Under Control

by Zoë Normandie

  “It never hurts to dream,” Carrick said as he pulled her back into him, running his gaze over her form for the hundredth time, his curiosity at maximum.

  What does Danica want? What does she do? Questions sprang to the front of his mind. Why did my client lie to me?

  “I have no shortage of dreams.” Her sweet smile betrayed a longing, and it was clear she noticed the way he was looking at her.

  “What do you do for work?” He pressed on as he ushered them farther down the ice.

  “I’m a nurse.”

  “At the hospital?” His gaze caught the city worker beginning the process of closing the rink.

  “No, at a family clinic,” she replied.

  “What else?” he probed. “Tell me more.”

  She let out a low laugh, as if in disbelief he would even say that. “I think it’s time to go.”

  Then she let her hand slip out of his arm, gliding one perfect white skate in front of the other on her way to leave the rink. As he followed, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, watching her closely as she moved. It was like he’d never met a woman before, never seen one. If he were a wiser man, he’d notice that his chest didn’t feel as tight as usual for the first time in too long.

  If he were a wiser man, he’d notice that he’d grown very distracted.

  “What about you?” She cut into his thoughts as she held on to the wall of the rink, stepping one foot through the gate. “Are you…?”

  If it weren’t for the sound of a man shouting as he sprinted toward them, Carrick would have caught what she said after that. The shouting was unmistakable, and for a second he felt like he could kill Delta for the interruption.

  Danica snapped her eyes open like a doe caught in the headlights, clearly frightened by the six-foot-five man running up to the gate. Delta grabbed onto the side of the rink with his meaty SEAL-build as he spoke to Carrick in low tones.

  “Moose, there’s a situation. We have to go.”

  Chapter Two

  Carrick

  “Oh God.” Danica sounded liked she’d been gutted.

  Carrick saw the fear in her eyes and instinctively pulled her into his body, shielding her, as he trained his eyes from left to right. The rink was closing, and the park had emptied.

  “Your four o’clock.” Delta’s voice was urgent. “Stay low.”

  As much as Carrick knew Delta had a tendency to overreact, he didn’t like the look of the idling car behind him to the right and the shadowy figure who had just gotten out. They were being watched.

  Shit, he thought, I let myself get distracted.

  “What’s going on?” Danica whispered in deep concern, looking all around. She recoiled, moving away from him. “Who are you?”

  “Come with me,” Carrick responded, his tone now cold and professional.

  As she parted her lips, obviously searching for words, he held her hand in the crook of his elbow so she wouldn’t run away. Handling her was growing too natural for him.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Delta said, pushing back from the rink and into the shadows. “Follow me.”

  As Carrick moved them both off the rink, he once again glanced at the far edge of the park where a dark car was idling. He clutched Danica tighter and felt her nervous panting.

  “I have to go…” Danica cried out, looking around for her escape. “I can’t be here anymore.”

  “No,” Carrick ordered her, and she sank back into him obediently. Her eyes betrayed the terror she must be feeling.

  That was exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. The back of his mind revolted and scolded him ferociously for being a fucking cavalier idiot. It wouldn’t have happened if he’d have stayed on plan, but he’d deviated from it and put them in danger.

  “I’m here to help you, not hurt you,” he informed as he helped her out of the skating rink and onto the rubber boards padding the ground.

  As her lips trembled, she was seemingly out of words as he held her close. She was obviously very afraid. He just didn’t know how much of it was directed at him.

  Suddenly, something in his mind pivoted and all he saw was a girl in trouble.

  “Danica,” he urged, only to find her holding her breath. “Shit.”

  What type of contract did I take?

  Carrick quickly shrugged off his black utility jacket and draped it over the shoulders of a reluctant Danica, and he put the hood up to conceal her identity.

  He looked back into her eyes and squeezed her tightly to him. “Do you trust me?”

  Her mouth dropped open and she shrugged in clear disbelief. She didn’t say yes.

