Beware Of Me

by Cynthia Eden

  No, he wasn’t.

  “I need to think, so I want you gone.”

  “We both need to go,” he said, fighting to keep the emotion from his voice. He didn’t want to force her to leave, didn’t want to reveal just how much he’d already been in her life, but…I can’t risk her.

  “I’m not leaving. I-I can’t.” She slid a hand over her face, and he noticed the tremble in her fingers. Hell, she was still recovering from the gunshots. She needed to be sleeping right then, not dealing with this mess. “I want you to walk away from me, Ethan. Just like you did before. If the FBI comes at me, I’ll—”

  “Don’t tell them the truth.” Because that would be another nightmare.

  Her hand fell. “I’ll handle them, and I won’t incriminate you, okay? If that’s what you’re so worried about, just relax.”

  “I’m worried about you.” Why couldn’t she see that?

  She slid around him, no longer meeting his stare, and she turned off the storm of water. “Leave now, Ethan.”

  Hell. “This is a huge mistake.”

  “Then it’s my mistake to make.”

  He didn’t move. He couldn’t. “You’re going to need me.”

  “I haven’t needed you in years.”

  At those words, he flinched.

  “You have a way of wrecking my world, Ethan,” she said softly. “I don’t want that anymore.”

  Every muscle in his body had turned to stone. “You mean…you don’t want me.”

  She didn’t speak.

  Fuck. He’d waited too long with her. But sometimes, you didn’t realize just what the hell you had…until you saw her bleeding out in the back of an ambulance. I can’t lose her. “When you get scared,” his voice was gruff, “when you think the world is going to pieces around you, I’ll be there. I can help you. I will help you.”

  Her solemn gaze finally rose to meet his.

  “Don’t forget that.” And, because he couldn’t help it, because he had to taste her before he walked away, Ethan closed the distance between them. His head lowered toward her, the movement slow, giving her the chance to back away.

  She didn’t. Her hands rose to his chest once more. Would she push him away? Shove him again?

  She didn’t.

  “Ethan…” There was desire in her voice. A need. He understood—they both felt that physical connection, one that nothing could ever seem to sever. “You are so wrong for me,” she said.

  And she was the only right thing in his world.

  His lips brushed over hers. Slowly. Carefully. He savored her. Tasted her just enough…just enough to make him want so much more.

  Then her mouth parted. Her tongue slid out and licked against his lower lip. That sensual touch went straight through his body, and his cock—already eager for her—jerked up even more. He took the kiss deeper. Made it harder as he tasted her—as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and thought of all the things he wanted to do with her.

  To her.

  If he’d been a better man, he never would have gone back into her life.

  But…fuck that. Screw being good.

  Ethan’s head lifted. “I’ll be close, when you need me.”

  Then, before he could change his mind, before he could give in to the temptation to strip her right there, Ethan turned and walked away. He kept walking, until he was outside of her place. He paused on the front steps, glaring into the approaching night, his hands clenched at his sides.

  It was easy enough to see the non-descript van parked at the curb. The FBI—so predictable. They’d be watching Carly for the night. So she’d be safe enough.

  He’d give her this night. Long enough to realize that she needed him.

  Then he’d have to take her away from the life she’d built. Because there was no choice. Not for either of them.

  ***

  He wasn’t the first one to find the target. Watching from the shadows, he saw Ethan Barclay stalk out of the building, anger evident in every line of his body as he paused to glare at the van on the corner.

  FBI agents were in that van.

  Well, well…so the gossip he’d learned had been true. The woman called Carly Shay was an important piece in the puzzle—the puzzle that was the disappearance of Quincy Atkins.

  He’d been trying to solve that mystery for years. A man like Quincy didn’t just vanish, not without plenty of help.

  As Ethan marched away, he settled back into the shadows. He knew the right time to approach his prey. And he also knew the right time to wait.

