The Protected

pair of loose-fitting gray pants. Low-slung, they revealed far too much for her peace of mind. But then again, everything about Gus was too much for her peace of mind. “What are you doing?”

“Lying down.” He rolled on his side to face her. “You should do the same.”

She glared at him. “There are two beds.”

“There are.” He reached up and touched her lips, and her skin all but buzzed from the light contact. “But I’m going to be closest to the door. And even if you move to that other bed, Vaughnne, once we’ve both had some rest, I plan on being inside you again. Before we leave this room, if nothing else goes wrong.”

She gaped at him.

Part of her wanted to sneer at him.

The other part wanted to forget how dog-tired she was and just crawl on top of him, take him now.

“You know, that’s a terribly romantic proposal,” she said, shooting for sarcasm. Hopefully it would keep him from realizing just what she was thinking. Feeling. Wanting . . . “But I’m thinking I might pass. You have it in your head that it’s a foregone conclusion, pal, the two of us getting it on again. Whoever said it was going to be a repeat?”

He just stared at her, and after a minute, a faint smile tugged up the corners of his lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Vaughnne?”

“Are you going to move to the other bed?”

“I’m staying closest to the door.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip and then lifted his hand, settled it between them on the bed. That was when she saw the gun—that Sig Sauer he carried around like it was a pacifier. “If you don’t want to share the bed, then you can move to the other one.”

She should do just that. Really.

But instead, she lay down.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that smile of his. Infuriating. She rolled away from him and gave him her back. The guy was hot as hell, too beautiful to be real. And arrogant as all get-out.

Knowing that last part didn’t make it any easier to convince herself she wasn’t going to have sex with him once she woke up.

She already knew what was going to happen.

Assuming they had the chance.

* * *

THE phone rang.

Nalini rolled up off the bed, grabbing the phone as she moved. She checked the caller ID and looked up to see Reyes glaring at her. Her hold only lasted for a short time when she wasn’t in physical contact, and she had no desire to stay in physical contact with this guy indefinitely.

Tying him up, though, that always worked.

“Hello?” She smiled at him as she brushed her fingers over his brow, establishing the connection, looking for what she needed. He made it too easy. He was greedy and grabby and wanted everything. She twisted those needs and used them against him. Sinking the compulsion deep inside him, she promised him, You can have what you want . . . me. Hurt me as bad as you want. After you help me. Again . . .

It was all lies, but he didn’t know that. Didn’t have to, either. He’d figure it out once the compulsion wore off, but it wouldn’t help him then. You’re going to tell them everything is fine. She set the guidelines mentally as she spoke with his second in command.

They’d all looked at Reyes as though he’d lost his mind when he told them that everybody was going to leave. He wanted a few days alone with his lady. That was the lie Nalini had offered him last time. She wouldn’t be mad at him for hitting her, she’d never leave again, she’d do him however he wanted her to . . . and damn, the guy was a freak. However he wanted sometimes included the kind of violence that women sometimes died from.

As a voice jabbered on in her ear, she held Reyes’s gaze, watched as his eyes went unfocused, and she felt it when her hold on him snapped into place. “Yes, he’s here . . . we’ve been . . . well, I can’t tell you that, but he was still in bed.”

She smiled a little as she put the call on speaker. She kept one hand on his cheek as they lapsed into Spanish. Some part of him tugged against her hold, and she wrapped her will more tightly around him, felt him acquiesce.

“No, no . . .”

Reyes smiled, a dazed, blissed-out look on his face as spoke to his second, Yes, yes, everything is fine. No, you are not to return yet. Yes, we are well . . .

“Manana . . .”

Nalini swore silently and pressed harder on his mind. Not tomorrow. Tell him to call.

Reyes went white around the eyes under the strain of her hold, but his voice was steady as he relayed just that to his second in command. She was pushing her luck, she knew it. But she was going to finish what she started here, and she had to finish dealing with the website, too. All of that took time, and she kept having to stop and reinforce her damn hold on Reyes every time he had a phone call.

They spoke for another few minutes and then the call disconnected. She broke contact with him, but he continued to sit there, a dazed, happy look on his face, almost like he was high.

“If somebody gets to sit around looking all strung out and happy, why can’t it be me?” she muttered as she headed back to the desk.

“Come here, Nala,” Reyes said, his voice low and heated. “I can make you happy.”

She made a face. The only way he’d make her happy was when she left him far, far behind her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do that without killing him or not. The option was looking less and less likely, too. This fixation he had on the boy wasn’t going to end unless he died, but that would bring about a whole other mess of problems. When men like Reyes died, people noticed, and she hadn’t come in equipped for that. This should have been a simple information-gathering operation. It was proving to be the most screwed-up disaster ever.

But she couldn’t walk away . . . not from that boy.

As she checked the progress on the psychic site, she glanced up at him. “Why the boy, Reyes?”

Something else she’d like while he was feeling cooperative—answers.

“The boy?” he echoed.

Something flickered in his mind. Her hold was slipping. Already. Son of a bitch.

It should have lasted longer than that. Instead of looking at the computer, she remained where she was, staring at Reyes. “Yeah. What’s the deal with the boy?”

“He’s my son,” Reyes said, his voice thick, the words coming reluctantly. “He’s mine.”

“Yours?” she echoed. “So you miss him, then? You love him? Want to bring him home and . . .”

His lip curled. “Love him. No. Until I knew what he could do, he was just useful to keep his cunt-mother happy. A man in my position needs a beautiful woman at his side. She served her purpose. But then I realized what he could do. And he’s my son. He will come home.”

Useful . . .

Nalini gathered up her hair, securing it at her nape as she settled back behind the computer. Well, that solved that riddle. The images of the night the woman died still weren’t clear. This wasn’t the man who killed her, but he was behind the attacks on the boy, was hunting him down like a wild animal. Not out of love, but because the boy was useful.

She tapped at a few keys and finally—she had the information she needed. What she really wanted to do was take the entire website down, see it crash and burn, but Jones might need the information on it to track people down. Too much vigilante shit taking place on it, and that was just bad, bad news. Somebody needed to blow that thing wide open.

But she’d hacked in a mod’s ID with enough clearance to delete that profile. She already knew where it had originated from . . . here. Esteban. The missing Esteban. She’d heard Ignacio ordering his men to find the cabron and bring him in, but she had a funny feeling they wouldn’t be finding the man. He’d had a desperate look about him when he’d left here . . . how long ago had it been? Almost two weeks ago? She couldn’t even remember. Maybe three? Closer to three, she