The Protected

And then, it was like the very earth had crumpled under his feet.

Orlando.

The iPad hit the ground with a clatter and blood started to roar in his ears. Run. They had to run—

His brain zeroed down to that goal, and for a few seconds, nothing else existed. Nothing but the plan. Nothing but the goal. Nothing but Alex and making him safe.

Get Alex up.

Get Alex out of here.

Get Alex away.

A voice, annoying like a gnat buzzing in his ear, caught his attention after a few seconds, but he brushed it aside as he grabbed his bag and started for the bed. A car. Plenty of them in the parking lot. Run. Hurry, hurry, hurry—

“Gus?”

“Ah, Jones, I wouldn’t get too close if I were you . . .”

The voices were a rush in his head and the only thing he could think was . . . run. They had to run.

Somebody moved in—he saw the man from the corner of his eye.

He swung out. The man was fast, very fast, and evaded. He didn’t manage to evade the second move, though, and as Jones crumpled over, gasping for air, Gus brought up his fist, ready to slam it down on the back of the man’s vulnerable head.

Before he could, something grabbed his throat. “Come on,” a soft voice said. “Don’t make me get rough.”

He clawed at his neck, but there was nothing there. Just his own skin. Except something was holding him—tighter and tighter, too. Eyes wide, he looked around, but Gus didn’t . . . there. It was her. Taige.

Gray eyes stared into his, and she had a look on her face that was . . . almost sad. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “We can help with him, but you have to stop panicking every time somebody tries to help.”

He tried to suck in a breath, tried. Failed. Darkness edged in around him and he swung out again, his aim so far off, he didn’t even come within a foot of her. The darkness crept in closer . . . closer . . .

And in the back of his mind, a voice murmured . . . You must promise me . . .

Just before he slipped under, he heard Vaughnne’s voice, Don’t you think it’s about time you start trusting me?

FIFTEEN

“DID you have to choke him?”

Over the bed, Vaughnne glared at Taige.

Taige shrugged easily. “Hey, I was just trying to avoid (a) getting hit, and (b) having him take that kid out of here. You and I both know that’s not going to end well if he does that. Besides . . . it got him to rest, right?”

Dropping down on the chair, Vaughnne stared at Gus’s battered face. Now he had a ring of bruises around his neck. Lovely. “Yeah, you got him to rest, all right. But how long has he been out?”

“Happened right after you went down.” Taige shrugged. “It’s been about two hours. And it’s not because of what I did. His body needs rest and once he went down? Mother Nature took over and forced him to take what he needs. Relax . . . he’s fine. I hear his thoughts if I try and they are just . . . well, not fine, but I didn’t do him any damage. The guy is almost as scared as the kid is, but he’s fine. He’s determined. He’s a wily bastard, that one. But he’s exhausted.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “So am I.”

Vaughnne curled her lip. “Yeah, that trip up from Gulf Shores was just exhausting, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, it was the sex last night, but hey.” Taige just shrugged and smiled.

Vaughnne cringed. “There’s a kid sleeping behind you. Is that necessary?”

With a grin, Taige retreated to her chair just outside the door. “I’m going to crash for a few, since you’re up and moving. Don’t know how long Jones plans on needing me, but I need a few minutes’ downtime.”

Sighing, Vaughnne stretched out her legs and focused on the two males in the room. Both of them slept, but neither did so easily. Alex’s rest was fitful and he tossed and turned, occasionally muttering in his sleep or crying out. Although Gus was still and silent, even in sleep, he looked ready to battle. His hands were clenched, the muscles in his arms bunched, like he was ready to lunge into action at any moment. Ready to fight. Ready to protect.

Without thinking, she reached up and stroked a hand down his arm, thinking only to soothe him.

And what a mistake that was—

A split second later, her wrist was trapped and she had to bite back a gasp as he twisted it and jerked her forward. Caught off guard again, she landed against his chest and glared down at him.

His eyes were foggy but clearing every second as he glared up at her.

Taut silence hung between them.

She licked her lips.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and a hunger like nothing she’d ever felt exploded through her. If it hadn’t been for the boy in the bed just a few feet away, Vaughnne suspected she would have stripped off every damn piece of clothing she wore and rubbed herself against him like a cat. She might have begged him, might have pleaded . . . just one night. That was all she wanted.

Well, no. She wanted everything, but one night would suffice.

She sucked in a breath, and just like that, the moment shattered.

He let go and she shoved away from him, pushing her hair back from her face and clambering out of the chair as he sat up, looking around. His gaze lit on the boy in the bed, and she said softly, “He’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“We need to go.” The underlying urgency in his voice cut into her heart and she reached out, despite how stupid that had been a minute ago.

But this time, as her hand caught his arm, all he did was freeze.

“Go where?” she asked quietly. “You know what’s after him now, right? I know Jones showed you.”

“That’s why we have to go.”

“And how are you going to hide him from all that can come from that? Can you protect him from an army?”

Gus’s hand shot out, fisting in the front of her shirt. He tugged her closer and lowered his head, pressing his brow to hers. Hell warred in his eyes as he stared at her. “Can you?”

“By myself?” She laid a hand on his cheek. “Hell, no. But I’m not alone. You are.”

* * *

ALONE . . .

Yes.

That was something that Gus was painfully aware of.

He’d spent so many months alone. So many years.

Most of his life, really. Ever since he’d left the family, staying far away from them once he’d somehow landed in a life that he’d never planned. Never wanted for himself, but it had found him anyway. He’d joined the military—there had been no choice. He was on a road to trouble, going nowhere fast, and it was either join the armed forces or find his ass in jail. He’d chosen the military. It might have been better if he’d gone the other way, though, because somehow, he caught the eyes of the man who’d put him on this road.

Almost from the beginning, they’d been watching him and the persona he’d worn—the playboy, the brawler, the man who’d played at modeling, fucking, and fighting. It had been planned almost from the time he’d agreed to