Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2)

by Melynda Price

  “How are you going to explain why I’m there?”

  “I’m going to tell her you’re here to corner me for my fights. Which is true—I need someone I can trust in my corner.”

  “Whatever you say, man. She won’t hear it from me. Give me your address. I’m on my way.”

  Ryann sat at Aiden’s desk and flipped to the last page of papers he’d haphazardly tossed into his office. Her eyes stung, tears blurring her vision as she raced to finish the contract before they fell. She lost. A giant drop splattered on Aiden’s hastily scrawled name, smearing the black ink.

  “Shit . . .” She pulled off her cheaters and dropped them onto the desk. Closing her eyes, she pressed the heels of her palms against them, hoping that would somehow dam the moisture determined to fall. When another landed on his paper, she grabbed a tissue from the desk and dried her eyes before blotting at the contract.

  “What are you doing?”

  A startled “Oh . . .” escaped her lips. Ryann’s head snapped up to find Aiden leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest. How long had he been standing there watching her? By the accelerated tempo of his breathing, she’d guess not very long. She hadn’t noticed when the muffled cadence of the heavy bag had stopped. He’d been in there for hours, giving her more than enough time to begin researching the fighter Aiden was up against and read through his contract.

  Ryann quickly tossed the wadded tissue into the trash beside her knees, hoping he hadn’t caught her crying. “I was just reading your contract. Did you know that according to this schedule, you fight every two weeks? And this man you fight tomorrow, Joe Paskel, he’s really bad news. He just got out of prison last year for aggravated assault and robbery—”

  “I’m not surprised. How do you know all this?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because that’s what I do for a living. I find people. I investigate them. I study and gather information. I don’t want you fighting this guy.”

  “I don’t have a choice, and arguing about it won’t do me any favors. Just because the guy’s an asshole doesn’t mean he’s a good fighter, Ryann.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But his sixteen-and-two fight record might.”

  Aiden shouldered off the doorway and strolled into the office, moving with that undeniable grace that defied his size. “I can take care of myself in the cage. I’m not worried about it. What I am worried about is you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If that means I have to fight, then I’ll fight.” Aiden shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Moralli needs to believe he’s won.”

  “Why? What are you going to do?”

  Planting his palms on his desk, he lowered himself until they were eye level. The knot in her gut dissolved into a battering of butterflies. God help her, this man was gorgeous. His amber-flecked eyes bore into her with the intensity of the sun, scorching her to her very core.

  “What I should have done a long time ago. Listen, I have a friend coming to stay with me for a while. He’s going to corner me when I fight. I don’t trust any of Moralli’s men to do it.”

  “Okay . . . Is there anything I can do to help you? I feel terrible you’re in this mess because of me.”

  A measure of tension eased from his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. I should have known that bastard wasn’t going to let me go. If you really want to help, you could put together a dossier on every guy I’m scheduled to fight. I want to know everything you can find out about them. If you can get me videos of their fights, that’s even better. I always study my opponents before I get into the cage with them, and by the looks of things, I’m going to be short on time.”

  “Of course I’ll do it. Anything you need, just ask . . .”

  Aiden cocked his brow in question at her open-ended offer. It wasn’t how she’d meant it, but his panty-dropping smile told her exactly how he’d taken it. The hum of nervous energy skittered through her veins. She wanted him so badly but was afraid to let him get too close. At this point, she was clinging to self-preservation. As much as his doubt and mistrust in her might have been deserved, it still hurt—badly—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to open that door again. Did she love him?—absolutely. Was she still holding a part of herself back?—most definitely, and some niggling of doubt told her he was doing the same.

  Aiden’s spicy scent mixed with the seductive lure of clean male sweat. She nervously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the low growl rumbling in his throat called to every feminine instinct inside her. She had zero doubt that if this desk wasn’t between them, he’d be on top of her right now.

