Rogue protector, p.17
Rogue Protector, page 17
Bracing one hand on the headboard, I guide myself to her entrance. “Relax, sweetheart.” I don’t have to remind her, because the second my crown slips between her folds, it’s like all the parts of her that were unsettled, all her fears, all her uncertainty just melts away.
By inches, I slide deeper, waiting for her body to adjust, our gazes locked on one another. This woman sees all of my broken pieces, all my pain, and she doesn’t brush it away. She accepts it, and I’ve never felt anything as sexy as that.
“I…fuck, Mik. There’s so much I want to say to you.” Fully seated now, I kiss her, then slowly, gently, start to move my hips. Her moan is everything, and she clutches at my back, drawing me closer with every thrust.
I want to see her eyes, want her to see mine, but I’m terrified if I break off the kiss, I’ll say something she’s not ready for. Something I didn’t think I was ready for until this moment.
Instead, I kiss her for all I’m worth, rocking into her, relishing in the tiny mewls and moans, the way her breasts scrape against my chest, and the pleasure I swear I can feel coiling in her belly.
I’m so fucking close I can’t hold on much longer. Sliding one hand between us, I find her clit, and with the barest hint of pressure, send her flying once more. Her release is too much, and as she clenches around me, I let go as I break off the kiss and shout her name.
After I dispose of the condom and clean up a little, I run a washcloth under warm water and return to the bed where Mik’s curled on her side, watching me. She holds out her hand, but I want to do this—need to do this—after what we just shared. “Let me take care of you a little, sweetheart.” Swiping the cloth over her body, I memorize every line and curve, marveling at her trust, her strength, her understanding.
“Do you…sleep naked?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
“Not usually.” I snag a clean pair of boxer briefs from my bag and tug them on. “But I will if you want me to.”
Mik shakes her head gently and scoots to the edge of the bed. “I’ve tried…a few times. But most times, I can’t fall asleep. I just keep thinking…what if there’s a fire? I’d be running out the door with no clothes on.” Her little laugh warms something inside of me and chips away a little more of the wall life built around my heart.
She pads over to her dresser and once she’s donned an old Berkeley t-shirt, panties, and a silky pair of shorts, she slips under the sheet and snuggles up to me. “This is real, right?”
“Us?” I ask smoothing a hand over her hair.
“Yes.” Her voice has dropped to a whisper, and she drapes her arm around my waist and holds on tight. “This doesn’t happen in real life.”
“Well, don’t look now, sweetheart,” stretching up to flip off the light, “but we’re here. In your bed. And what we just did? That felt pretty damn real to me.”
“What happens now?” Mik yawns and settles closer to me.
“Now, we sleep. You’re exhausted.”
She nudges me with a knee. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Tomorrow, maybe we’ll see what it feels like to do something…normal.”
“Normal? I’m not sure we do normal. But okay. I’ll try anything. Once.” Her laugh settles me in a way no other sound can, and I close my eyes as she adds, “Anything but sushi.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Austin
After twenty plus years on active duty, even with the last six spent behind a desk, it’s impossible for me to sleep in, and I’m up by 6:00 a.m. All Mik has in her fridge are a few jars of condiments, and I don’t even see coffee beans.
An hour later, I have a grocery order on the way, and hunch over my tablet, checking my email for the first time in weeks. Shit. Two emails from Griff.
Pritchard,
When you said you were going off the grid, I didn’t think you meant completely. Couldn’t have given me a heads up? And what’s with sending me to Boston to meet with a blind guy? In case you didn’t know, I’m mostly deaf, not blind. Don’t try to tell me I can still live a full life. Not until you’re walking around without your fucking arm too.
Don’t contact me again.
-Griff
The only way I control my urge to throw the tablet across the room is to remind myself this is Mik’s house. There’s no way I’m going to disrespect her like that. Given how he signed off, I’m amazed he sent a second email a week after the first. Until I open it.
