The Protector

by Cristin Harber

  Chance made up names for the fish, providing fantastical details about the Great Abu-Dha-bowskis and Purple People Eaters. He regaled her with impossible stories of goldfish that were strong enough to sink pirate ships and seaweed that could be used as dental floss. Jane laughed and laughed and laughed, already missing him before they said good night and goodbye.

  “I’ve never met a guy like you before.” And, she was certain that she’d never meet someone like him again.

  He gave her a strange look but then joked. “Guess I’m one of a kind.”

  Sadly… She had to go halfway around the world to find the most interesting person she’d ever met. Forget how freakin’ hot the man was. Who else would come up with this day? No one, except for Chance.

  Chance paddled them closer to the dock, and they returned from where they’d set off from. The stout man reappeared out of thin air. Jane didn’t know how Chance had known where and when to go, but she realized, he always had an innate sense of what came next. At least one of them did.

  She was plucked from the kayak as easily as she’d been put on the water. The man took their life jackets and disappeared again. “My legs feel like wet noodles.”

  He slung his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t pull away. They ambled up the dock, and she breathed in the faint scent of their day together. She’d never smell incense again without thinking of souks—and him. Jane wished she hadn’t run from Chance on the rooftop.

  Embarrassment had changed into regret, and she wished he’d forget what had happened and would kiss her now. She wouldn’t run. Chance, kiss me. Jane slowed. The dock ended soon. The sedan would be in the parking lot. This was their last moment alone.

  He paused then stepped in front of her. Her pleading heart clenched, and she dared to lift her chin, to meet his stare.

  Chance towered over her. With the city lights and sounds held at bay, with the moonlight streaming down upon his chiseled face, she couldn’t look away. He gazed at her as if hungry and tormented, as though she caused him pain that he simply craved.

  A warm breeze rolled off the water, loosening her hair. He tucked the wayward strands behind her ear.

  “You did that in the desert.”

  He touched her hair again and then his knuckles swept over her cheek.

  Jane’s eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted, and Chance trailed his fingers across them. Her breath weighed heavy in her chest. His fingertips skimmed over her chin, her jaw with a touch fainter than air. Jane quietly moaned as his touch slid down the strumming pulse in her neck.

  Cold electricity bled over her when he pulled away. Jane almost protested—until his hands threaded into her hair. Chance tilted her head, and Jane trembled. Their bodies touched. The anticipation of his lips on hers made her weak—a brash chirp of a cellphone blared.

  She jumped then lurched back. Her hands covered her face. Jane didn’t know if she would scream, cry, or curse. Chance cursed, long and low before he opened his eyes again. His jaw ticked, and his hand went to his side. “Sorry. That’s an emergency call from headquarters.”

  Jane blinked hard. “Sure. Of course.”

  Chance stepped back as he answered the phone. “Yeah?” He listened and rubbed a hand over his face, into his hair. “Yeah.” He dropped his head back. “No. She’s here.” He paused, shaking his head. “Yeah. With me.” He hung up, pocketed the phone, and when he finally turned to her, she thought he might smash his phone. “Or, as it turns out, not an emergency call.”

  “They called about me?”

  “Angela was worried and jumped up HQ’s ass to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m okay,” Jane whispered.

  Their moment was gone. Judging by the blissful seconds before his phone rang, she was sure that she’d missed out on the world’s best kiss ever.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A phone call shouldn’t have changed a thing, but Chance would be lying if he didn’t sense the mood sober. Perhaps, there was a reason for the interruption—like he had no business kissing their client. Too bad Jane Singleton clouded his mind from the moment they clashed in Syria. Soon, she’d be gone. Abu Dhabi would be a distant memory, and he couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.

  “So.” He shifted his weight onto his heels. “We should go before Angela requests a search squadron to confirm proof of life.”

  “Sure. It’s late anyway.”

  Chance didn’t miss the forced edge to Jane’s nonchalant response. “Right.”

  They returned to the waiting sedan. With barely a word, their driver whisked them toward her hotel. Jane sat close to his side, but their tension wasn’t the same. He wished the night wouldn’t end. Or, maybe, he should have wished that it had never started. Everything would be easier if they’d part ways yesterday.

  The driver pulled into the driveway of the hotel.

  She turned sideways in her seat as though ready to sprint from him again. “I guess this is it.”

  Or, not. He wasn’t above dragging their time out until the very end. “I’ll walk you in.”

  Jane’s skeptical look didn’t confirm he’d said the right thing, but she didn’t protest. Chance told the driver he’d walk home from there, releasing the man from duty, then stepped out of the car and held out his hand for Jane. She took it, joined him on the curb, but let go and stepped away. The push-pull of their tension remained. Without giving her an opportunity to shy away, Chance placed his hand on the small of her back and led her inside.

  Somewhere between the front entrance and her elevator, he started to silently remind himself that walking Jane to her room didn’t mean inviting himself into her bed.

  The elevator arrived. His jaw tightened, and he steeled himself not to go upstairs. Chance gave her side a squeeze and urged her into the empty car. “Have a good night, Jane.”