  The chemistry between them sparked, making her all too aware of her heart hammering inside her chest. Her skin felt too tight for her body. Feeling fidgety, she reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s umm . . . getting late. If you want to get cleaned up, I can go see about throwing something together for supper.”

  “There’s nothing here. I haven’t had a chance to shop yet. We can order in or I can take you out,” he offered.

  She’d had a long day and the thought of getting ready to go out wasn’t nearly as appealing as the idea of staying in with him. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay here. I’ll order something while you’re showering. What are you hungry for?”

  The intensity in his eyes surged brighter, igniting her own slow burn deep in her core. With the fluid grace of a predator, Aiden came around the desk. Towering over her, he leaned so close the heat of his breath brushed against the shell of her ear as he whispered, “Sweetheart, what I want to eat is not on any menu you’re going to find around here.”

  Oh, merciful heaven . . . Ryann’s breath caught in her throat as that slow burn erupted into a full-blown raging inferno. The memory of Aiden’s all-consuming kiss returned, swift and unbidden, and with it came a wave of lust so intense, a soft, helpless whimper escaped her throat. Just the thought of his mouth against her intimate flesh, his tongue teasing her clit, slipping inside her . . .

  She couldn’t resist him. She was too weak, the power he held over her too strong. With just his words and erotic promises, he could bring her to the brink of release. Her breaths quickened as her eyes fluttered closed, waiting in anticipation for him to close the scant distance—waiting for his lips to graze her neck. What was he waiting for? She was helpless to deny him, lust casting out all fears, all rational thought. She knew how good it would be. How good they were in bed together. Question was, did Aiden want more than a fuck buddy? He obviously cared about her, but his outburst in the car was hardly a declaration of undying love and commitment. In fact, she’d gotten the feeling he’d shocked himself as much as he had her with that little admission. Was his love strong enough to go the distance? She guessed only time would tell . . .

  Aiden could sense Ryann’s hesitation, and it was with great effort he pulled away and let the offer hang in the air between them. They were on new ground here, uncharted territory since their postlove declaration. Aiden had to admit, the many times he’d tried to picture himself actually saying those words to someone, none of them had been in the heat of a fight. For crissake, did it even count when you yelled it at someone? It was the first time in his life he’d ever said the L word to a woman. Half-assed as that confession might have been, he’d have been lying if he said it didn’t spook him a little.

  He felt vulnerable in a way he’d never been before, exposed and raw, and he didn’t like it. But none of that changed how rock hard he was for her, how much he wanted her, or how much he cared for her. Fuck, he was all over the board when it came to this woman. Right now, what he craved was what he knew—sex. He wanted to get his feet back on solid ground again, or rather get himself between Ryann’s.

  As he pulled back, her lids fluttered open, the vibrant green reflecting back at him a mixture of desire and uncertainty. He knew she’d been expecting him to
kiss her, but in truth if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. He’d had a long, hard workout and he was drenched in sweat. It was probably best for the both of them if they tabled this for later. Whatever was holding Ryann back, whatever was bothering her, they were going to have to talk about it sooner than later. But considering the emotion-packed day they’d both had, now was probably not the best time.

  “Whatever you decide to order is fine. There’s cash in my wallet on my dresser. Help yourself.”

  CHAPTER

  30

  Mr. Kruze, we have a man down here from Artichoke Basille’s. He said you ordered a pizza. Should I let him up?”

  Ryann leapt from the chair where she’d been sitting at the dining room table, working on the dossier Aiden requested, when a woman’s voice intruded into her thoughts. The voice sounded like it was coming from an intercom. She turned a circle, looking for a speaker mounted on the wall somewhere, and made a note to herself to have Aiden explain the penthouse security to her a little better.

  “Aiden,” she called. “Someone’s talking to you.”

  He didn’t respond. Crap, he was probably still in the shower.

  “Mr. Kruze?”

  Ryann followed the sound into the foyer and found a speaker with a silver intercom button beside the door.

