Crossing the Line

by Cynthia Eden

  He kissed her. If Edward wanted to watch, he’d give the bastard something to see.

  Blair is mine. You don’t hurt her. You don’t threaten her. I will do anything and everything to protect my partner.

  And some ass kicking? It would definitely be fun. Especially if he was kicking the ass of one of her exes.

  Blair’s legs were wrapped around his hips, her breasts were pushed against his chest, her mouth was on his—the sweetest, hottest temptation of his life—and Linc wasn’t going to waste any more time on Edward. Not then. Not when he had her.

  His tongue licked over her lower lip. She gave a little moan. Edward wasn’t close enough to hear that moan, so the moan had to be…

  For me. For us. Because she was just as turned on as Linc was. Because she was just as crazy for him as he was for her.

  He nipped on her lower lip.

  She shuddered against him.

  He kissed his way down her neck. She was salty from the water and just pure heaven from—Blair. She is always heaven. He licked her neck. Sucked. And, sure, he fucking intended to leave a mark. Wouldn’t a possessive, obsessed husband do that with his new bride on their honeymoon? Could totally be part of their cover.

  Or it could just be…

  Because I want her.

  ***

  Apparently, there were jerks everywhere, even in paradise.

  Edward Sharpe climbed up the steps of his bungalow, and he glanced back once more—just in time to see the jerk pull his lady in for a deep kiss.

  He could only see part of the woman’s head. Wet, thick, dark hair. Her shoulders were above the waves. She had a tight, firm body. Legs for days. Narrow waist. And—

  And if the guy catches me staring again, I think he will kick my ass. Or, try to. Edward would be more than willing to fight back. His days of being pushed around were long gone.

  He turned back to the bungalow. Edward’s mind was still on the jerk and his lady, and maybe that was why it took him a moment to realize that his door was slightly ajar.

  Open by barely an inch.

  He’d shut the door when he left. He was one hundred percent sure of that fact. But it was open and Edward’s whole body tensed. He thought about the jackass on the beach. About the way the guy had seemed to be lingering near the bungalow.

  Edward yanked open his door and stalked inside—

  The pretty redhead who was inside his bungalow gasped in surprise and straightened near his bed.

  Natasha.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sharpe.” She beamed at him. “I wanted to personally bring you fresh coffee, fresh fruit, and pastries. Here on the island, we believe in starting every day with a taste of paradise.”

  Was she serious with that line?

  He crossed his arms over his chest.

  She kept beaming at him.

  He had to say something. “Thank you, but I’m not much for breakfast.”

  Her smile dimmed. “Is there anything you do need?”

  Had he just imagined the innuendo in her words? Her fingers were doing a fun little walk between her breasts so…no, he didn’t think he’d imagined the sexual suggestion. Especially not when she strolled closer and put her hand on his chest.

  “Because if there is anything you should want,” Natasha all but purred, “I’m happy to assist.”

  Okay. Time for some ground rules. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.” He took her hand off him and glanced out of the windows toward the couple still swimming and making out in the water. “Learned that lesson the hard way a while back.”

  She cleared her throat. “I think you misunderstood.”

  “I’m sure I did.” He returned his stare to her. “My apologies.”

  She nodded, stiffly, then stepped around him. “I’ll leave you to your morning—”

  “Wait.”

  She paused.

  “I do want something.”

  Natasha glanced back at him.

  “The couple swimming out there…”

  He saw her gaze trek to the windows. The couple was walking out of the surf now. As Edward watched, they paused to collect their belongings before they strolled away. Hand in hand.

  Natasha smiled. “The newlyweds. They certainly seem happy, don’t they?”

  He seems like an obsessed asshole, but whatever. “Appearances are often deceiving.”

  She blinked and focused on him. “That’s why it’s always important to look beyond the surface.”

  Absolutely. He made a point of walking her outside. The sun beat down on them as the waves pounded against the shore. It truly was a slice of paradise.

  One of the butlers was closing in on them. Martin? Yes, that was his name. As the guy approached, Edward raised his voice a bit—the waves were pounding harder—and asked, “Before you go, Natasha, do you have time today to show me the Monet that’s on the island?” He flashed his winning smile. “I am dying to get a peek at it.”

  She laughed.

  He didn’t laugh back. “Something funny?”

  Martin sidled a bit closer.

  “Who told you that a Monet was on the island?”

  “Uh, your boss did. When Carthright sent me the note asking me to come review the property, he told me you had a Monet here that I had to see.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Her laughter was gone. “I don’t know why he told you that. I know every inch of this island, and we definitely don’t have any art of that quality.”

  “I must have misunderstood.”

  “I have to attend to the other guests. Enjoy your morning.” She pointed toward Martin. “Don’t forget, our butlers are always close if you need anything.”

  He doubted most of the butlers could give him what he needed. In the distance, he could see the couple. Still holding hands. Still far too close together.

  His gaze remained locked on them until they vanished from sight.

  Chapter Six

  “Did you love him?”

  Blair seemed to choke on the fancy bit of—hell, whatever it was that she’d ordered. Something French. Because, of course, the restaurant on the island had a top-notch French cuisine menu in the middle of the day. She’d ordered like a boss, like she picked out French food every single day, and he’d just stabbed his index finger at the menu blindly.