Austin,
I owe you an apology. I didn’t ask how he found me, but Dax Holloway knocked on the door of my hotel room a couple of hours after I stormed out of his office. The dude is…intense. Asked me questions for-fucking-ever, then told me to show up at Second Sight in three days without the massive stick up my ass.
I guess I’m going. Not like I have anything better to do.
-Griff
Unsurprising. The few times I’ve been in the same room with Dax, his presence…it’s heavy. Serious. I outrank the man by miles, but Special Forces guys always carry themselves the same way. With an attitude that says, “Don’t fuck with me, or they’ll never find your body.”
SEALs are even worse.
Knowing the man will be awake, even this early, I call Dax. “So, got yourself into some trouble down in Mexico?” he says without even a greeting.
“Like you never ‘found yourself’ any in your life?”
“Didn’t say that. Found plenty of it. Want to fill me in?” His Southern drawl lends a gentleness to his words, but he’s not asking. Not really. Not when he sent guys to protect us. And paid for the plane to fly us home.
“I will. But I’d rather do it somewhere more…”
“Private?” His rough laugh always seems to surprise him. Then again, from what Trev told me, Dax hadn’t laughed for years. Not until he and Ryker patched things up. “Fine. But I gotta know at least some of it. What you’re plannin’ to do about it. How long you need Ronan. Whether we need to bring Wren in on things.”
“I need Wren’s particular talents. Still don’t know who these assholes are or whether they’re going to come after Mikayla now that we’re back in the States. Until we find out, I can’t tell you how long she’ll need protection.” Lowering my voice, I add, “We’re new. She could tell me to take a hike tomorrow, and if that happens…”
“Pritchard, you went and fell in love with her, didn’t you? Fuckin’ A. I’ll make you a deal. I won’t say a word to Trevor, if you promise me you’ll tell him in person. Then call me and describe the look on his face in precise detail.”
Chuckling, I settle back on the couch and run a hand through my hair. “Deal. But Dax? That’s not the only reason I called.”
“You mean your former associate with a chip on his shoulder the size of Fenway Park? Yeah. He was here. Wren and Royce are working with Evianna’s people on some cuttin’ edge shit. We got him set up with the same voice-to-text software I use, but flipped the algorithm for him.”
“I don’t know what to say, Dax. I fucked up his whole life.”
“No, you didn’t. I read the ops report. He made a choice,” Dax says, his voice taking on a tone you only get from years as an elite soldier.
“That’s not how he tells it.”
Dax snorts. “You were just an easy target for him to blame. He’ll come around. Give him a little time. And for fuck’s sake, respond to the guy’s emails.”
“I will. Thanks. I owe you—“
“Stop right there. Family doesn’t owe family. We’re square.”
By the time Mik comes downstairs, I have the food put away, coffee brewing, and bacon sizzling in a pan.
“Austin? What are you doing?” she asks, peering at the clock on the microwave. “It’s only a little after eight. Did you…leave?”
“No, sweetheart. No.” I turn the stove down and wrap an arm around her waist. The fear in her eyes is like a knife straight to my heart. “Grocery delivery. I ordered online.”
“Oh. Good.” She’s still shaky, so I guide her over to the far side of the kitchen island and pull out a tall chair for her. “Sorry. I just…I hate not knowing if I’m…if we’re safe.”
“You’re not the only one.” As I check on the bacon, I frown. “How do you take your coffee? I ordered whole milk, half-and-half, and almond milk, but—“
She gapes a little when I open the fridge. “Did you buy out the entire store?”
Shit. “No.” My shoulders stiffen, and I kick myself for going overboard.
And then she’s behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist. “Relax, Danger. I’m not mad. Just…surprised.”
“I can’t call Wren—she’s Second Sight’s computer genius—until at least ten. She’s in Seattle. And I didn’t want to call Detective Chavez until you were awake.”
“What does that have to do with you buying three types of creamer?” Mik reaches around me and grabs the half-and-half, splashes a small bit into a mug, and pours herself coffee. My cup is next to the stove, and she tops that off too before she sits back down again and watches me expectantly.