  The FBI wouldn’t be around forever. Carly Shay wouldn’t always have a guard. The minute she was vulnerable…

  Then it will be my turn for a little one-on-one time with Carly…

  Chapter Two

  Carly hadn’t packed a bag. She also hadn’t slept much, either, but the next morning, she was dressed and ready for work and she hurried out of her building with the intention of getting her life absolutely back to normal.

  She wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t going to let Ethan scare her.

  She also had decided—around two a.m.—that a big reveal to the FBI probably wasn’t in her best interest, either. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail. Not for the death of a murdering¸ raping bastard like Quincy Atkins.

  Her heels clicked over the pavement. There was a cable company van parked a block away and she glanced over at it quickly. Maybe they’d finally get her service back up and running. Maybe—

  Her phone rang.

  Pausing just a moment, Carly pulled it out of her purse and glanced at the screen. When she saw the number there, Carly couldn’t help but tense. She’d been avoiding this particular call for a reason.

  She started to ignore the ring but…

  Deal with it. Deal with him. Her finger slid across the screen and she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Carly?” The voice was smooth and deep, easily recognizable even though the caller then said, “This is Dr. Nelson. I’ve been worried about you.”

  Right. Because he was the worrying type.

  “You missed your last appointment…”

  That would be due to the fact that she’d been in the hospital, unconscious. But she didn’t tell him that. He’d probably freak out. “Sorry about that,” she said, quickening her pace even as she glanced around her. Because of Ethan, she felt a bit hypersensitive, as if a boogeyman might jump out at her any moment.

  I met a real boogeyman once. He’s dead.

  “I was…out of town,” she added, voice a bit breathless as she hurried.

  There was a tense pause. “Is everything all right?” Dr. Nelson asked, obviously, he was worrying again.

  All right? No, not even close. “Yes,” she lied. “It’s great.” It was way easier to lie to her shrink over the phone than in person.

  “Are you planning to come in for a make-up appointment?”

  “Actually…no. No, I think I need to take a break.” Dr. Nelson had been helpful enough when she’d first started seeing him, but lately… “Thank you for all you’ve done, but I—”

  “Carly, I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. I want to help you.”

  She paused at the crosswalk.

  “Come in today. After you get off work. We’ll tie up loose ends, and if you want to discontinue your therapy, that is certainly fine with me.” There was the faintest hum of sound then he said, “You should know, though, some…visitors have been here, inquiring about you.”

  The light changed. She didn’t move. “What kind of visitors?”

  “The FBI.”

  No, no. “You didn’t…you didn’t tell them anything, did you?”

  “Absolutely not,” he assured her at once. “You’re my patient, but the questions they asked—I’m concerned, Carly. We really must talk.”

  Jeez. Right. “I’ll be there after work.” But that would be her last visit. She was sick of poking into that particular wound and sick of being told that she’d alwa
ys have to face the monster in her mind.

  Why couldn’t she just shove him into some deep, dark hole and move on?

  She pushed the phone into her purse and moments later, she was hurrying down the stairs that would take her to the subway. Her eyes adjusted quickly in the stairwell, and she rushed forward, moving as fast as she could until—

  Someone grabbed her. Hard hands yanked her back into the shadows at the base of the stairs. Carly opened her mouth to scream, but a sweaty palm was slapped over her mouth even as the sharp point of a knife pressed into her side. “Not a word,” her attacker rasped. “Not a—”

  She slammed her high heel down on his tennis shoe. As hard as she could. In the same instant, her elbow plowed back into his stomach. Her attacker’s hold eased on her, and Carly screamed—as loudly as she could even as she leapt forward.

  “Bitch!” The knife slashed down. Carly saw the glint of the blade coming for her. She didn’t stop, but hurtled forward—right into…Ethan?

  His hands closed around her and a fast glance at his face showed a mask of cold, absolutely lethal fury. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest and yes, maybe, she was glad to see him.

  “Ethan—” Carly began.

