Mason walked into the hotel lobby and instantly spotted his right arm man, Sterling Foster, sitting in the bar. Tall, blond and built like a mean fighting machine, Sterling had been his second set of eyes for years. Covering the ground between them, Mason slid onto a barstool next to his longtime friend. “What’s happening?”
Sterling motioned toward the television screen above the bar. “I don’t like this crime wave. Something smells wrong.”
A short, half-bald bartender approached Mason. “What can I get you?”
“Orange juice,” Mason said.
“What?” He looked at Sterling and then back at Mason. “You two on the wagon or what?”
Mason would have ignored the man but he wanted him to go away so he could speak openly with Sterling. “You got orange juice behind that bar or not?”
“Yeah, I got it.” The bartender grumbled under his breath and turned away.
Mason refocused on Sterling. “You think it’s the Arions?”
Sterling lifted a brow. “Don’t you?”
“Could be,” he said thoughtfully, “but I’m not certain.”
“Recent news has all the homicides linked to the female abductions.” Sterling spoke in a low tone despite the emptiness of the bar.
Mason didn’t like the way that sounded one bit. “You think they’re trying to reproduce?”
“Sounds like it to me,” he said grimly.
“I better make some phone calls.”
“Any luck with the Heart woman?”
“She had a visit from Walsh today,” he told him, shaking his head. “He needs to get out of this. All he’s doing is making her hate him, and the program along with him.”
Sterling took a drink and then sat his glass down. “You met her then?”
Mason responded with a flat tone, diverting his gaze to his glass. “Yeah, I met her.”
“Uh, oh,” Sterling said, his eyes narrowing. “I know you, man. What went wrong?”
Mason flicked him an irritated look. How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself? “It’s complicated,” he said a bit curtly.
“Meaning?” Sterling persisted.
The bartender sat Mason’s drink in front of him. Downing it without coming up for air, Mason tried to think. He sat his glass down with a clunk.
“Well?” Sterling asked. “Did you ask her for help?” Impatience now etched his tone.
“No,” Mason admitted grudgingly. “Not yet, but I will.”
“When?”
Mason gave Sterling a warning look. “You just stay on standby to help me get her out of here in one piece. I’ll let you know when.”
“We don’t have a lot of time here, Mason,” Sterling reminded him.
Mason gave him a look that would have made anyone else cower. Sterling, however, knew him too well to be intimidated.
“I’m quite clear on our position,” Mason said, pushing to his feet and briskly exiting the bar.
* * * * *
Holly sat at the lab table and eyed the specimen under the scope but her thoughts were on Mason and the all-too-consuming allure he held.
There had been several times during their earlier encounter when she thought he might kiss her.
She had wanted him to kiss her.
And she was certain he wanted it, too. She knew he did. Yet, each time, he pulled away at the last minute, leaving her both unnerved and unsatisfied. Forcefully, she shook off her reverie, mad at herself for being distracted from her work.
It wasn’t like her. But then again, neither was this seething sexual appetite. Normally, she would have been so completely absorbed in her work that nothing would have penetrated her scientific haze.
It was a common practice for her and Roger to burn the candle at both ends. Several of the other researchers on her team often did the same. They were all determined to cure any disease or malaise that would respond to genetic therapy. Each day they failed was a day someone might lose that very day of their life. Of course, the government was already causing so many to miss the opportunity for cures it was an upward climb, sometimes a seemingly impossible battle to win.
“You aren’t going to believe this,” Roger said walking toward her. “Walsh is here.”
“What?” Holly asked with wide-eyed surprise. She couldn’t believe Walsh was being so forward. Glancing at the clock on the nearby wall, she said, “It’s seven o’clock!” She lowered her voice, “How did he even know I was here?”
“Beats me,” Roger said. “I went up front to feed Dixie and he was snooping around our desks. Want me to get rid of him?”
“No,” she said, pushing to her feet, appalled at what she had just been told. Holly tugged off her protective gloves and tossed them in the trash can. “I have a few choice words to say to Mr. Walsh.”
Holly stomped toward the front offices, determined to get rid of Walsh once and for all. He had his back to her as she entered, apparently watching Dixie eat. “I hear Dixie had cancer,” he said without turning.
Holly frowned. Roger had a big mouth. “Had being the operative word. My research cured her.”
He turned around. “My wife died of cancer.”
For just a moment, Holly felt her resolve fading. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes fixed on her. “Making your dream a reality would be your reward for helping the military. Is that such a high price?”
Holly didn’t like being manipulated. He was trying to control her with puppet strings of emotions. Probably didn’t even have a wife. Her resolve thickened again. He was too rude to get a woman.
Behind her the phone rang and instantly she thought of Mason. Ready to be rid of her visitor, she said, “Forget it, Mr. Walsh. Now, are you going to leave or should I call the police?”
“Holly, telephone,” Roger said behind her, a hint of irritation in his voice.
Holly turned toward her desk to grab the phone. “Goodbye, Mr. Walsh.”