“Between the cameras all around the property, and Ronan doing drive-bys every hour, nothing’s happening to you here. But the minute we—you—leave this house, the risk goes up.” I’d give anything to be able to reassure her, but I can’t. Not yet.
“Okay.” Mik nods, accepting my words easily. Too easily. We’re going to have a serious talk once I finish making breakfast. But she has other ideas. “A week ago, you could have called me naive,” she says. “And heck, I probably still am. But I believe you, Austin. Most of all, I trust you.”
Her confidence in me is so staggering, I almost drop the plates. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Mik.”
“Well, I’d hope not. If my parents hid a twin from me for my entire life, they have some explaining to do.”
I almost choke on my coffee. “I love—your sense of humor.” Fuck me. I almost said something I can’t take back, and from the way her fork clatters to the countertop, she knows it.
Neither of us say another word as we eat, and as I’m loading the dishwasher, my phone vibrates on the counter. The number starts with fifty-two, Mexico’s country code. This better be Chavez with an update.
“Pritchard,” I say. “You’re on speaker.”
“Major General Pritchard, is Dr. Salim with you?” Chavez asks.
Mik clears her throat. “I’m here.”
“Give us some good news, detective.” Setting the phone on the counter, I let Mik lean against me and bury my nose in her hair. She smells like lilacs, lavender, and sex, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her.
Chavez sighs over the line. “I wish I could. Señor Larkin is no longer at the hospital in Tuxtla Gutiérrez. At seventeen hundred hours, I was told he was being brought out of his coma. When I called the hospital twenty minutes ago, they had no record of him. But there is more, and I must apologize to both of you. I have been assigned to another case.”
I know the tone in his voice. Resignation. The sound of your superiors giving you orders you don’t agree with, and having no choice but to obey. “Chavez, is this line secure?”
“As secure as one can be on short notice.”
“What about the two assholes who hurt Dr. Salim?”
“I issued arrest warrants for Arturo Lopez and Martín Salvador last night, but as of this morning, I can find no evidence they were ever put into the system.” Chavez clears his throat. “Mexico is a wonderful country. We have untouched natural beauty, and some of the most genuine, kind, and honorable people I have ever met. But we also have corruption. The cartels own so many.”
I wish I didn’t know just how terrible life under a corrupt government can be. Gil. Trevor. My own time in Venezuela. No. Not now. Those memories have no place here. Not anymore.
Shoving them down as far and as fast as I can, I let training take over. Assess. Plan. Act. Pretty sure that’s McCabe’s mantra, but it’s a good one.
Muting the call for a brief moment, I turn to Mik. “I’m going to take him off speaker, but you can listen in. Trust me?”
She nods, and I switch the call and unmute. “Detective Chavez, I would advise you to cease all investigation of Arturo Lopez and Martín Salvador immediately. Do not look for Corey Larkin, and forget meeting Dr. Salim. For your own safety.”
“I am not afraid, señor. This is why I joined the Policia. To fight corruption. To protect my people.”
“Keep doing so. But leave this case alone. ‘Live to fight another day’ if you will. You are a good man, Chavez. You kept us safe when we needed it most. If you ever need outside assistance, this number will reach me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I think I do. You have a friend in Mexico, Major General Pritchard.”
“And you have one in the United States.”
The call ends, and I sink down onto the stool and meet Mik’s gaze. She understands, and the fear in her eyes mirrors what I feel deep inside. “Sweetheart, things just got a lot more complicated.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mikayla
Austin’s tense, moving stiffly to retrieve his tablet from the coffee table and set it on the counter in front of me.
“What’s the plan?” I ask. I’m torn between needing to know and wanting to crawl back in bed and hide away from the world with him for a day…a week…however long it takes for the cartel to forget about me.
Thumbing out a text message, Austin pulls out a stool for me. “Now we do this my way.”
