Protect Me (The Donovan Family Book 6)

by Margaret Watson

"Doesn't matter," she said without looking at him. "She sees a couple." Mia arranged the article and the two pictures in a row, the note beneath them. "You've betrayed her."

  "I've put you in harm's way," he said, running his hand up and down her arm. "Maybe I should have a different bodyguard."

  "No." Mia dropped the plastic bag onto the table and gripped the front of Finn's shirt. "She's threatening you, not me. I'm just a slut who's taking what I can get. You're the one who's destroying her dreams. You're the one she has to punish. She's coming after you, not me."

  "So what do we do?"

  "No more public appearances, for starters." She released her grip on his shirt, smoothed the area she'd wrinkled. "I'm sorry, Finn. Unless you're working, you're stuck in this suite until you go home."

  "I can live with that, as long as you're here, too."

  "Oh, I will be." She jumped up and began to pace, trying to ignore the flutter of her stupid, sappy heart. She needed to focus on her job right now, not Finn's words. "This is a good thing," she said, forcing herself to think about possible strategies. "She's angry. She'll get careless. Make a stupid mistake, and we'll have her."

  "And then you'll leave," he murmured.

  She didn't want to leave. Not after they caught the stalker. Not even after her two weeks were up. Mia stopped pacing, terrified by the realization.

  Her fingers trembling, she reached for Finn's hand. "Is that what you want? For me to leave after we catch this woman?"

  "Of course not," he said, tugging her against him. "I want you to stay until I have to leave." His mouth curled slightly and his eyes twinkled. She was pretty sure she'd see those eyes in her dreams after he left. "In fact, you'll have to stay. To make sure there isn't another stalker."

  She wound her arms around his neck. "You think we have nut jobs growing on trees in Chicago?"

  Finn's smile disappeared. "Not just in Chicago. Famous people attract them like shit attracts flies."

  "Two weeks stuck in a hotel room will be tough. You can have people come here, though. We can make that work."

  "Who would I want to hang out with? The people I work with for twelve hours every day? No, thanks." He nuzzled her neck. "My calendar is full for the next two weeks, anyway."

  Her heart fluttered with both dread and anticipation. "Plans I don't know about?" she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  "I think you can probably figure them out." He pressed a kiss to her mouth, took it deeper when she murmured his name against his lips.

  "Hmm," she said against his lips. The sound vibrated between them and streaked through the rest of her body. "Your godfather mentioned having dinner with you." She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, let it go with a tiny pop. "That would be fine. Probably nowhere safer than the superintendent's house." She bit gently on his earlobe. "Call Doug and tell him your schedule opened up."

  "I can't believe you're joking about this."

  "Not a joke. I'm telling you to have dinner with your godparents."

  "That's just mean," Finn said, easing her away so he could study her expression. "Why would I want to spend an evening fending off Doug and Marie's nosy questions?"

  "Because you love them and they're your godparents. You grew up with their kids. It's nice to catch up."

  He studied her as if she was an alien species. "You're serious. You really like all this family stuff, don't you?"

  She didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. Family is important." She pinched him lightly in the side. "And when you get a swelled head, Mr. Movie Star, no one can pop your balloon better or faster than your family." She laughed. "My brother Brendan already found that out."

  "Brendan? Why would someone have to pop his balloon?"

  "He writes an amazing blog that's a legend among cops, and he's almost done with a novel. A thriller. We all read the blog, but Bren didn't tell anyone about his writing, including us, until just recently. We're really proud of him, but when he starts talking about who's in the running to option the manuscript for his thriller, we all gang up on him. Tease him unmercifully."

  "Yeah? What's the name of his blog?"

  "Cops and Robbers."

  "That tee shirt you wore last night."

  "Yup."

  "Okay. So the Donovans can be counted on to keep me humble. I'll think about Doug and Marie. And for the record, I try not to get caught up in most of the Hollywood hype."

  "I know, Finn." She wrapped her arms around him and leaned against the solid muscle of his chest. Breathed in his scent. "I was trying to take your mind off that nasty stuff." She nodded toward the papers on the table. "For someone who's in so many tabloids, you're remarkably down to earth. It's one of your most endearing qualities."