  She picked up her napkin and patted her lips. “Love—who, exactly?”

  “Your mark.”

  Her brow scrunched. “Edward? You’re asking me if I loved Edward?”

  He nodded. A tight, hard nod.

  “You know the business, Linc. You don’t fall in love when you’re working a case.”

  He laughed. “We’re talking about Wilde here. Do you know how many agents have fallen in love while working protection details? Hell, Simon Forrest married that gorgeous Hollywood actress. And Julia Slate wound up married to rocker Bran Copper when she was his bodyguard.” That was just the start of the list, that was—

  “I wasn’t working for Wilde when I met Edward.”

  He glanced around the restaurant. Only one other couple was there. They were arguing. A guy with a trendy haircut, glasses, and tailored clothes. The woman with him had pale blonde hair, a golden tan, and huge rings on every single finger. Her index finger was currently pointing accusingly at the man across from her.

  Trouble in paradise.

  “I had another employer back then.”

  Linc’s gaze swung back to Blair. “Want to tell me who that was?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to tell you who that was.”

  He leaned forward. Caught her hand with his. To onlookers, it would appear to be the adoring touch of a lover. “Blair, sweetheart, that’s keeping secrets.”

  She smiled tenderly at him. “No, that’s keeping classified information…classified.”

  His heart thumped hard against his chest. He’d always suspected this but… “Were you a spy?”

  One eyebrow arched.

  He took that to be…yes
.

  “That is so hot,” he breathed as the waiter came up to him. “Like, the hottest thing you’ve told me today.”

  But he wasn’t kidding. Blair as a sexy super spy? Uh, yes, please.

  “I am so sorry you’re stuck with this idiot, ma’am,” the waiter announced quietly.

  Blair smothered a laugh as she glanced up at the waiter—Cole.

  “I do so wish that I could offer you something else,” Cole continued carefully. “But our kitchen doesn’t have anything else for you to exchange so…”

  Linc let go of Blair. His stare assessed Cole. He noticed that Cole was wearing a long-sleeved, blue shirt. Probably because management—Natasha—had asked him to cover up his arm tats.

  “So…” Linc cocked his head. “Your undercover job is working as a waiter?”

  “Actually, it’s security. Natasha said I needed to learn all aspects of the island in order to be a thorough security agent, so here I am.” He lifted Blair’s water glass. Refilled it. “Got a fun tidbit for you.” He kept his voice low. “Apparently, all staff members are dually trained as security agents. So your friendly butler or your helpful night clerk? They all double as island security.”

  Huh. That was interesting. And something that Carthright hadn’t mentioned to Eric. Probably because the guy hadn’t known. Natasha seemed to be in charge of everything that happened on the island.

  “Apparently, it is standard procedure to hire former military personnel here. So most of the folks here used to work for Uncle Sam.” Cole glanced at Linc. Held his stare. “That’s the background I used. Former military. My background. Only I left out the parts of my life that focused on Wilde. Seems that the island prefers those who have a special skill set.”

  Okay, that shit was alarming. Because Cole’s skill set? He was good at killing.

  Voice still low, Cole continued, “Natasha said that because the island only catered to VIPs, safety must be the highest priority. Only staff members who can…in Natasha’s words, ‘take care of dangerous situations’—only those people are hired.”

  Wonderful. So, basically, they were surrounded by bad-asses pretending to be waiters and butlers and spa attendants.

  Cole reached for Linc’s water. “You two find anything of use yet?”

  “Blair’s ex mark is here,” Linc growled. “Not so much useful info as alarming.”

  He saw Cole’s hold tighten on the glass. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish he was,” Blair threw right back.

  Cole set down the glass. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Neither did Linc.

  Cole hesitated by the table. His attention lingered on Blair. “Do you need to be pulled from the mission?”

  Blair shook her head. “I’ve got this.”

  Cole glanced at Linc. Linc could read the uncertainty on the other guy’s face.

  “You heard the lady.” Linc would always back her up. “Blair has this.”

  The faint lines near Cole’s mouth deepened. “Tell me the name so I can keep watch.”

  “Edward Sharpe.”

  Cole nodded. “And if you need anything else,” he raised his voice so that it now carried easily to anyone nearby, “please let me know.” He turned on his heel and marched for the table with the arguing couple.

  Blair blew out a slow breath. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?” Her fingers played with her napkin.

  “Do you think you’re at risk?”

  She held his stare. “Edward might be pissed at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I took something from him.”

  Do not say his heart. Do not say that the joker fell in love with you and you took—

  “I stole a Van Gogh painting from him. I mean, he stole it first, and technically, I stole it back because it belonged to—”

  Linc laughed. A totally relaxed and happy rumble that spilled from him. “God, I love you.”

  She blinked. Glanced around.

  “I love the way your mind works,” he amended smoothly because he could be ever so smooth when necessary. “You think the guy is mad because you swiped his Van freaking Gogh?” He’d dropped his voice.

  Blair nodded.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  “You’re probably right,” he allowed. “Might be cause for him to be pissed.”

