Protected (Deadly Secrets Book 3)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  She didn’t want to move away from him, but she wanted to see his eyes when they had this conversation, so she pushed back. “So they don’t think Julian did this?”

  Hunt dropped his arm from her shoulder. But he didn’t make any move to scoot away, and she liked that too. “They don’t have any evidence yet that ties him to it. The Feds have been questioning him for hours, and he hasn’t cracked. That doesn’t mean he won’t, but Callahan said they’re leaning away from the theory he was involved.”

  Kelsey wanted to be relieved by that fact but wasn’t. Her gaze slid from Hunt’s eyes to the black T-shirt stretched seductively across his chest, then down to the worn jeans on his thighs. She didn’t want to believe Julian could be involved in something so heinous, but she couldn’t shake the feeling what had happened today had somehow been linked to her. The same way she hadn’t been able to shake that feeling of impending doom she’d experienced right before the building had come down.

  “How long can they keep him in custody? Until they know for sure if it was him?”

  “No. Without probable cause they can only hold him for about twenty-four hours.”

  Which meant by tomorrow this time, if not sooner, he’d be out on the streets. She turned back toward the black screen and told herself he wouldn’t do anything stupid when he was released. But she hadn’t really expected him to do anything today, and look what had happened when he’d seen her with Hunt.

  “Hey.” Hunt’s hand grazed her back, gently tracing the length of her spine. “The cops will figure this out. I have total faith in Callahan. He’s one of the good guys.”

  Kelsey didn’t doubt that. She couldn’t see Hunt being friends with someone who wasn’t.

  “Even if they can’t hold Benedict, they’ll keep a close eye on him until they know for sure he wasn’t involved. And I promise he won’t get anywhere near you. You’re safe here with me, Kels.”

  She knew she was. She was lucky. But what about the other people who’d been caught in that blast?

  “I know what I saw on my phone,” she said, trying to convince herself she wasn’t crazy. “It wasn’t a coincidence that the threat came through right before the building went down.”

  “I believe you. And they’ll find your phone. Don’t worry. Callahan’s got everyone looking for it.”

  She wasn’t sure what good that would do. It had probably been crushed in the collapse.

  As quickly as the thought hit, her mind shot to that production assistant who’d ripped the phone from her hand, and her stomach pitched all over again. She had no idea if that woman was alive or dead. Hadn’t even caught her name so she could listen for it on the news.

  “In the meantime, I’ve got some burner phones here. I’ll get you set up with one so you don’t feel disconnected from the outside world.”

  “Burner phones?”

  He smirked. “Techno-toys. Perk of the job.”

  A buzzing sounded from the direction of the main elevator before she could ask more, and Hunt dropped his arm from her back and pushed to his feet. “That’s the food I ordered. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Kelsey didn’t feel like eating. Didn’t think she’d ever feel like eating after this day. But she didn’t say so. She slowly pushed to her feet as Hunt hit a button on what looked like an intercom by the front door, told whoever was downstairs he’d be right there, then grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and glanced her way.

  “I gotta run down and grab it. Why don’t you find something to drink? There’s water, juice, and beer in the fridge. Or you can choose a bottle of wine from the sideboard. I’ll be right back.”

  He flashed her a weak smile just as he stepped onto the metal car, and she returned it. But the second the elevator doors closed, her face fell, and alone she glanced around the massive apartment, wondering what the hell was really going on.

  If Julian hadn’t set that bomb, then who had? And why had they threatened her just before it had gone off? She was a nobody. She moved toward the sideboard in the dining area and pulled open the bottom cupboard doors. Okay, she could admit she wasn’t a total nobody, not after her fashion debut in New York, but barely a somebody on the scale of famous somebodies. Why would a random terrorist threaten her just before destroying that building if she wasn’t somehow personally involved?

  Frustrated at the questions swirling in her head, irritated her emotions kept swinging from one extreme to the other, she stared down at the impressive wine collection in front of her, surprised yet again by what she was seeing. In all the times Hunt had visited his parents’ house or they’d both attended a get-together at Alec’s place, she hadn’t once seen him with a glass of wine in his hand. Beer, yes. But wine? Never.

  Since she’d never been good at picking wine, she looked at the labels and spotted one that looked familiar. Setting the bottle on the table, she moved into the kitchen, found two wineglasses in the cupboard, and was just bringing them back when the elevator doors opened and Hunt stepped into the room carrying two white plastic bags.

  Her stomach instantly warmed, a reaction she told herself had nothing to do with that crazy kiss earlier that meant nothing and everything to do with simple fact he carried food.

  “I wasn’t sure what you felt like eating, so I figured comfort food was the safest bet.” He set the bags on the table, moved around the counter into the kitchen, and grabbed plates and forks.

  The sweet and spicy scents of Italian food filled the air. Suddenly ravenous, she pulled at the bag closest to her and flipped the box open and stilled at what she saw.

  Hunt’s footsteps sounded close, and he slid a plate near her hand. “I hope I got that right. Spaghetti Bolognese is what you always order, right? There’s lasagna in the other box if you’d rather have that instead.”