  "One of?" He tightened his hold on her. "Tell me more."

  "Hmm," she hummed into his neck. "Let me think." She waited three beats, smiling into his skin, then said, "You wear dad pants really well. They make you look endearingly frumpy. Also endearingly pudgy. And you're kind of a dork. I suspect you actually read."

  "Wow. You're giving me a swelled head," he said, nuzzling her ear.

  "That's why you need to have dinner with Doug and Marie. They'll shrink it right down for you."

  "Speaking of Doug, do we have to call him tonight?" Finn asked.

  Mia nestled against Finn, wishing she could forget the letter and the pictures and drag him off to his bedroom. Sighed, knowing that would have to wait.

  "Yeah, we should. He'll probably want to send someone over tonight to pick the stuff up."

  "Can't it wait until the morning?" His pupils had grown, and his face was taut with tension. Color flared in his cheeks. He was thinking about that bedroom, too.

  "No," she said, letting him go and putting some space between them. "Phone him now and get it over with. The sooner he has someone pick that stuff up, the sooner we can discuss," she bumped her hips against his, "the swelling in other parts of your body."

  "Calling right now," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket while keeping his other arm wrapped around her.

  * * *

  "God! Finally!" Finn swept Mia into his arms an hour later. He'd barely been able to carry on a coherent conversation with his godfather, who'd come over himself to pick up the note and the pictures. All Finn had been able to think about was Mia and her plans for discussing the swelling in certain parts of his body.

  He'd been hard the whole time Doug was here, and he was pretty sure Doug knew it.

  He rested his chin on Mia's head. "I thought he'd never leave."

  "I wanted to boot him out the door." Mia giggled against his chest. "Might have been a career-ending move, though."

  He loved hearing that happy sound bubbling out of her throat. Every time his serious, focused-on-the-job Mia giggled, he counted it as a personal victory.

  His Mia?

  His for the next two weeks, he clarified hastily. And he wasn't going to waste a second of them.

  "You mentioned something about a discussion?" he said into her hair.

  "I did?" She subtly moved her hips against his, turning his already-hard dick into steel. "I lost my train of thought when Doug walked in."

  "You and me both," he muttered.

  "But we can discuss stuff if you want," she said, her voice all prim and proper. "A book we've both read, maybe?"

  "How about something we've both done? Recently, and not nearly enough." He swung her into his arms, grinning at her surprised squeal as he held her tight against his chest.

  "Put me down," she said, wriggling in his arms. "If you hurt your back because of me, I'll be directing traffic in the Loop for the rest of my life."

  "Okay." He dropped her onto the bed. Mia bounced twice, then sat up, laughing.

  "You're not joining me?" she said as she unbuttoned her shirt. She tossed it aside, and the silky red material pooled on the floor. She reached for the front closure of her black, lacy bra, fiddling with it but not opening it. Finn stared at her lace-covered breasts, mesmerized. Unable
to do anything but watch her.

  She eased open the button on her jeans, agonizingly slowly. He heard each tooth in the zipper click open as she lowered it, slow enough to make him howl with need. He wanted to dive onto the bed and do it himself.

  He made himself wait.

  Mia's breasts shifted in the lacy bra as she wiggled out of the jeans, emphasizing her cleavage. He fumbled with his own jeans as he watched her lower the dark denim, inch by excruciating inch. A hint of black lace appeared, and he swallowed. Clenched his fist to his chest, as if that could keep his racing heart from jumping out and falling at Mia's feet.

  Once she'd toed off her jeans, Mia leaned back on her elbows, letting him look his fill at her sleek, strong body. He couldn't move. Finally, smiling at him, she slid two fingers beneath the lace of her panties. "Looks like I'm gonna have to start by myself."

  Shuddering, Finn stripped his pants from his legs, followed by his boxers. His hands and arms got tangled in his shirt as he tried to yank it over his head, leaving him blind as well as trapped. Beneath the light blue fabric, he could hear Mia laughing.

