The Protected

take her. Then he wanted to shake her.

He wasn’t going to have a chance to do either because he suspected he was going to wring her damn neck in a moment.

Slowly, he sat up.

She just continued to watch him.

“Please tell me they took Alex for tests,” he said quietly.

“I could do that.” She shrugged. “I’d be lying.”

The muscles in his body immediately tensed, and he made himself relax. “I told you what I was going to do if you fucked me over.”

“I haven’t,” she replied. “I told you I’d help you take care of him, and that’s exactly what I did. I got him to the safest place I could possibly think of . . . so you can do the one thing that’s going to make sure he stays safe.”

Rising from the bed, he paced over to her.

She remained where she was, although her hand curved around the weapon’s grip. Her pulse slammed away in her throat, and her eyes watched him with a world of caution. “I keep him safe,” he said softly. “Call your boss and bring him back.”

“No.”

Shooting out his hands, he grabbed her arms and jerked her upright. Nose to nose, he leaned in, staring into her eyes. The scent of her went straight to his head, straight to his dick. Why had she done this? The last thing he could do now . . . actually, the last thing he should have done ever was trust her, want her . . . and yet that was what he wanted to do. But she’d let them take Alex.

“Call him,” he said again. “Or you’re not going to like what I do when you refuse this time.”

She reached up and laid a hand on his throat. “Well, here’s the problem. If you hurt me, I can tell you this, right now, Jones is never going to turn that kid back over to you. It’s just not going to happen.” Her thumb stroked over his skin and that light touch seemed to echo through every damn inch of him. “Of course, I realize that isn’t necessarily going to stop you. I remember what you said you’d do and I’m prepared—”

“Prepared.” He cut her off. Fury and lust tangled inside him and he lowered her back to the floor. Eyeing the door, he crossed over to it and grabbed the chair, wedging it under the handle to keep it shut. It wouldn’t last for long, but he wouldn’t need long to make his point, he figured. Turning back around, he stared at Vaughnne. “You have about thirty seconds to use that gun or you’ll regret it.”

A slim black brow arched.

Then, she laid the gun on the table by the bed. “I’m not using it on you. I’m not calling Jones. You do what you think you have to, Gus, but I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat.” Her eyes narrowed and she added softly, “FYI . . . I am not the threat, but if you’re too stupid—”

The rest of the words were caught against his mouth.

* * *

SHIT.

Vaughnne should have taken those thirty seconds to breathe, she decided, because now it was too late.

His mouth, brutal and hungry, crushed down on hers. She went to shove him away, but he caught her hands and, in a blink, had them pinned at her back. His tongue probed at her lips and the need to open for him almost sent her to her knees. Well, it might have, except his body was pressed to hers. Long, lean, and powerful, and so amazing.

Against her belly, her chest, she felt the hard wall of his chest, the muscled plane of his belly . . . and, oh, hell.

The ridge of his cock pressed against her and any thought of self-preservation went out the window. She opened for him, and as his tongue swept into her mouth, she welcomed it with a greedy moan.

He stilled, for just a second, and then lifted his head, staring at her through slitted eyes. She licked her lips and watched him, breathing raggedly. “If that’s supposed to make me run for cover, sugar, they taught you some crazy shit down there in Mexico,” she said.

The room spun around them and she sucked in a breath right before he slammed her against the cool, hard wood of the bathroom door. The bruises on her body screamed out at her. The need inside her body screamed louder, and she reached up, curled her hands into his shirt. “That’s not doing it, either, Gus.”

He closed one hand around her throat, pressing his thumb lightly.

It didn’t hurt.

But the threat was obvious.

Something dark, dangerous glinted in his eyes. “If I told you that I’ve killed some of your fellow agents, would you still be laughing at me, Vaughnne? Still be taunting me?”

Some of the heat inside her eased back, but she didn’t look away. “I’m pretty sure I’m familiar with what an assassin is. You’ve killed. So have I. I’m still not running.”

“And if I tell you that I’ve fucked a woman and then killed her the next morning . . . what then?” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “I could break you, Vaughnne. So easily. You’re strong, and you’re fast. But you haven’t had to do the things to survive that I have. I could take you now, and then if I don’t get what I want out of you, I could break your neck and walk away.”

* * *

THE fear he needed to see in her eyes just wasn’t there.

Instead, as he issued a threat he really doubted he could follow through on, all Vaughnne did was angle that arrogant chin of hers up. Challenge glinted in her eyes as she smirked up at him. “Yeah? Then do it.”

He could kill her. At least a few minutes ago he could have. But then she’d put that damned weapon down.

I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat. FYI . . . I am not the threat . . .

Eliminate the threat.

He could have killed her, right up until she said that. It wasn’t because she’d pointed out that she wasn’t the threat to Alex. He knew that. She was a roadblock, though, and he could dispose of a roadblock. With most of them, he could do it without any guilt, although if he had to hurt her, it would haunt him. But he could have done it.

But she’d cleared the biggest roadblock of all. He wanted two things—to protect his nephew. And kill the boy’s father. But his nephew was the one reason he couldn’t go after the father.

Problem solved.

Tightening his hand, he lied . . . again. “You think I won’t do it. You think I haven’t?”

He’d done a lot of things in his life. Killed. Lied. Stolen. Fucked his way to whatever information he had to get out of women and then he’d walked away. But he’d never slept with a woman and killed her in the morning. Never. There was no way he could start with this woman. And now he couldn’t kill her, either—

Didn’t even know if he could force himself to hurt her. Walking away was becoming something too difficult to fathom.

Her gaze held his and she leaned against the door, unperturbed by the pressure of his hand against her throat. Her fingers were tangled in the wrinkled, worn fabric of his shirt, and he wanted to see her peeling that fabric away. Wanted to peel her clothes away and learn every blessed inch of her.

“I think you can do just about anything you set your mind to,” Vaughnne said, her voice husky. “I’m hoping you’ll decide that the best option here is to go after the real threat. But you do what you have to.”

Then she smiled at him and pulled her hands away from his shirt, lifted them up, and placed them by her head.

The look on her face was like a punch to his gut.

Challenging. Hungry. Insolent. And . . . waiting.

Waiting.