  But she didn’t say no.

  As he kept her pressed against him, the moment felt like an eternity, and Carrick memorized every soft curve on her face. With that, he made a promise to protect her then turned his head to focus on the task at hand. Determined, he hoisted Danica up and carried her in his arms as he began a dash up the grassy mound of the park, not far behind Delta.

  Even with his skates on, cutting into the soft ground underneath them to propel their way up the hill, his thighs, thickly muscled from years of hockey, easily handled her added weight. He’d been used to hard drills with skates on in hockey, along with harder drills in the SEALs. It was nothing to run with her in his arms—skates or not.

  “Delta, where’s the goddamn car?” Carrick barked irritably as they crested the top.

  “Over there…waiting.” Delta motioned and made a break for it as Carrick nodded.

  Delta was used to how controlling Carrick could be.

  Even in mid-sprint up a grassy hill with hockey skates on, Carrick’s mind was grinding and calculating. All that SEAL training had taught him how to reassess on the fly. There was something really irking him. In no way was her reaction normal. It had been way over the top for a runaway girl. And in all their interactions, she’d seemed to be a sweet, put-together young woman. That was when Carrick knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a lot more to the client’s motives than what he’d been told.

  Danica dug her fingers into his shoulders, clinging for dear life as she bounced up and down in his arms.

  “Where are you taking me?” Danica sputtered.

  “I’m protecting you,” he growled, recognizing that it was growing more personal.

  “From who, exactly?”

  That’s an excellent question.

  At the top of the grassy hill in the park, Carrick steadied in the soft ground beneath him with Danica still in his arms. There was the black armored luxury SUV sitting at the top of the hill, just another couple of leaps across the concrete sidewalk. Carrick quickly lunged forward, whipping open the back door with one arm and hurling Danica onto the truck’s back seat bench with the other. Delta was already stationed up front as their driver. It wasn’t exactly how they’d planned the operation to go, but there they were.

  “Moose, glad to see you could make it,” Delta sniped with sarcasm. “Ready to blow this Popsicle stand?”

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Carrick pushed Danica across the bench, planting himself firmly beside her.

  He began loosening the top buttons on his black long-sleeve shirt, because he was melting. The truck was roasting hot in the interior—or maybe it just felt that way after his blood had gotten pumping as they made their run for it. It wasn’t just the level of effort to move two human bodies up a grassy hill on skates, but it was the anger that was bleeding across his eyes. He didn’t like being deceived, being fooled with, which was becoming increasingly more obvious.

  As the truck pulled away, the idling black car across the park moved as well, and Carrick had no doubt he would be seeing it again in short order. Whoever those assholes are, they are in for a fucking treat. Carrick narrowed his eyes, wondering who would willingly go up against a former SEAL, who was fresh out, and another SEAL, still enlisted. Battle rhythm coursed through Carrick’s veins, and he could taste blood in the water. As he closely followed the movements of the c
ar leaving the edge of the park, he just hoped and prayed they’d give him a fucking reason. He’d been pent up without release for too long, and giving these jokers some payback would be very satisfying.

  “Where to, boss?” Delta asked as he pulled the truck out of the parkway, turning from downtown.

  “Shake our tail first.” Carrick pulled off his black baseball hat and smoothed his hair back again. “Then back to the roost.”

  Carrick gave a curt nod and Delta flipped open the keypad in the center console. There, he’d added features to the armored truck. Of course, when Carrick had opened the business the previous year, he had been aware that he had to equip the company truck to get the job done. Delta knew exactly what to do. He hit a green button that lifted a pane of tinted glass, sealing Carrick in the back seat with Danica. The glass was bulletproof, dark and meant to stymie surveillance and protect VIPs.

  As the glass closed them in, Danica leaned back, her eyes wide, clutching her chest and taking labored breaths.

  “What is happening?” she pleaded softly. “Please, tell me what’s going on, Carrick.”

  “I’m taking you home,” he responded matter-of-factly.