  He’d remembered. Tears sprang to her eyes again, irrational tears that came out of nowhere. Tears that had nothing to do with what had happened today and everything to do with the fact he’d not only paid attention to what she liked the few times he’d eaten out with her family, he’d remembered.

  She blinked rapidly, trying not to let her reaction show. “Yeah. That’s . . . that’s right.”

  “Good.” He reached for the wine she’d set on the table and moved into the kitchen with the bottle. “Sit down and start eating while I get this open.”

  She slid into a chair, spooned a helping of her favorite dish onto her plate, and lifted a bite toward her mouth. And as she did she tried not to think about how sweet the man currently taking care of her was. How considerate. How unlike Julian and every other guy she’d dated. And how stupid she was for overreacting, overthinking, and just plain overinternalizing everything.

  She smiled as he set a glass of wine in front of her and told herself she didn’t care what she knew about him or didn’t, what was normal for him when he was protecting a client or not. She needed this. She needed him tonight. She wasn’t going to worry about looking needy or weak. She was going to let him be her strength for as long as it lasted. And she was going to be thankful that tonight of all nights, she wasn’t alone.

  He never should have refilled her wineglass. Definitely shouldn’t have suggested they watch a movie together on the couch after dinner. And absolutely should not have sat close enough for her to lean against him.

  Hunt had no idea if Kelsey was awake or asleep against him. All he knew was that her heat was like a furnace pressing against his side, and even though he’d known it was a terrible idea to slide his arm around her to make them both more comfortable, he hadn’t been able to stop. Now he didn’t want to let go.

  The credits rolled down the screen. He’d barely caught any of the movie and couldn’t describe the plot even if his life depended on it. The minute Kelsey had leaned against him, his gray matter had short-circuited, and every bit of his focus had zeroed in on her. On how soft her skin was and how hot her body was, on how feminine and sweet and perfect she felt tucked under his arm.

&
nbsp; Holy hell, he needed to let go of her. Needed her to go into the guest room and lock the door so he wouldn’t be tempted to give in to every primal urge now circling in his brain. She was his best friend’s little sister. Totally off-limits. He was assigned to protect her. Not screw her into next week.

  Fabulous. Thanks to his little internal pep talk, now all he was going to fantasize about was the sounds she made when she came. Way to go, dumbass.

  A heavy sigh echoed from beneath his arm, and then she stretched and gently pushed against his chest to peer up at him with a sleepy, sexy-as-hell expression he itched to kiss right off her angelic face. “Is it over?”

  “Yeah.” Slowly, so she wouldn’t notice, he tugged the throw pillow across his lap so she didn’t accidentally see what all her sultry heat had done to him. What it was still doing to him. “Just finished.”

  She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t see how it ended.”

  He hadn’t even seen how it began.

  He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from her features because she looked delightfully rumpled and all he wanted to do was rumple her up even more. “Why don’t you go on in to bed? I’ll turn everything off out here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  No, he absolutely wasn’t sure. He could think of a thousand other things he wanted her to do, but none of them were safe.

  “Yeah,” he forced himself to say. “Go on.”

  She stared at him a moment. Blinked in that sleepy way that told him she was only half seeing him, then smiled weakly and leaned forward. “Thanks.”

  Her soft lips brushed his cheek, just as they had outside the ER earlier, and the simple action sent blood screaming right back into his groin.

  Her lips were gone way too fast. Before he could even think about pulling her back, she was on her feet and shuffling toward the guest room.

  Where she belongs, idiot.

  “’Night, Hunter.”

  God, he even liked the way she said his name.

  “’Night, Kelsey,” he managed.

  He waited until he heard her door close. Waited even longer for her to stop moving around in her room. And only when he was confident she was in bed and out for the night did he lean forward and swipe a hand down his overheated face. “You are so fucked, O’Donnell.”

  He was. And not in any way he wanted to be.

  Shaking that thought off, he pushed to his feet and moved through the apartment, flipping off the TV and lights, cringing at the pain in his leg. Just as he was stepping into his own room, intent on passing out so he wouldn’t be tempted to do any of the dozen things he knew would get him in trouble, his home phone rang. He grabbed it from his nightstand, hoping it was Callahan with an update, then frowned when he recognized the number.

  Shit. He wasn’t in the mood to answer, but he knew if he didn’t, she’d only call back. And a twinge of guilt cut through him when he realized he hadn’t even thought of texting her about what had happened today.

  Closing his bedroom door, he hit “Answer” and moved toward his bed. “Hey, Genevieve.”

  “Oh my God, Hunter! Are you okay? I just found out what happened in Portland. Were you there?”

  “Yeah.” He sank down to the end of his bed, wishing like hell he could have just hit “Decline” on his phone even more. “I was there. I was with a client who was about to appear on that morning show when the building collapsed. I’m fine, though.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me after you were found, you asshole? I had to hear about the bombing from my coworker during my layover this morning! And then I had to see it on the news tonight!”