  “Oh.” She spun to face him instead. “I didn’t realize this was—” The doors eased together. She twisted and stuck her arm out to catch them. They re-opened, and she turned to him again. “That this was goodbye. I thought you were coming upstairs.” She blushed. “I mean. Not coming upstairs. I didn’t assume you were coming up for, ya know—” The elevator door tried to close again. “Damn it, hold on. I’m not ready—” The doors tried to close again. She slapped at them, flustered and tongue-tied.

  He couldn’t help himself. Chance captured Jane between his arms and strode into the elevator. Her mouth parted. He towered over her, caging her against the wall. The elevator doors closed, deadening the murmur of the hotel lobby. Only theirs racing breaths punctuated the thick silence. Her chin tilted up. Chance savored the slip of time before he took what he’d been dying to taste. Then he claimed her mouth.

  Electricity scored his nerves. Jane came alive. His palms clasped her cheeks and he held her face until their tongues clashed. She knotted her fingers into the front of his shirt, twisting and pulling him closer until her knuckles sandwiched between their stomachs.

  This was more than he expected. Hell, it was everything that he had needed and then some—and that was the problem. Kissing Jane wouldn’t temper his desire for more, and more couldn’t happen.

  Reluctantly, he slowed their mouths and smoothed his hands down her neck and over her arms until he cupped her ass. She quietly moaned, and the throaty vibrations purred against his lips, making him feel as though her velvet tongue had stroked his cock.

  Unable to let go, Chance flexed his fingers into her soft curves. Jane arched, and he couldn’t pull himself away, instead skimming his lips to her neck. When he found a sweet spot, she blessed him with a husky moan.

  His swollen erection pressed against his jeans. Uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. His arousal thundered. He’d no idea it was possible to find growing, addictive satisfaction simply from worshipping this woman’s neck.

  The elevator doors chimed then opened. Surprised, scandalized voices disrupted their privacy. But the interruption hadn’t been enough to tear them apart. Their breaths raced. Their
eyes locked.

  Chance swallowed hard, forcing himself to inch back. “I wasn’t ready to say good night.”

  “That wasn’t a good night kiss,” she whispered.

  No kidding. It was also far beyond an invitation to bed. His blood rushed, realizing that he didn’t know shit about the best things in life; a list starting with Jane’s insatiable kiss.

  The elevator remained empty. The doors closed, and the quick trip to her floor wasn’t a particularly comfortable one.

  They exited and walked down her hallway. Every passing step weakened his will to say good night and leave, and then a crowded field of questions overtook his thoughts. The most basic being, why would he leave? He was selective, but Chance wasn’t a goddamn monk. Judging by their kiss, the sex would be cataclysmic. Why did he hang on to the asinine idea that sleeping with Jane would screw everything up?

  Jane slowed by a door and slipped her motel key from behind the top of her sundress. “This is me.”

  He stopped by her side, hesitating. It should’ve been easy to pluck the key from her hand and let them in. He wouldn’t have to say a word. As soon as the door shut, they could pick up where they’d left off. But he didn’t move.

  Neither did she.

  Shit. “Let’s go in.”

  That wasn’t strong enough to dictate what would happen next. Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted to unfold in the next few minutes.

  Wordlessly, Jane unlocked her door. That simple, silent agreement made his cock throb. His pulse beat in his neck. Both sensations did a bang-up job in clouding the cautionary questions of his conscience.

  They stepped through the threshold. The door clicked shut, and they stood close in the darkened hallway of her suite. The only light came from the windows. The curtains had been drawn open, allowing the city’s nighttime cityscape to take center stage.

  “The view’s amazing,” Jane whispered.

  God, he didn’t give two shits about the view in this room unless it was her, naked, in the middle of a bed. “Uh-huh.”

  He pretended to marvel out the large windows as she walked them farther into her suite. Truly, the view was unforgettable. But Chance didn’t want to stop looking at Jane. It might be the last night he’d see her—no—there was no might about it. He wouldn’t see Jane again.

  She continued to the window and placed her palms on the glass. “Beautiful but…” She tilted her head, glancing at him over her shoulder. “But nothing like everything we did today.” She turned and stayed against the window. “Thanks again for that.”

  Chance had left a few feet between them, and he couldn’t decide if that space felt like miles or millimeters. “My pleasure.”

  The desire to feel her skin on his overpowered most of his sane thoughts. Still… He wasn’t blind. She’d pressed herself as far away from him as the woman could get. The silence hung heavy like a warning shot: Jane couldn’t be a one-night stand.

  He licked his bottom lip and forced a small grin. “I should go.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say or do, and awkwardly extended his hand.

  Jane ignored his offer of a handshake and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their hug could’ve been very PG rated, if not for the massive hard-on her touch instantaneously inspired. He didn’t want to forget the way they fit or the scent of her jasmine shampoo. His eyes sank, and he didn’t pull away for a long moment.

  Her arms drifted down. “Thanks for everything.”

  For a scary second, he thought she might cry.

  Then Jane shook her head with a deprecating laugh. “It’s been an adventurous few days. Saving my life, taking me kayaking.”

  Kissing her senseless didn’t make her short list. Chance lifted his chin. Walk away. Go. Leave. Walk out the door. Moving his feet was like tearing concrete anchors from the ground. “Get some sleep.”