  Carrick realized his tone wasn’t reassuring, but somewhere along the line, he had been forced to switch back to being the cold professional. He couldn’t let her in. He couldn’t risk any more distractions—and she’d become the biggest one of all. That, he hadn’t expected.

  Her eyes were still wild with fright and sweat was beading on her forehead. Her cheeks had grown pale, and she looked faint. Clearly, that wasn’t from running uphill on skates, since he’d carried her. He’d seen enough in battle to know when a rookie was in shock. Instinctively, as he’d been trained, he undid her seatbelt. Then he helped her from his hooded jacket and unbuttoned her thick gray sweater to help her breathe. As he got closer to her, drinking in her scent, her girlish vulnerability jumped out at him, threatening to once again pull him out of his military mindset. He gritted his teeth, continuing on. Pulling her sweater down her shoulders, he revealed her collarbone then her chest, letting her clutch the fabric of the loosened sweater across her lower arms and stomach. He didn’t miss how her perfect plump breasts rose and fell with her inhalations, which caused his mouth to water.

  Damn, he mumbled to himself, pushing the sight out of his mind.

  “Carrick…” she pleaded again, and he knew exactly what she needed.

  He just wasn’t in a place to give it to her.

  Focusing, he remained deep in battle mode and bent forward to take off her skates.

  As he indelicately yanked her socked foot out of the hard skate, it occurred to him that maybe she wasn’t just scared of the shadowy threat, but maybe she was also scared that she’d been kidnapped. Maybe she thinks I’m the bad guy? Taking a second to work through the problem, he moved to kick off his skates as well, then pulled on the well-worn black casual shoes he kept in the back.

  “I think we were being watched, but everything is going to be fine,” he grunted at her.

  The last words were both true and false. It had been wrong for him to guarantee her safety. He wanted her to be all right, but he didn’t know for sure that she would be.

  “We’ll take you home.” He sat back up, studying her.

  “No,” she wheezed, the dazed look in her face worsening. “Please, just let me go. Let me out.”

  She’s going to fucking pass out.

  Carrick instantly reached over and took the thick sweater from her, tossing it across the back seat. He leaned in to triage her but found another problem—the tank-top-clad form that had been hiding under the bulk of her sweater.

  Her very attractive form.

  He was always a man who knew quality when he saw it.

  “I can’t let you go… like this.” He trained his gaze up and down, unable to rip it away.

  With every breath, her delicious cleavage seemed to pour out of her top, taunting him. Her long, thin torso was complimented by slender hips that looked fit and athletic. He clenched his jaw, feeling a deep, unwelcome urge. The carnal part of his brain wondered how wet she was. That same hot feeling crawled up the skin of his neck, flushing it with heat, permeating his throat. God was unhappy with him again and testing his resolve.

  She’s a goddamn rocket.

  He found her gaze again—those unique eyes, heavily lashed and spellbinding. As if realizing her effect on him, Danica slumped backward, fear intensifying on her face. She was at his complete mercy. Her nerves were causing her to fidget in anxiety and anticipation as he grew closer, as though she was questioning what he was going to do to her. For a second, he didn’t know either.

  The hunger in him rose. Pure desire.

  It has been too long.

  As Delta sped down the parkway, taking random turns to clear their tail, Carrick found that he had stopped thinking about the threat and had grown focused solely on the shape of her lips and how much of her thigh was pressed against his.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice, while he lifted a rebellious hand to her cheek, just to feel it.

  What the hell am I doing?

  “No,” she whispered back, her eyes growing tearful, “I’m not okay.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I don’t know that.” She blinked out a few small tears, but she held back, shutting her lips.

  It was almost Carrick’s undoing when he allowed himself to look down at those trembling full lips. It was almost what made him finally let go.

  In that moment, he needed to wake up. The heat she made him feel was intoxicating. His discipline had faltered.