  "Come here, babe," she said, grabbing one hand until he tumbled onto the bed. One of her hands slipped beneath the shirt to stroke his abdomen, her nails scratching lightly against his skin. The other undid the buttons. Slowly.

  "You like to tease, huh?" he said, tearing at the fabric that tangled his hands and hid his head. "You can dish it out, but can you take it?"

  She popped the last button free and pulled the shirt off his shoulders. Now he could see her, but his arms were trapped in the sleeves. She leaned over him, her breasts achingly close to his mouth. He thrashed at the sleeves, finally freeing his arms.

  Hands free, he yanked at the bedspread, pulling it down and over Mia, rolling her into it until only her legs were exposed. "Can you take it, babe?" he murmured, sucking on the inside of her thigh. She quivered beneath him, and beneath the bedspread, he heard her breath catch.

  He nipped at her thigh again, higher this time, and she keened as she thrashed her arms, finally freeing herself. "You are so evil," she said on a sharp inhalation.

  "You had your turn to tease. Now it's my turn." He wanted to rip off those lace panties and slide into her. Feel her hands gripping his and his mouth feasting on hers, drinking in her cries. But he ignored the ache in his groin, the tightness in his balls, as he slid his palms beneath those panties. Eased them down her legs, tossed them on the floor.

  "I'm begging, Finn," she said, her voice breathless and hoarse. "Okay? You win. Now. I need you now."

  "I like the begging part. Tell me more about that," he said as he moved closer to the junction of her thighs.

  "I swear I'll handcuff you to the bed," she groaned.

  "Threats, Mia?"

  She whimpered and arched off the bed as he slid two fingers inside her. "Yes." Her voice wavered. "Threats. The things I'm going to do to you, Finn O'Rourke…" She gasped as he found her sweet spot and stroked.

  She clenched around his fingers and flew apart, her cries filling the room. Finn eased her down, then reached for the drawer next to the bed.

  The next moment, she'd flipped him and was sitting on top of him. "I'm clean and on the pill. You clean?"

  "Yeah. Insurance checkup before filming began."

  "Then we don't need the condoms."

  He stilled. "You sure?"

  "I trust you, Finn." She touched his cheek, her fingers feather light. "Now I'm going to torture you for a while."

  He lost track of time as he bucked beneath her, choking out her name between curses and moans. She kissed him frantically, as if she needed him as much as she needed air. He gripped her hips, holding her in place as they rocked together.

  As they climaxed together, she collapsed onto his chest, her fingers fumbling for his. She bit his shoulder and sucked in a breath.

  "Finn. Oh, God, Finn," she sobbed.

  He held her tightly, reveling in the press of her limp body against his, the sawing of her breath against his neck.

  He buried his face in the mass of her hair, drinking in her scent. Memorizing it. No matter how long he lived, he'd never forget the silkiness of her skin against his.

  The soft waves of her hair, falling over his face.

  The sound of her voice, calling his name.

  He wanted to cling to her forever. Never let her go.

  The realization terrified him.

  Time to lighten this up.

  "Still need those cuffs?" he whispered.

  She opened her eyes and stared down at him, a shadow flickering in her eyes for a brief moment. Then she slid off him and trailed her fingers over his chest. "Depends."

  "On what?" he asked, his heart tight in his chest. He didn't want to feel this with Mia. Couldn't.

  She smiled, but her face didn't light up with joy, as it had earlier. "Whether you're going to be a gentleman and behave yourself. If you are, I definitely need the cuffs."

  Chapter 22

  Mia took a deep breath as she opened the door to the suite. It had been a week since she'd found the most recent envelope, and every day when they returned after Finn finished working, she'd braced herself to find another one.

  The contents of the last note hadn't provided any more information than the previous ones – no fingerprints, no saliva on the envelope, no identifying marks on the pictures.

  She stared at the floor as she pushed the door open, sighing with relief when all she saw was the rug. "We're good. You know the drill," she said to Finn, weariness heavy on her shoulders as she stepped inside. "Come in, but stay by the door."

