The Protected

wasn’t for his . . . circumstances, he’s a victim of the situation. But he’s got months ahead of him before he’ll have his gift under control. We have to make sure he’s trained before he ends up another target. And we have to keep him safe. Assuming, of course, his uncle doesn’t show up.” His lip curled. “It just might be easier if his uncle never showed his face again.”

“Shut the hell up, Jones,” she said, the words flying out of her mouth before she could silence them.

When Taylor shifted his gaze to her, she stared right back at him. She’d already jacked this job up. What did it matter if she said what she thought now?

His steely eyes bored into hers and she lifted her chin. “What?” she demanded.

“You might want to check the attitude, Vaughnne,” he said softly. “You have caused so much trouble, I don’t even know if I can begin to fix all of this, so cut the bullshit.”

“Cut the bullshit?” She gaped at him. “That man was willing to do whatever it took to protect his nephew. Whatever it took. All they had was each other and Gus might be—”

Her voice cracked and she spun away, lifting her hands to hide her face. She couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now.

Behind her, she heard a sigh. A moment later, Taylor tugged on her shoulder. She jerked away, but he just pulled again, and a moment later, she found herself caught in Taylor’s arms, her face pressed against his chest. The terrified tears were still trapped inside, though. She couldn’t let them out. Not here. Not now.

Taylor was more than just her boss. He might be a straitlaced bastard and the world saw a cold piece of work, but he was the closest thing to family she had. But she wasn’t ready to break around him. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and made herself breathe. She had to breathe, had to function and focus so she could ask him what she needed to know.

One minute after another slowly passed, but finally, she thought she could manage. “Do you know anything?”

His chest rose and fell on a sigh. He squeezed her gently and then eased back, studying her face. He still looked pissed, she decided. But his eyes were a little less icy. “Some, yes.” He moved away and took up a position at the window, staring outside. “Moran is mostly on a fishing expedition, Vaughnne. If he knew where Gus was, he wouldn’t be fishing.”

A few seconds of silence passed and the ache that might have hope swelled inside her. Taylor flicked her a glance. “Dead bodies are usually pretty easy to locate in a fire, you know. If you weren’t so . . . close to this, you’d have already come to that conclusion, I guess. If Gus was one of his, he would have already done what was necessary to ID him.”

“One of his . . .”

A faint smile came and went on Taylor’s face. “Give me some credit, Vaughnne. I’ve pieced some things together about him, you know. And I know what kind of operation Moran runs. Although if I’d had any clue who Gus was before this . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

“You would have done exactly what you did,” she finished. “A kid was involved. You and I both know . . . kids are worth it.” She closed her eyes. “One of his. Why didn’t he go to Moran back then?”

“Too many corrupt people,” he murmured. “Reyes had a very, very long reach. I imagine he didn’t want to risk the boy.”

“No. He wouldn’t have taken the chance.” She rubbed her eyes. She pushed all thought of Gus out of her head. She’d think about him later. When she could actually do it and not worry about others seeing her fall apart. “What’s going to happen with Alex now?”

“For now, he stays where he is,” Taylor said, his voice flat. “Until we know more, there’s nothing else that can be done.”

Until we know more—

She started to tremble. The need to break weighed heavily on her.

“Vaughnne.” Taylor looked over at her. “Go home. Come back tomorrow. We’ll start cleaning things up then.”

She nodded and tried a weak smile. “Should I bring a box to clean out my desk?”

“No.” He folded his arms across his chest and resumed his study of the parking lot. “I might need one by the time this is over, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

* * *

GUS had planned to do . . . something.

He didn’t know what.

But he’d planned to do . . . something when she came inside.

She came inside, a dazed, almost drugged look on her face, like she didn’t know where she was. Who she was. Part of him wanted to grab her and shake her, scold her for her carelessness, because she didn’t even look around.

He wasn’t hiding. The room was dim, but he stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, and all she had to do was look around and she’d see him.

But all she did was shut the door and flip the locks.

Then . . . she stood there.

Her back to him. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly, and distantly, he was aware of the harsh sounds of her breathing filling the room. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the door. A sob ripped out of her. She slammed a fist against the door and the sound of it caught him off guard.

Anger and grief rolled from her, and he felt frozen there. Guilt flooded him and part of him wanted to slip out of the room, disappear, and leave her alone with whatever hurt her.

The other part of him wanted to go to her and haul her against him, make her tell him what had hurt her . . . so he could kill it. Fix it. Whatever. He didn’t know which one he was supposed to do. He was good at killing things, but fixing them? Not so much.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to care . . . not for anything or anybody.

She wasn’t supposed to matter, yet she did. More than anybody or anything, save for Alex.

He didn’t want this inside him, but there it was.

She slammed her fist against the door and screamed, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. Shoving off the wall, he crossed the floor. He didn’t know what he was going to do, what he was going to say—

“Damn you, Gus.” The words came out in a ragged sob.

His heart jumped into his throat.

She was crying . . . over him.

He almost tripped over his feet, his shoes scuffing on the hardwood floors.

She gasped and whirled around.

He saw her hand go to the weapon strapped to her waist, and he moved, catching her wrist and pinning it to the wall.

Her eyes went wide, damp and glinting with tears, as she stared at him.

“Gus . . .”

“Damning me finally?” he whispered.

She sucked in a breath and reached up, fisting her hand in his shirt. “You . . . you’re okay.”

Reaching over, he caught the weapon and tugged until she let go of her Glock. He laid it down on the small table to his left. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Why are you crying, Vaughnne?”

She sniffed and reached up, swiping the tears from her face. “I’m not.” She lifted her chin and glared at him.

“Of course you’re not.” Unable to resist another moment, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She tasted of tears and her and he was starved for her. He lifted his head a fraction. “If you don’t want this, then you better stop me . . . now.”

Her response was to reach for his shirt and strip it off.

If he were any sort of decent, he’d slow this down. Talk to her. He’d be lying if he tried to tell himself he hadn’t come for this. He hadn’t come only for this. He’d wanted to touch her, feel her