“Your way?” His entire demeanor’s changed. Gone is the caring, thoughtful man I’ve started to think of as my…what? Boyfriend? In his place, a hard, all-business intelligence officer with a plan he’s not sharing. At least not yet.
“Be right back.” Despite his new attitude, he pauses to press a swift kiss to my lips before taking my stairs two at a time. He’s back in under two minutes with a small, black bag from which he pulls two boxes and a cable, then hooks everything up to the tablet.
“Who’s Red?” I ask when he taps a contact from his list.
“Wren. You’ll see.”
The woman who answers has a mop of red curls that brush her shoulders, and though she smiles, it’s tight-lipped. “We secure on your end?”
“Yep.”
“Stars and bars knows better than that,” a rough, deep voice says from behind her. The man who leans over the back of a sofa has to be the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. Bald, half his face scarred, and tattoos covering both arms. “You back in the land of the living, Pritchard?”
“Ryker.”
“Shoo,” Wren says as she tips her head up to look at him. “Austin called me, not you. Go knock down a wall or something.”
“Knock down a wall?”
“We’re remodeling. Well, Ry is. I’m—“
“Supervising,” Ry calls out.
This time when she smiles, it’s like someone told the sun to come out and play. At least form the look on her face. But in the next breath, she sobers and scoots forward on the couch. “What do you need?”
“Wren, this is Mikayla. Dr. Mikayla Salim. We need you to work some of your magic.”
Half an hour later, Wren knows everything. Well, mostly everything. Not what happened upstairs last night. Not how I feel about Austin. Or how I suspect he feels about me. Or…maybe she does, because when she signs off, she says, “Give me a couple of hours, tops. You’ll be together, right?”
“Yes,” Austin replies as he drapes his arm around my shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere today if I can help it.”
“Well, just make sure you answer the dang phone when I call, okay? No funny business.” With a wink, she ends the call, and I groan.
“Not going anywhere? You practically told her we were going to spend the day having sex.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” He cups the back of my neck and leans in. This kiss isn’t quick, it’s anything but, and if he wasn’t standing so close, I think I’d melt right off the chair into a puddle of goo. At least that’s how my insides feel.
“No, but we can’t simply hide away from the world forever. I have to call my boss and tell him what happened. And…oh God. Dr. Branch.”
“Who?” Austin’s eyes narrow and he reaches for his tablet.
“Dr. Brian Branch with Johns Hopkins. The phytotoxin from the Blushing Note’s pollen and root system are a key component in a new Parkinson’s treatment he’s developing. He co-signed the grant application that sent us to Mexico in the first place. He’s going to be devastated.”
Snapping a Bluetooth keyboard into the tablet, he sends Wren a message to add Branch to her research, then glances up at me. “I need your boss’s name too.”
“Brian’s not involved in any of this. Neither is Lowenstein. Heck, Howard was diagnosed with Parkinson’s six months ago. There’s no way he’d put this research in jeopardy.” I shake my head. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, Austin. But not everyone’s out to get me. Some people are just…basically good.”
“Some are.” He threads his fingers through my hair, and though I try to pull away, he urges me closer. “But we thought Corey was a good guy too. And maybe a part of him was. He helped me find you. Too little too late for my liking, but he could have given me the wrong coordinates, done…any number of things to stop or delay me until it was too late.” His body’s gone rigid again, and a muscle in his jaw ticks as fear swims in his hazel eyes. “I won’t take a chance that someone else in your life contributed to this shitshow. Until Wren gets us some answers, everyone’s a suspect.”
“Even Li? Isaiah? They almost died, Austin.”
“So did Corey. Almost dying? Doesn’t mean shit. Not where these assholes are concerned. They didn’t have a problem killing you, shooting at me, or burning your students alive. There’s something big going on here, Mik. Bigger than any of us. Big enough whoever’s behind it doesn’t mind a hell of a lot of collateral damage. So yes. Everyone’s a suspect.”
