was not sure whether she should be relieved, or alarmed. But, she supposed that being recognized for her role in the Masrani incident was preferable to the alternative.
Hoskins suddenly released her hand, and she hastily pulled it away. Her skin felt grimy from his touch, and it took everything she had not to openly wipe her palm against her shorts.
"Waitress?" Owen interjected alongside a faint twitch in his cheek.
Ren glanced back at him, but for some reason she could no longer bring herself to hold his gaze. She dropped her eyes her sneakers, feeling a sudden heat flushing in her cheeks.
"Yeah…" Hoskins drawled, still chuckling to himself as he took a step closer to her. His eyes slid over her body, "Boy, I'll tell you what… You are defiantly not what I expected."
Immediately, Ren's eyes snapped up from the floor, seething brightly with a rekindled rage. She struggled to force it aside, biting down on her tongue and watching him closely.
"That incident the other night? At The Overlook?" he grinned at Owen devilishly, shaking his head in disbelief as his grin grew even wider, "With Masrani and Dearing? This is the waitress that laid out that protester. Knocked him out cold with one punch. Broke his jaw in three places."
Ren remained silent, her eyes still locked steadily on Hoskins' face. He shifted his stance somewhat, and then all at once his demeanor changed.
"That's one hell of a right hook you got there," he told her smoothly, his impressed tone tainted by the suspicion dripping off of his words. He folded his arms over his broad chest, holding his superior size over her haughtily, "Where'd a little thing like you learn to throw a punch like that?"
Ren did not blink, "My old man taught me."
"That right?" he tilted his head slightly. His movements were causal, but his grin was waning with every word, "What's he do?"
"He's a history teacher," she replied coolly, still not looking away.
Hoskins nodded, the humor on his face taking more and more effort to uphold.
"Now, that is impressive," he told her, suddenly tearing his attention away from her and looking to Owen with a good natured shrug of his massive shoulders, "God, I wish I'd of seen it. The security video just doesn't do it justice. The angle is just all wrong. Can't really see anything until the guy goes down. But, man, I'll tell you what…" He once again locked his eyes with hers, his stare dissecting her every movement, "I'd sure as shit love to see a demonstration."
"Are you volunteering?"
The words were out of Ren's mouth before she had even realized what she had said. She immediately dug her teeth into the inside of her lip, watching as Hoskins' brow rose in surprise. Tension instantly began building in the trailer. She could feel it thickening in the air around them, so she did the only thing she could think to do to alleviate the situation. She quickly forced her antagonistic leer into and enticing grin, brushing a stray curl behind her ear coyly.
His shocked expression abruptly disappeared and he burst into laughter, holding his belly.
Ren's stomach did an uneasy flip as she turned away from him, once again feeling heat rise in her face as humiliation washed over her.
She made the mistake of looking back at Owen. Once again, his cobalt eyes were fixated directly on her, but the hostility in his gaze had seemingly vanished. For the first time since she had met him, his expression was void of any anger, irritation, or frustration. And, though she could not interpret his features at the moment, that absence had greatly changed his facade. He looked younger and infinitely more handsome. Ren felt her heart jump into her throat as she quickly glanced away, unable to shake the renewed embarrassment that had suddenly settled over her.
"Say, Sweetheart?" Hoskins addressed her as his laughter subsided, "Do you mind giving us a minute? I need to speak with Owen, here, in private."
She looked up from her sneakers, too relieved to have an excuse to leave to be bothered his misogynistic behavior. "Right," she apologized quietly, her cheeks still burning as she swiftly stepped backward and turned to leave, "Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Grady."
"Thanks a bunch!" Hoskins called after her as she practically leapt out the door and rushed down the stairs.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, hugging herself tightly as she hurried back towards her Jeep. But, unfortunately, she was still in earshot when she clearly heard Hoskins exclaim from inside the closed trailer, "Boy, she'll do. Huh?"