  But he had already pushed her behind him and lunged toward her attacker.

  That was when Carly realized a crowd had gathered down there. Some people reached out to her, asking if she was okay. Others—well, they stood there, filming the scene with their phones. What in the hell?

  The man who’d grabbed her tried to run, holding the now cut strap of her purse.

  Is that what he was doing when the knife pressed to my side?

  Her attacker didn’t get far. Ethan caught him by the nape of the neck and yanked the fellow back. “You’re not going any damn place.”

  The attacker whirled around, jabbing out with his knife.

  Ethan dodged the attack easily, then caught the guy’s wrist. He squeezed that wrist until the attacker screamed. Did Ethan break the fellow’s wrist?

  Someone was calling for the cops. Carly could hear the frantic call, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Ethan.

  The man who’d attacked her—it wasn’t really a man. More of a boy. Long hair. Thin face. Too big clothes. His green eyes were wide with terror as he tried to fight Ethan. It wasn’t a battle that the guy would win.

  Because with two hits, Ethan had him on the floor. Before he could go for a third punch, Carly called out, “Stop.” Her voice had been low, nothing like the excited buzz around her.

  But Ethan heard her voice. His fist stilled. His head lifted. His gaze met hers.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  He bent, grabbed her purse, and strode back toward her.

  Just a mugger. Not some crazy ghost from my past. A mugger.

  Ethan stood in front of her now. The faint lines near his eyes had deepened, and there was no missing the rage burning in his stare as he held her purse out to her.

  Carly took the bag. The knife had sliced right through the strap. She hadn’t even felt it when the purse fell away from her shoulder. She’d been too intent on getting away from her attacker. “Thank you.”

  A muscle jerked in Ethan’s jaw.

  She glanced around at the crowd. A few people were still filming with their phones, and a uniformed cop was trying to push through the crowd.

  Her gaze slid back to Ethan. “You were following me.” That was the only explanation for his sudden appearance. And she should be mad—following someone like that definitely qualified as not normal. But…

  He’d just saved her ass. So it was rather hard to be mad at that particular moment.

  His hand lifted, and his fingers brushed over her cheek. She didn’t flinch at his touch. In fact, Carly actually felt herself lean into his hand.

  Then he pulled away. He turned and just left—without a word.

  “Miss!”

  Ethan had headed for the stairs.

  “Miss!” The cop was beside her now. Ethan was gone. “Miss, I need to find out what happened here…”

  What happened? She’d been attacked. Ethan had been there, pulling bodyguard duty and now…

  He was gone.

  Why do I feel so cold? Why do I want to call him back to me?

  Maybe that appointment with her shrink was a better idea than she’d realized. Because wanting to fall back into Ethan’s web was a very deadly mistake.

  ***

  Because of the mugging and the resulting too long talk with the cop, Carly was late for work. And as soon as she went inside, she knew that trouble was waiting for her. Because Fiona Rice, her supervisor at the small PR firm, stood just in front of Carly’s office door.

  Oh, crap.

  “Fiona,” Carly began quickly. “I can explain…”

  She liked Fiona. The woman was intense, a bit edgy, and definitely on the OCD side but—

  Fiona waved away her explanation. “You’re wanted…” Her voice lowered. “Upstairs.”

  What?

  “You’ve been requested for the new PR campaign for the Reflections club that is opening in town.” Fiona gave a firm nod. “This is huge. So huge. And since I’ve been training you…the job you do will reflect on me.”

  So don’t screw up!

  The other woman didn’t say those words, but Carly understood. Completely.

  Then Fiona shocked her—the woman grabbed her hand and practically pulled Carly toward the VP elevator. Or at least, that was how Carly thought of it—only the Very Important People at the company ever went up in it.

  “There’s talk,” Fiona told her, voice still hushed, “that the big boss is in town. I’ve only seen him a few times since he took over the company, so if he’s here and you get to meet him…” She blew out a breath. “Tell him how awesome I’ve been.”