  "Relax, Mia. There's been nothing since the last note," he said, leaning against the wall. He had to be ten times more exhausted than she was. He'd been filming action scenes all day, take after take, until he was soaked with sweat and out of breath.

  He'd had to change his costume at least three times.

  "Not going to relax," she answered as she headed for their bedroom.

  She froze. Their bedroom?

  Yeah. She hadn't slept in the other room since the second time she and Finn had made love. Her suits hung in the closet beside Finn's pants and shirts. She had a drawer for her underwear. This was their bedroom.

  She swallowed as she began to search the room. Finn left in a week. There wasn't a 'their' anything.

  After finishing Finn's room, she checked hers. Completely empty.

  "Shut the door and lock it," she said, tossing the purse holding her gun onto the table next to the door. "I'm hungry, and you must be famished. You want me to order dinner?"

  "Please," Finn said, heading for the bathroom. "Get me a steak and a salad. I'm going to take a shower." He stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. "You want to join me? Could be dangerous, though. The way my arms ache after those fight scenes, no way could I hold you up. I'd slip and fall. Kill both of us."

  "Then I'm not joining you," she called, and he disappeared into the room. "Very romantic to die in your arms, but I'd rather it happen while we were having sex when we're ninety-five."

  She slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh, God. Had she really said that out loud?

  The sudden silence in the other room told her she had. After a long moment, Finn stuck his head out the door. "Only ninety-five?" he said, his voice light. "I was thinking a hundred at least."

  He vanished again, and moments later, Mia heard the rumble of water hitting the slate floor in the shower. Thank God Finn was an actor. Able to pretend to make a joke out of her slip of the tongue. Laugh it off.

  Her hand shaking, she reached for the room service menu she'd already memorized. Ordered a steak and salad for Finn, halibut and a salad for herself.

  "Fifteen minutes, ma'am," the operator said.

  "Thanks," she said as she tossed the menu onto the coffee table.

  Collapsing onto the couch, she banged her head into the stiff cushion. Why the hell had she made that stupid crack about dying together at ninety-five? She had no excuse, o
ther than exhaustion. Ever since the last note, she'd been hyper-vigilant at the studio. She'd studied every actor, every crew member, every delivery person, every server and busboy from the catering company. She watched constantly, never letting herself relax.

  Every day, when they were finished, they'd returned to the suite and fallen into bed. Gotten up to eat, then retreated to the bedroom again.

  Sleep was the last thing on their minds.

  They never discussed Finn's departure. Unspoken agreement had them packing as much as possible into every moment as the hours and days ticked inexorably away.

  She'd thought about it. When she'd woken in the middle of the night, needing a glass of water, she'd study Finn as she gulped it down. He slept sprawled on the bed, arms and legs encroaching onto her side. On clear nights, his naked body was dappled by moonlight. When it was cloudy, the shadows turned his skin into smooth, dark plains, his spine the tiny hills bisecting them.

  His hair would be messy, rumpled by her fingers. His hand was usually on her side of the bed, where she'd had to crawl out from under it to get her water. Sometimes his fingers would twitch as she watched, as if recognizing her absence and searching for her, even as he slept.

  Yeah, when she was the only one awake in the middle of the night, she thought about how it would be after Finn went back to California.

  It wouldn't be good.

  She'd fallen in love with him. It was damn stupid of her, but there it was. Like countless foolish women before her, she'd fallen in love with the wrong man.

  At least she wasn't fooling herself into thinking that love would make everything all right. That they could figure out a way to make this work.

  Finn was leaving in a week. He couldn't stay in Chicago. She couldn't go to California. It had been an amazing two weeks, but dying in his arms when they were making love at ninety-five? Not happening.

  A knock at the door interrupted her pity party, and she pushed herself upright. Smoothed her pants, her hair, then reached for her purse. The Sig inside made it heavy, but she pushed it aside and dug for her wallet. Finn was generous with Josh, and she would be, too. The kid hadn't betrayed their trust. He hadn't told a soul he was their delivery boy.