  “You too.” Her lips pressed together. “Maybe, one day, I’ll see you again.”

  That was what he needed to hear. The hope for the impossible. If she thought there was the slightest possibility they might meet again, he couldn’t stay another minute. He kissed the top of her head then turned, not willing to face Jane when he lied. “Maybe one day.”

  He left in a hurry, granting himself only one look back at Jane’s door, already knowing he would regret the way they’d left things—even if it was the best decision. The only decision. There wasn’t another choice. Tomorrow, she would be gone, and he’d be shipped off to God only knew where.

  Chance headed past the row of elevators and opted for the stairs. He flew down the steps, hoping to feel lighter as he put more distance between them. Instead, a weight bore down on his shoulders. He wanted to run back up the stairs with every passing floor. Finally, Chance arrived at the lobby and jogged out of her hotel.

  The night air didn’t do him good as Chance walked back to his hotel. One of the towers came into view, and Chance glued his gaze to the partially lit skyscraper. Under construction or not, that hotel was the home base for everything that mattered: Titan Group, his Aces’s teammates, and his home. His job and home life were entangled, yet Chance clearly saw the difference and couldn’t mix business with pleasure. Distractions would cause failure. Failing his teammates meant injury and death. Tonight, he’d made the right choice, but it sucked.

  Chance trudged through the security parameters that protected the building overnight and stopped in the center of the dark, empty lobby. His boots echoed hollowly, and he tried to imagine this place as a fully operational luxury hotel. He couldn’t.

  Worse, Chance tried to picture the future of this young team. He wondered what other teams existed. Would his perpetually be off-the-books? He’d never worked for an organization like Titan before, and Chance wasn’t sure if teammates came and left as life dictated changes or the other way around.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated that answers didn’t surface. Chance walked up several flights of stairs and let himself into an area that would one day become their war room. For now, it was an empty space, sparsely decorated with wires that dangled from the exposed ceiling and piles of metal framing, yet to be soldered together.

  He meandered to a metal fold-up chair and eased into it. The cold frame squeaked under his weight. Chance leaned back onto two legs and stared at an empty wall. One day, it would hold the best equipment the intel community had at their disposal. Everything would be different…

  Chance let the front legs of the chair drop. The harsh sound reverberated in the empty room. He rubbed a hand over his face and wondered how Jared knew how to envision the future. It seemed to come effortlessly. Boss Man met with architects and security experts, redesigning a hotel from the inside out, just as easily as he had created Titan Group’s teams of military operators. Chance respected Jared for many reasons. But he didn’t envy Boss Man’s ability to foresee impossible ideas and force them into fruition.

  What would it feel like to be aware of such potential? He dropped his chin and cursed, realizing that it had to be similar to falling in love.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Jane’s fitful sleep had done nothing to ease her heartache. The sun had come up too early, shining through the windows. She had pulled herself from bed, wondering what parts—if any—of this city would remind Chance of their time together. Maybe none, but she’d be hard-pressed to forget anything.

  How had she let this happen? She’d had fallen for him in a way that made air hard to breathe. Now, sitting in the backseat of a chauffeured Mercedes with Angela on the way to the airport, Jane still couldn’t catch her breath—or ignore the sad, dull ache in her chest.

  Angela momentarily looking up from her constantly buzzing phone and gave Jane a long look. “Are you okay?”

  Jane leaned against the window. “Not really.”

  She’d said that in such a way that Angela could understand. There was nothing to discuss. No words that could help.

  Silence hung over the remainder of the drive, only broken when the Mercedes pull
ed into a private entrance and the chauffeur spoke with the security officer. Their short conversation led to the entry barricade lifting. The sedan glided onto the tarmac, and they stopped planeside. The driver opened Angela’s door, assisted them as they stepped into the bright light, and then he removed a small carry-on bag from the trunk.

  For a pathetic second, Jane hoped that carry-on bag was for Chance, that he would surprise her at the airport like he did when she’d arrived.

  “This bag is for you.” Angela added an unnatural chipper tilt into her voice. “There’s a pair of shorts and a tank top for you to change into if you want more Western clothes. I also brought a pair of pants and a sweater.” She handed the bag to Jane. “You never know how cold flights can be.”

  Jane glanced at the luxury private jet. “You didn’t have to—”

  “Nonsense.” She shooed away the wayward compliment. “It’s my job, and it was far more fun to pick clothes for you than to make sure the guys have their jock itch powder or whatever.”

  Jane laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another vehicle approach. Her stomach flipped as the SUV stopped next to the Mercedes.

  Hope layered upon hope, and she almost prayed that Chance would open the door. Hagan did instead. Disappointment tightened her throat.

  Angela touched her arm. All signs of her chipper attitude had disappeared. The corners of her lips tightened, offering a worried smile. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m tired.” They both knew that was a truth and a lie. Angela possessed a sharp ability to assess a situation, and given too long together, Jane would admit she’d committed the ultimate party foul and fallen in love with her white knight.

  Fallen in love?

  Oh no. No, no, no. She’d fallen for Chance. That was leap years away from fallen in love.