  “He doesn’t technically know I took it.” She bit her plump lower lip. “I just happened to vanish at the same time his painting did. His stolen painting.”

  “Why didn’t his ass get locked up in jail?”

  “Because he…might have had a deal with the government.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice, too. “I wondered why he wasn’t just arrested at the time, but I did some digging and found out that he stole some things for Uncle Sam, too. Usually the government looked the other way when he picked up items for himself, but the Van Gogh was just too big to ignore. So I was called in.”

  He couldn’t look away from her. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner that you were a master thief. I am so turned on by you right now.”

  A laugh sputtered out of her. “Stop it. You’re just trying to distract me.”

  Of course, he was. He was also telling her the truth. He was pretty much always turned on by her. “You don’t need to stress. So I want you to laugh and relax. It’s good for you and for our cover.” He leaned even closer. “Now, come on, tell me…what’s the best thing you’ve ever stolen?”

  Her laughter faded. Her gaze dropped to the table. “Blair Kincaid’s life.”

  What?

  She shook her head. Tossed her napkin down on the table. “We’ve been here long enough. We need to get moving.” She rose.

  He stood instantly, too, but her words were replaying in his head. What the hell had she meant about Blair Kincaid’s life? He took her elbow and pulled her against him. “Blair—”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s here.”

  Linc knew which he she was talking about.

  “And he’s staring straight at me.”

  She turned her head so that she was gazing up at Linc. Lips barely moving, she told him, “Edward positioned his body to the left, near the wall so that he was half-hidden behind the palms. I didn’t even notice he was there, not until now.”

  Linc hadn’t noticed the guy, either, and he’d been scanning the restaurant throughout the meal.

  “How long do you think he was watching me?” she whispered.

  Linc’s left hand skimmed down her back. “Too long.” He’d warned the guy, but Eddie hadn’t taken the hint.

  Or maybe…maybe it wasn’t the hint he’d taken.

  Maybe it was the bait.

  Because Eddie—Edward Sharpe—was a master thief who got off on stealing valuable treasures. Perhaps he’d decided to steal not just art, but people, too.

  Linc leaned toward Blair. He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. Pressed his lips to her skin. She was wearing a sundress that tied behind her neck. Light, gauzy, soft red. Her shoulders were bare and his mouth skimmed over her smooth skin.

  If Eddie wanted to watch, Linc would give him something to see. His mouth moved up her neck.

  Blair tipped back her head. “Linc…”

  “I’m on my honeymoon, remember?”

  She swallowed.

  “Is he meeting with anyone?” Linc asked. “Or is he alone?”

  “He’s talking with Natasha,” she murmured.

  Ah, two possible suspects. “Good.” Linc swept Blair up into his arms.

  “Linc!” Surprise echoed in his name.

  He laughed and held her tighter right before he kissed her. They wanted attention. They wanted to make sure the bad guys were focused on them…

  Here we are.

  He kissed her and then he carried her out of there. He knew he probably looked like a love sick—or lust sick—fool and that was perfect. That persona went with his image exactly as he needed.

  Blair’s body was soft
and relaxed in his arms until they headed for the fountain and then—

  She stiffened. “Show’s over.” Her voice was low. For his ears alone. “You can put me down now.”

  He didn’t. He tightened his hold and kept walking. “If I put you down,” he told her reasonably, “then I don’t get to impress you with my incredible strength. You don’t get to be all excited by my muscles.”

  “All excited by—” Laughter slid from her. More real laughter. God, he loved her real laughter. Sometimes, when she really got going, Blair lost herself and she even snorted. The cutest fucking little snort in the world. When she made that sound, though, her eyes would widen. Her cheeks would flush, and she’d cover her mouth like she’d done something wrong.

  Of course, all of that just made him want to get her to laugh again. Harder. Longer.

  “Admit it,” Linc teased as he strode forward with her still in his arms. “You think I’ve got some bad-ass muscles. I will flex for you and—”

  He fucking felt the bullet whiz past him. Felt it because that sonofabitch grazed his arm right before it plowed into the fountain near him, sending chunks of stone flying into the air. Dimly, he was aware of the bam that came with the gunfire but what was driving him crazy, what was making him nearly lose his mind was the fact that—

  Blair’s head. Blair’s head was resting on my shoulder. It had been inches away from the bullet.

  He immediately hurtled to the ground with her. His body covered hers as he pushed them behind the fountain. His hands flew over her. “You okay?”

  She shoved hair out of her eyes. “Someone just shot at us!” Her gaze burned with fury.

  “On our honeymoon,” he snarled back. “That shit is not cool.”

  “No, it’s not,” she huffed.

  He had a knife hidden on him, but a knife wasn’t much good in this current situation, not unless he could get to the shooter. Sneak up on the bastard and shove the knife into—

  “What happened?” Natasha came barreling down the steps in her high heels. “I thought that I heard fireworks?”

  “Get down!” Linc roared at her. “That wasn’t fireworks. It was a gunshot!”

  She gaped and didn’t get down.

  Luckily, Cole was right behind her. He grabbed her and shoved her back inside the main building. “Everyone stay in there!”