  She leaned forward, getting ready to speak, finger outstretched to press the button when: “Mr. Kruze? Is everything all right?”

  Ryann jumped back and let out a startled yelp, then laughed at how ridiculous she must look. Pressing the button, she spoke into the wall. “I ordered the pizza, please send him up.”

  A few minutes later, Ryann handed the delivery guy a fifty-dollar bill and took the box from him. She closed the door with her foot and heard the automatic snick of the lock behind her as she carried the pizza to the table. It smelled heavenly. As she went into the kitchen to grab plates and napkins, she checked the fridge for something to drink. Wow, Aiden hadn’t been joking—there really wasn’t anything in here. She closed the door and spotted three bottles in his wine rack.

  Score! She searched the cupboards until she found the glasses. After peeling the red foil off the bottle, she began opening and closing drawers, looking for a wine opener. Ryann found one in the last drawer and bumped it shut with her hip. She wrapped her arm around the bottle to hold it steady and screwed the metal curlicue into the cork. Once it was buried, she folded the wings down and forced the cork up. It got stuck halfway. Grabbing the opener, she pulled up, trying to free the cork from the bottle, but it wouldn’t budge. Shit . . . she needed better leverage.

  Ryann set the wine bottle on the ground and steadied it with her feet. She bent down, gripping the neck with one hand and the corkscrew with the other. She was about to give it a hard yank when she felt something bump into her from behind. Every inch of hard male body folded over her back, Aiden’s tattooed arms reaching around her, plucking the wine bottle up from her feet.

  “What are you doing?” he chuckled. His deep husky voice was like sex to her ears, all throaty and rumbling. His clean, spicy scent drugged her senses, making her feel like she’d already had a few glasses of the wine she was trying to open.

  “What does it look like?” She turned her head to the side, finding his face very close to hers, amusement sparkling in those entrancing eyes. “I’m trying to open this bottle.”

  He straightened, taking the wine bottle with him and regrettably breaking contact with her backside. She bit her bottom lip to stifle the groan of disappointment.

  “I see that. Looks like you’re doing a stellar job of it.”

  “Hey.” She turned to face him, propping her hip against the counter and giving him a saucy grin. “I was managing just”—pop—“fine.”

  Aiden sprang the cork loose with zero effort. He raised that sexy pierced brow of his and handed the bottle back to her. “You sure you shouldn’t be drinking water?” he teased.

  “Ha-ha. You’re really funny.” She turned and poured two glasses. Setting the bottle on the granite countertop, she lifted the glasses and handed him one. “Come on, your pizza’s getting cold.” She grabbed the plates and napkins and headed to the dining room, Aiden following her out with the bottle of wine. Ryann moved her laptop and pile of papers over to another spot and made room for him to sit across from her.

  “The pizza smells great, what kind did you get?”

  “Garbage. Hope you like it.” She slid the pizza between them and lifted the lid on the box.

  “Are you kidding me? Garbage pizza is my favorite, and Artichoke Basille’s is the best. I haven’t had a good pizza since . . .”

  Ryann glanced up at him when he didn’t finish his thought. Something hardened in his expression. “Since when?” she prompted, keeping her query light-hearted when she sensed the subtle shift in his mood. She grabbed a slice and dragged it over to her plate. Strings of connecting cheese followed, and she twirled her finger in the mozzarella, breaking it free.

  “Since I left New York.” He grabbed his own slice from the box, but instead of digging into the masterpiece, he reached for the wine and downed a good portion of the glass.

  “I’m sorry you had to come back.”

  Guilt assailed her. Maybe Aiden could see the depth of her remorse, because he said, “It’s not your fault. I never should have left.”

  What? She almost choked on her bite of pizza. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Oh, I do. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this, it’s that you can’t run away from your problems. Eventually, they’ll find you and when they do, they’re going to be a hell of a lot worse than before. I’m done running, Ryann, and by the time I’m finished with Moralli, he’s going to wish to God he’d let me go when he had the chance.”