  Before he could do anything else, he reached over her shoulder, grabbed her seatbelt and drew it across her body, fastening it again safely. The click of the safety belt punctuated the end of the heated moment, and Carrick recoiled to a stoic, confident position. The stability and strength that were in his DNA flushed back to the front of his body, like a shield, and he realized that he needed to protect her from more than just one thing that night.

  Chapter Three

  Danica

  Sucking back the desire to sob, Danica took in a brave, deep breath as the black SUV barreled down the road. She tightened her fingers over the seatbelt that was across her chest and frantically searched back and forth, trying to process, to plan out her escape route. It wasn’t a time to cry. It was a time to figure things out. She’d been free for far too long to lose it all now.

  Who the hell is this guy? What the hell am I doing in his truck?

  There was something so in control, so persuasive, about him. It shocked her how she hadn’t just said no. That wasn’t like her.

  Her anxiety spiraling out of control, Danica tightened her lips as the SUV turned onto a downtown thoroughfare that was decorated for Valentine’s Night. She observed carefree couples lining the sidewalks to make their way to their destinations. Meanwhile, she was imprisoned in the back seat of a truck, isolated. This guy… I don’t know the first thing about him. But Danica felt an undeniable intensity coming off the mass of tall, strong muscle sitting beside her.

  It was shaping up to be the worst Valentine’s Day she’d ever had. She’d managed to lose her boot bag in the shuffle somewhere outside the rink. Now, in the back seat, in socks, she eyed the door for an escape. Could she subtly reach down, grab her skates and bolt? She bit her lip, wishing she had the guts.

  Her frame stiff, she covertly glanced to the right, where Carrick sat beside her. As he studied their surroundings out of the window, she observed his powerful structure…presence. He slowly took in air, his mind clearly in deep focus. His masculine scent filled her nose. It was rich and warm and full of something she didn’t understand. One thing was very different about them. He was collected, dominating.

  Meanwhile, she was frozen in place, shrinking.

  She surveyed the profile of his face. That long, patrician nose was perfectly situated in the middle of a face peppered with a dark five
o’clock shadow. He had dark hair frosted with gray at the temples. Wise-looking yet virile, his face was framed by a powerful jaw. The lines at the corner of his eyes spoke of experience, something she wanted to know more about.

  The more she knew, the more advantages she would have.

  She always tried to feel what was inside people—what made them tick. Her instinct told her that Carrick was a born guardian, strong and stoic. Yet, something indicated that there was a shadow lurking inside him, an element that she couldn’t quite put words to, something unusual.

  A shadow flashed across his face as he turned back to her—assessing her from the passing streetlights in the poorly lit back seat. His dark eyes promised curiosity and depth. Calculation. Control.

  “Who—who are you, really?” she asked, nearly tripping over the words.

  “I’m Carrick. I told you that.”

  A steel vault—just perfect, she thought as she chewed her lip.

  “And who’s he?” Danica continued on slowly, motioning to the front. “Is he your driver? Bodyguard?”

  Carrick smirked like she’d made a joke and shrugged her off. His lack of answers was telling and bothered her intensely. It was like he was talking down to her—as though she were a child. She should have guessed he would be that way, and the same wave of frosty wind chill splashed over her, just as if she were being dunked in icy-cold water.

  A little voice in the back of her head reminded her not to let him make her feel small, but she still shrank involuntarily under his sight, feeling less and less like a someone—less and less like the two of them were on the same side.

  As he watched her, the memory of his warm, weathered hand on her cheek flashed across her mind, sending her torment into overdrive. That intimacy was something she was even less prepared for. All the memories of the night came crashing down—how he’d saved her from the fall, how he’d spun her on the ice, how he’d made her wonder if he was really going to help her. And the way he looked at her… She’d allowed herself to believe that it was real.

  It was never real.

  Realizing her grave error, Danica shrank back from Carrick’s cold gaze. She had no doubt that this was who he truly was. She’d made a fool of herself believing otherwise. She should have run when she’d had the chance.