Ren physically gagged. Every inch of her skin was crawling as she rushed to the table and quickly began throwing what was left of the plastic-ware into the cardboard box. She managed to replace the table and the cooler into the Jeep's trunk in record time, barely even taking into account what she was doing as she slammed the hatch shut heatedly.
Striding around to the front of the vehicle, she climbed into the driver's seat and rested her forehead limply on the steering wheel with an aggravated huff, "Asshole."
Ren was reclining in the passenger seat with the brim of her hat pulled low over her face and her feet propped up on the dashboard. Dr. Grant's Earth's Dominate Species was open on her chest as her eyes scanned down the page avidly. She had backed the Jeep into the shadow of the storage port, making sure that she still had a full view of the pitch and the enormous arena through the windshield, before she had hit the seat controls and opened her book.
She was still unquestionably unsettled by her encounter with Victor Hoskins. He vividly reminded her of someone. Of who, Ren was not completely sure. That identity was probably lost in the ruins of her memory forever. But, whoever it was, she hated him. And, she hated Hoskins, too. The man gave her the creeps, and she had been determined to be out of the way when he had left Trailer 2 a little over an hour ago.
She had done her best to put him out of her mind by forcing herself back into Grant's research. This was her second run through his paper, and she was captivated by his theories on Velociraptors; particularly, his views on their communication abilities. She had been thinking about the raptors' clicks and caws for days now. And, as she contemplated Grant's hypotheses, she took the time to listen to the complex series of sounds that drifted towards her from the arena.
A small smile graced her lips. She was not sure why it excited her, but it did. In fact, it was the first thing that Ren could remember ever being excited about. Over the past two years, all she could think about had been making it to the next day. It was a dull, grueling existence. Like being stuck in a perpetual state of waiting. But, now, she found herself thinking about more than just survival.
For once in her life, she was thinking about actually living.
Without warning, Owen's tormenting scent wafted under her nose. Immediately, she glanced up from her page, her eyes widening in alarm as she caught sight of him casually strolling towards her from across the pitch.
"Oh, shit," she breathed, discreetly closing her book and slipping it into the bag resting under her legs, "What's he want now?"
She made herself appear as relaxed as possible, resting with one arm on her abdomen and the other above her head as he got closer. Slowly, she tipped her hat the rest of the way over her eyes, listening carefully to his boots on the sand. His steps were soft and even. His breathing was calm and composed. And, when she felt his presence suddenly loom over her, it did not at all feel threatening.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Grady?" she asked warily as she slowly pushed up the brim of her hat to look at him.
He was leaning over her with his arms raised above his head, resting his forearms on the Jeep's roll bar. "Why are you here?" he asked her intently, his striking eyes looking down at her with a stillness that was almost as jarring as his animosity.
"I told you," she began cautiously, raising her eyes to meet his, "I needed the job."
"Why?" he pushed. His voice was somehow more demanding in its softness.
Ren swallowed aridly. She once again felt her face turning hot as she shrugged her shoulders against the seatback. "It was either this, or leave," she told him honestly, "And, I didn't want to leave."
"Leave the island?" he asked, frowning down at her.
"Yeah," she confirmed, mirroring his expression, "Leave the island."
"So..." he griped brashly, grinding his teeth behind the unsympathetic line of his mouth as he chose his words, "You play hero? Save Masrani from a big-bad radical? And, what? Dearing had you fired?"
Ren narrowed her eyes, unable to ignore the blatant skepticism in his tone. "I didn't do it for Masrani," she lashed back at him, "I don't give a shit about Masrani. Or, Dearing for that matter."
Owen raised his brow, surprised, "No?"
"No," Ren snapped abrasively, "My friend was waiting on their table. She got caught between Masrani and that asshole. That's why I did it. It didn't have shit to do with Masrani."
She had to pause, struggling to subdue the primal snarl she could feel rising up from her diaphragm.
"As for the Dearing?" she continued sharply, her upper lip pulled back in a spiteful sneer, "Yeah. She had me fired. Said I made too big a spectacle of myself. Bad for business, or some bullshit. I'd be back in New York right now if Lydia hadn't introduced me to Mel. So, yeah. It was either this, or leave. Like I said."