  “Aiden, what are you going to do?” Her pulse spiked with the familiar rush of panic. If the last twenty-four hours taught her anything, it was that Vincent Moralli was a merciless, cold-blooded killer. Nothing drove that point home more than having the muzzle of a gun shoved against your temple.

  Aiden took a bite of his pizza and thoughtfully chewed. The man radiated cold, hard determination. Looking at him now, he appeared every bit the hardened fighter and the ruthless lawyer she suspected he could be. Perhaps it was his Kruze bloodline that gave him the air of power and untouchability it would take to face Vincent Moralli. God knew no one else would do it, and apparently her father had died trying.

  Aiden’s gaze locked on her—unwavering and decided. “I’m going to collapse his empire. I’m going to do the one thing the feds have tried and failed to do for the last ten years. I’m going to build an airtight case against Vincent Moralli and I’m going to deliver it to the DA with a red fucking bow wrapped around it.”

  Ho-ly shit . . . “You think it will work? That you can do it?”

  He drained his glass and refilled it before answering. The depth of raw anger, of unmerciful determination she saw staring back at her, chilled Ryann to the bone. This was a side of Aiden Kruze she’d never seen before, a side that quite frankly was scary as shit.

  “Oh, I know I can.”

  “Why haven’t you done it before now?”

  He was thoughtful for a moment. Perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth because his response shocked the hell out of her. “Because when Moralli falls, I will have single-handedly ruined my father.”

  Ryann pushed her plate aside, her appetite long gone. Reaching across the table, she clutched Aiden’s hand. “You can’t be serious. Aiden, how is that possible? He’s your father, a freaking US senator!”

  “The how of it doesn’t matter. My parents have made their bed, Ryann. After today, I’m done worrying about them and I’m done covering up for their involvement with Moralli. None of us are going to come out of this unscathed and I’ll likely be disbarred. But whatever the consequences, they’re worth it
to see that man behind bars, to get you out of his clutches. Fuck . . .” Aiden dragged his hand through his hair. “When that bastard had you dragged into that office today and I saw the terror in your eyes . . . I swear to God I could have killed him right then and there.”

  The tempest of emotion reflecting back at Ryann broke her heart. She could see the anger raging, the helplessness crashing in a sea of desperation, the love anchoring him to her like a lifeline stretched to its limit on a fraying rope. He needed her. He needed her more than he’d ever admit—needed her to support him, to stand by him, to love him through this, no matter the outcome. He was doing this for them. He was fighting for her . . .

  Rising from her chair, she came around the table and climbed across his lap. Taking his face in her hands, she admired his strong stubborn square jaw, his noble aristocratic nose that hinted at generations of fine breeding. And his eyes . . . she could drown in the dark rich amber color, so unlike anything she’d ever seen. But when her gaze landed on his mouth, lips that held a masculine fullness she craved to taste, ached to feel in all the places that tingled with awareness of him, she was done for.

  “I never thanked you for saving my life today.” And there was no doubt in her mind that he had. When that gun cocked and the cold press of metal had bitten into her temple . . . The thought sent a shudder rippling through her body. Aiden must have felt it because his hands came to rest low on her back, just above the fleshy curve of her bottom. “Vincent would have killed me if you hadn’t signed that contract. You’re not fighting for him, Aiden, you’re fighting for me.” She leaned forward until her mouth nearly touched his and whispered, “Remember that when you step into the cage tomorrow night.”

  Of all the things Ryann could have said to him, this was the one that could have brought him to his knees. Holy hell . . . he loved this woman. The tether of his control snapped, and all the emotion he’d bottled up inside him came rushing out. He closed the scant distance separating them, kissing her with a possessive savageness that shocked even him, yet he was helpless to temper the raw, primitive domination in which his mouth claimed hers. She was his. And by the end of the night, he vowed she’d have no doubt who she belonged to.