  Two things hit Hunt at once: First, Genevieve had heard the news but hadn’t called to check on him until now—more than twelve hours after the fact. And since he’d talked to her last week, she’d known he had a client scheduled to appear on that show. But secondly—and more importantly—she’d said she’d seen “it” on the news. He wasn’t sure what “it” was, but if “it” had made her suddenly call when she hadn’t been interested before, he had a strong hunch “it” wasn’t just footage of the bombing aftermath. “It” was either him getting into a fist fight with Julian Benedict or him kissing the hell out of Kelsey McClane.

  Fuck. He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly wondering who else had seen that damn footage and why the hell he hadn’t stopped to realize there had probably been cameras rolling the minute he’d grabbed Kelsey and kissed her.

  “Who was she?” Genevieve asked with a bite to her voice.

  Bingo. There it was. He rubbed his suddenly aching temple, wondering why the hell her brothers hadn’t grilled him in the same way when they’d spoken earlier.

  “Hunter?”

  Dammit, he should have put an end to this no-strings fling he’d had going with Genevieve long ago. The only reason he hadn’t was because he just hadn’t wanted to deal with the drama.

  He definitely didn’t want to deal with the drama tonight, especially over the phone, but he also didn’t want to wait a week to do what he should have done months ago.

  He dropped his hand to the edge of the bed. “Just a woman who was pulled from the destruction.”

  “So just some random woman you were consoling?”

  He wasn’t about to get into his relationship with Kelsey with her or anyone else. “We’re not exclusive, Genevieve. You date lots of guys when you’re not with me. I’m sure you even kiss them too.”

  “You were kissing? The camera didn’t show that part.”

  Holy hell. He bit into his tongue. He was only making things worse now.

  “Well,” she said when he didn’t respond. “I guess you’re only human. I can forgive you for that, considering the situation. But I think it’s time we discussed being exclusive.”

  No way. This conversation was way past due, and he didn’t care whether doing it over the phone made him an asshole. Waiting would only make him an even bigger one. “No, we don’t need to discuss that. The long-distance thing is too much work.”

  She had the audacity to sound shocked when she said, “What are you talking about?”

  He worked for patience even though he was close to the end of whatever patience he had left. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. If this thing meant anything to either of us, you would have been down from Seattle as soon as you heard about the accident, and I would have tried to contact you as soon as I was rescued. Neither of us did that, which means it’s not that important. And that’s not a bad thing. It just means . . . it’s run its course.”

  “But . . . I would have come down right away, only I was so busy with work. You know I can’t text when I’m on a flight. I could come now, though. I’m off tomorrow. You shouldn’t be alone tonight. I could be there in a few hours.”

  Yeah, no. Not happening. The last thing he wanted was her here in his apartment. And that had zero to do with what had happened today and everything to do with the fact he just wasn’t interested anymore.

  “We had some fun times together, Gen. Let’s just leave it at that and move on. We both know it’s time.”

  She was silent so long he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. Then she said, “You’re wrong. And you’re just reacting like this because of what happened to you today.”

  He wasn’t. But he breathed easier knowing she wasn’t crying or getting hysterical or lashing out in anger over the phone. Which was another sign this conversation was way overdue.

  “I’m really sorry.” Man, he sucked at endings. Always had. No wonder he was still single.

  The best way to be. Safer that way.

  “You’ll change your mind,” Genevieve said. “I know you will.”

  He wouldn’t. But he didn’t say so. “Thanks for checking on me. I appreciate it. The day’s catching up with me, and I need to crash before I fall asleep on the phone. ’Night, Gen.”

  She didn’t respond, and after several seconds of silence, he gave up waiting and just hit “End.”

  Tossing his
phone on the side chair in his room, he blew out a long breath. Not the conversation he’d wanted to have tonight of all nights, but he couldn’t deny that part of him felt lighter just getting it over with.

  He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it on top of the phone on the chair, then flopped onto his back on his bed without even pulling off his jeans. Was he a total slime because he’d kissed Kelsey earlier in the day when he’d kinda sorta still had something going with another woman? Was he a prick because he’d been thinking nonstop about kissing Kelsey since then? Maybe. Probably, he realized. But both were nonissues since he was never kissing her like that again. The only thing he was going to do was focus on keeping her safe, doing his damn job, and not fucking things up worse with her or her family.

  That and figuring out what Benedict was really up to.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kelsey couldn’t sleep. She’d been tossing and turning for the last two hours, but every time she closed her eyes, she was right back in that pitch-black darkness, surrounded by all that debris, unable to get out.

  Throwing back the covers, she breathed deep and stared up at the ceiling in Hunt’s guest room as she fought the panic trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs. She’d left the bathroom light on and the door separating the two rooms open to remind herself she wasn’t in that nightmare any longer, but even that wasn’t helping. It was too quiet in this building. The walls were obviously some high-tech variety that blocked out city noise. If she could just hear something other than her rapid pulse and erratic breaths, maybe she could get some damn sleep. Maybe she wouldn’t feel like she was about to hyperventilate.

  Unable to stand the silence a moment longer, she pushed out of bed and crossed the floor. The living room was dark and quiet, but there was enough city light coming in through the wide windows to illuminate the room. Enough to see that Hunt had left his bedroom door open wide. Enough for her to spot the end of his bed and his bare feet on top of the comforter.