She collapsed back in her seat, still fuming as she looked away, shaking her head in disgust.
"Hmmm…" she heard the sound rumbled from deep within Owen's chest, almost like a growl. She quickly turned her attention back to him, alarmed by the animalistic nature of the sound. Her stomach did another anxious flip.
He swept his hard eyes over her, though his stare was not as explicit or as violating as Hoskins' had been. Instead, he seemed to be searching her for something. Nevertheless, Ren squirmed uncomfortably as his intense glare slid down her body, digging her fingers into her polo shirt and tugging downward on its hem modestly.
Owen shifted slightly, sensing her discomfort as his gaze slid back up to her face apologetically. He looked as though he was about to say something, when suddenly his eyes snapped back down towards her feet and he grimaced. Sliding his arms off the roll bar in a fluid movement, he immediately reached down around her legs and snatched her bag off of the floor.
Ren instantly sprang up into a sitting position, pulling her legs in as she was taken off guard by his sudden grab. Her heart throbbed loudly in her ears as he pulled Grant's book from the mouth of the bag with a puckered brow. He began thumbing through the pages slowly, before suddenly looking back at her with a piercing, bemused glower, "Where'd you get this?"
"Amazon," she lied, feeling guilty the instant the word left her tongue.
"Hmmm…" the same contemplating rumble as before. Owen had once again locked his unnerving eyes on her face, but his expression was impossible to read, "You're sure you haven't gone near the paddock?"
"No," she assured him.
"You're positive?" he pressed firmly.
"Yes, I'm positive," she stated defensively, scowling at the accusatory nature of the question, "I haven't been near the arena since the other day. Why?"
He did not answer, simply offered her the book back, "Don't let Hoskins catch you with that. He already thinks you're a spy."
This piece of information did not at all come as a surprise to Ren. However, the fact that Owen was willing to share it with her was shocking. Guardedly, she accepted the book, never pulling her eyes from his face, "And, what do you think?"
"Don't know yet," he told her earnestly, leaning back over her as he replaced his forearms on the roll bar.
Ren nodded slowly, her eyes dropping to Grant's paper as she ran her finger down the spine thoughtfully. She heard Owen sigh deeply, apprehensive as he shifted his weight to his other foot.
"Alright," he began suddenly, his voice stern and absolute, "Rule one. You do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it. No back talk. If I even hear the word 'but' come out of your mouth? You're out of here. Got it?"
Her gaze immediately shot up from the book's sleek cover, unable to hide her stunned expression as she gaped at him.
"Rule two," he continued harshly, sighing roughly though his nostrils, "Is stay the hell away from my raptors. You do not go near that arena without an escort. Either Barry, or myself. Yeah?"
She nodded fervently, still wide-eyed.
"Rule three," he pressed direly as he leaned in, gliding his arms down the roll bar and gripping it firmly with both hands as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. He locked his eyes intently on hers, with the tip of his nose was less than a foot away from her face. Ren could feel his breath on her skin, and she was certain he could hear her heart thudding in against her rib cage.
"And, this is the most important thing," he told her gravely, "Are you listening?"
"Yes," she breathed quietly, her mouth going dry.
"Never," he commanded her, his voice slightly deeper than normal as he exaggerated every syllable, "Ever. Call me 'Mr. Grady', again."
Ren blinked, dumbfounded.
"Bu—?" she began, but quickly let the word drop when she saw Owen pointedly raise an eyebrow. He held her gaze, and Ren suddenly found herself struggling to suppress a genuine laugh. She bite down on her bottom lip, covering her mouth with her hand as he promptly straighten up and began to make his way back towards the arena.
"Hey! Wait!" she quickly called after him, bewildered. Lunging forward, she pulled herself up out of her seat to see him better, "Does this mean I can stay?"
Owen turned, continuing to slowly step backwards with his dominate hand resting on his belt buckle. "I guess we'll see," he smirked fiendishly back at her, "Won't we?"