“Hello,” she said, turning her back on her visitor, hoping he would get the message.
“Holly? Are you having trouble there?” Mason’s voice held a concern.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she assured him.
“I heard you threaten to call the police.”
“An unwanted visitor, who is leaving,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Walsh, who made no move to exit.
“I’m not leaving until we talk,” he said, looking her squarely in the eye.
Holly growled low in her throat. “I better go deal with this,” she told Mason.
“I’m coming to help you.”
Her heart tripped. It had been years since she felt protected. Mason, who hardly knew her, made her feel as if he truly cared for her safety.
“No, it’s fine,” she assured him, hoping it was the truth. Walsh was getting aggressive but Roger was with her, lending some semblance of comfort to the situation.
“Right,” Mason said. “You’re not convincing. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Mason—”
He cut her off. “Don’t argue. I’m on my way.”
The line went dead.
Holly blew out a breath and then hung up the phone. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered that Mason cared enough to come help her or frustrated that he thought she couldn’t do for herself.
Turning to stand face-to-face with Walsh, she said, “I thought you were leaving.”
“The best labs, the best staff, the best of everything. Your country needs you, Ms. Heart.”
“She said no,” Roger said, stepping to her side and glowering at Walsh.
“If you don’t say yes to me, others will follow and then another and another. Our country is in grave danger.”
“I hardly think my country is going to self-destruct because I won’t help it make super soldiers. Use weapons, tanks or whatever else you so desire.” She waved a hand. “Heck, use super soldiers for all I care! Just don’t expect them to be my creations.”
“Do you want to risk the sa
me challenges that occurred in the first rounds of genetic therapy?”
“I certainly hope you will ensure that doesn’t happen because it’s preventable, even on the level you are talking.”
His expression was grim, his tone dangerously quiet. “We need you, Ms. Heart.”
Roger reached for the phone. “Leave now or I’m calling the police.”
Walsh laughed. “I’m more the law than any uniform you can call.“ A pause. “But, I’ll leave.” He fixed Holly in an intense look. “Just know this…time is running out.”
He turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
* * * * *
Mason walked into the lab offices with a tightly clenched jaw. What was it about Holly that made him so damn possessive? Protective was one thing he could reason away a little easier. After all, she was needed for a greater cause than most.
But the possessiveness… It was very raw and so powerful, it rocked him to the core.
When he spotted her, Holly was leaning on the edge of her desk, her lab coat covering her body but doing nothing to wash away his memories of what lie under that white coat.
When she looked up at him with those compelling green eyes, he imagined them heavy with desire, her hair draped over her bare shoulders, and he could almost feel her body beneath his.
Just like that, he was rock-hard.
Which meant he was in some deep shit. After a mere few hours in her acquaintance, he wanted her like he had never wanted for anything in his life.
But she was his assignment.
That made her a taboo he couldn’t touch, an absolute no for too many reasons to count. Even if she wasn’t his assignment, if they had met in another situation, he was no good for her and he knew it. He came with complications she didn’t deserve.
She smiled at him as he walked toward her and it was like having a ray of sunshine heat his heart. The woman simply touched him in ways he thought impossible. Fate had altered his life in dark ways she could never understand. Yet, Holly made him want to escape into another reality.
Could it be that he was more male, more human, than he gave himself credit for? Nothing dark could feel this good.
At least he hoped.
“I told you not to come,” Holly said but her eyes said she was glad he did.
He responded to the message in her gaze, not to her words. “I wanted to,” he said in a low voice. “I take it your visitor is gone?” he asked looking around and seeing no one. Yet, he sensed another presence but nothing malevolent in nature. Roger.
She nodded. “Yes. I hate that you came all the way over here for nothing.”
He stopped directly in front of her, willing himself not to touch her. “It wasn’t for nothing. I wanted to see you again.” Holding her gaze, slipping further under the spell of her captivating presence, he felt the slow simmer of heat she evoked in him grow hotter.
How was he going to convince her to help him, to even trust him, if he couldn’t control his desire to explore the attraction so obviously between them?
He almost laughed. Not a humor laugh. What the hell was this feeling he had burning him inside. Demanding he take her. That he find a way to bury himself deep inside her body? He’d never wanted with such potency. Never felt this kind of power urgency.
To take. To seize. To control.
And though he had no doubt she wanted him as he wanted her, he didn’t want to make her feel he had manipulated her. When she found out his agenda in seeking her out, she would think he had used sex to get her to do his bidding.
But it wasn’t that way.
He burned for her. Didn’t want to. He simply did.
It was as real as anything he had ever known in this lifetime.
A slow smile turned up the corners of her lush mouth. “I’m glad,” she said softly and a bit shyly.
“Can I take you to dinner?” He needed a good time to ask her help. That meant, despite the risk of more intimate moments, he needed some quality time with her.
She shook her head. “You already bought me one meal today.”
He smiled, trying not to think about what happened after lunch. About touching her. About wanting her. “I hardly think the Chinese buffet put a dent in my wallet.”