  “Uh, okay.” Fiona had let her go. Carly was in the elevator and she nervously smoothed her hair. She should have gone for the ponytail or a twist that day, something to make her look more sophisticated but she’d been pretty much running on nerves when she dressed and her goal had been to get out of her home as quickly as possible.

  Fiona jabbed a button on the elevator and hopped out. “Remember, don’t screw this up!” Then she gave Carly a big thumb’s up sign.

  No screw ups. Check.

  The doors closed.

  Carly’s reflection stared back at her from the mirrored surface of the elevator walls. “I’ll try not to screw up,” she muttered. But she was pretty much already a serious mess. Her clothes were scuffed and dirty from the attack in the subway. Her hair was definitely disheveled, and her cheeks were way too pale. Hardly the professional image that she wanted to present to the big boss guy. The guy who’d reportedly swooped in and majorly saved the whole place with a buyout. He’d let the employees keep their jobs and he’d pumped a boatload of new cash into the place. Mysterious and rich—that’s all she knew about the guy.

  The elevator reached the top floor far too quickly, and the doors opened instantly for her. She expected to see one of the assistants waiting for her as she crept out of the elevator.

  Instead, Ethan was there.

  His hands were shoved in his pockets and when he saw her, his eyebrows lifted—mockingly? “Surprise,” he murmured.

  She shook her head. And, once more, she looked for an assistant.

  But only Ethan was there.

  She got a sinking feeling in her stomach. No, absolutely not.

  The doors began to close. She was more than ready to ride right back downstairs.

  Ethan reached out, his hand sliding through the doors and activating the sensors. The doors retreated immediately, and he caught her hand in his. “I think we have an appointment,” he said.

  Not happening. It’s not.

  But he was guiding her through the office space and other people she recognized—executives, the power players—were nodding at Ethan as he passed them. They weren’t frowning in confusion or wondering why the hell someone a
s dangerous as Ethan was just strolling around their building.

  Because he belongs here. Oh, shit. He belongs.

  He took her into one seriously plush office and shut the door behind her. Then she heard the click of the lock. Carly couldn’t move. Not so much as an inch. Just breathing was hard.

  If he’s my boss…if he owns the PR firm…

  He owns my brownstone. My apartment.

  “You don’t own me.” Her words were out before she even gave them a second thought.

  “No.” He sighed. “I don’t. But we both know I’d move heaven and earth to possess you.”

  She whirled for the door, but Ethan was in her path. He didn’t touch her, but instead, he lifted his hands, and held them, palms out, in front of her. “Give me a chance to explain.”

  She wanted to scream. To attack. So she backed away. One step. Another. “You own this firm.”

  Watching her carefully, Ethan gave a quick nod. “It’s a rather…recent acquisition.”

  She knew that part. The new boss had taken over six months before. Right after I joined the firm.

  Ethan cleared his throat. “I’ve been branching out more in the last year. Despite what you may think, none of my business ventures actually have any criminal ties. They’re all legit, just like this firm.”

  Was she supposed to believe him?

  He sighed. “Look, fine. So I bought this firm shortly after you were hired. It was struggling, a plum ready for the picking, so I…took it.”

  The drumming of her heartbeat filled her ears. “You bought it because I was here.”

  His lips twisted in a half-smile. “Have that much of an opinion of yourself, do you? You really think I’d buy a whole business, just for you?”

  She stared at him. “I don’t like your games.”

  His smile faded. “This isn’t a game.”

  Carly rubbed her arms, hating the chill she felt in his office. “Who the hell are you? Ethan Barclay, crime boss? Ethan Barclay, freaking business entrepreneur, Ethan—”

  “I’m the man who wants to keep you safe.”

  “There isn’t a threat! The guy at the subway this morning—he was just a desperate kid!”

  His gaze flashed. “A kid who could have hurt you.”