“Still,” she insisted.
He reached for her hand instinctively. Before his mind could reason with his desire to touch her. Even his words seemed a creation of his desire, not his good sense. “I want to spend time with you tonight.”
She studied him a moment as his thumb drew soft strokes across her palm. He couldn’t seem to resist touching her. Then she said, “My neighbor brought me over a pot of spaghetti. If you want, I could heat it up. She’s a great cook.”
Alone in her house. Bad idea for so many reasons. He didn’t let himself think about it. Instead, he asked, “Why would your neighbor bring you food?”
“I live in my parents’ old home. She was my mom’s best friend. She worries because I work late.” She paused. “Too much, according to her,” she added, grinning. Then, she reached out and touched his chest with her fingertips. “Will you join me?”
The touch of her fingers, so light, yet so heavy in sensation, rocked his reasoning skills to zero-level. “Sounds good,” he said, knowing he was wrong to do so.
Holly was a woman to treasure, to make long-term commitments with and to marry. He could fuck her. Nothing more. No way could he offer her what she deserved. Those things were gone for him. Had there ever been a woman who could have made him want them, he knew in his core, Holly Heart would have been the one.
He dropped her hand and took a step backwards. “Can you leave now?”
She frowned at his sudden withdrawal as if she sensed it was more than a physical distance he had just drawn. “Yes. I only live a few blocks away so normally I walk home.”
His eyes widened. “Haven’t you heard about the abductions going on?”
She shrugged. “I have but—”
“No buts,” he insisted. “Walking home is crazy.”
“It’s not a big deal,” she said succinctly.
He fixed her in a hard stare. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”
She tilted her head to the side and her eyes darkened with a building anger.
He laughed.
She frowned. “What are you laughing at?”
“You,” he said, giving in to the crazy feelings she evoked. He stepped forward and slid his hands under her hair as he maneuvered her backside against the desk. “You don’t like having anyone tell you how or what you can or can’t do.”
“And you do?” she challenged, looking up at him, her hands resting on the sides of his waist, not at all fazed by his size or how he pressed against soft curves.
Or how hard his dick was as it brushed her stomach.
She was fearless and smart and too damn amazing to resist. His dick was right. His mind, wrong. At least at that moment. “Very few people get away with telling me what to do, that’s true,” he admitted, somewhat absently as he lowered his head, hungry to taste her.
Just once more, he told himself.
Just once.
He would make it be enough. Perhaps then he could be more focused. Her lashes fluttered shut as she willingly tilted her mouth up to receive the kiss. God, she was beautiful. He brushed his lips across hers in a soft caress.
“Mmm,” she purred and he eagerly repeated the action. Her sweet little response only heightened his need. Called to his body and even, it felt, in that moment, his soul. He didn’t understand the feeling. It just was.
His hands moved to her lower back, molding her against him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Instantly, she slid her arms around him, pressing her body even closer to his, her lush breasts molding his chest. She let out a soft, seductive little sigh.
It affected him like gasoline on a fire. Instantly, he was burning hot.
His tongue delved deeper…
A noise. Mason froze. Holly didn’t. Her tongue reaching f
or his. Someone cleared their throat. No doubt, Roger.
With great irritation, Mason pulled back from Holly but he couldn’t bring himself to release her completely. He began to loosen his grip to a more casual stance but Holly still clung, staring up at him with something in her eyes resembling shock. As if, he decided, she couldn’t believe her own reaction to their intimacy.
“Holly,” he whispered. “We have company.”
She shook her head as if shaking off a thick haze and he watched reality slowly seep back into her eyes. She looked at Roger.
“Something wrong?” she asked him, sliding away from Mason, suddenly appearing a bit self-conscious. She leaned one hand on the desktop, making an obvious effort to seem at ease.
Mason refused to move away from her for reasons he himself didn’t completely understand. He stepped behind her, his body close to hers, his hand on one of her shoulders, towering above her head to look at Roger.
“Usually people do things like that in private,” Roger said snidely.
Stiffening, she glared. “Like that?”
“We were just leaving.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
“What is your problem, Roger? You never act so—”
“Because you never act like you are,” he retorted before she finished her sentence.
She stared at him, baffled. Mason gave her another gentle squeeze. “Let’s get going.”
Holly shook her head in frustration and looked up at Mason. “Yeah, okay.” She reached to retrieve her purse from her desk drawer. “Will you lock up, Roger?” she asked, giving him a cautious look.
“Yeah, sure,” he said unpleasantly but turned and walked toward the lab before she could say anything else.
Holly looked at Mason. “I really don’t understand him.”
“Men do strange things when they feel territorial,” Mason told her, thinking about himself, not Roger.
Where Holly was concerned, he indeed felt territorial, possessive, lustful and completely torn by too many things to count.
Inwardly, he sighed. One thing was for certain; He wasn’t about to let the wrong people get their hands on her. As far as he was concerned, she was under his direct protection.
And even Roger could take that to the bank.
Underground Guardians: Protector Page 4