Caged: An Alpha Protector Romance

by Alaska Jones

  “…did you? Babe?”

  I blink, focusing my eyes on the mirror. “Um, what?”

  “I said, you got all the phone numbers you’ll need, right?”

  “Mm-hm,” I mumble without thinking. He smiles with a corner of his mouth, as if he knows exactly what’s going through my head. “Can you finally tell me where we’re going?” I change the subject just so I can focus on the reality.

  “Well…” His fingers run through my hair as I turn to him, craning my head back so I can look him in the eyes. “Right now, we’re going to dye this pretty hair of yours brown. Chestnut, probably.”

  “Brown…” I try to picture it. “Maybe I want it black?”

  “No, you don’t.” He shakes his head, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

  “Fine, I don’t. How do you always seem to know exactly what I want?”

  His arms tighten around me, pulling me up as he bends down to touch the tip of his nose to mine. “I don’t,” he whispers, kissing my bottom lip. “I just know what I want.”

  I open my mouth, pressing my lips to his on an inhale, as desperate as the first time we kissed in the gray bedroom, with my hands tied behind my back and my heart in turmoil. My thoughts go back to the bleak apartment and all the strange things that brought us together. The ropes, the fights, the grid door that kept me hostage – it’s not the kind of romantic story you’d share with friends or relatives or toast to at a wedding. I smile as I think that these are the first memories of him that I will cherish for the rest of my life, messed up and strange and full of passion. Am I screwed up to feel romantic about it?

  “What are you smiling at?” he whispers against my lips, catching his breath.

  My smile widens. “Nothing. We should go.”

  “Hmm.” He presses his lips to mine one more time and draws back, pulling my hood up.

  “Is this really necessary?” I complain for the hundredth time.

  “Yes. It’s not us being here that’s dangerous – it’s us leaving together. I asked Charlie to give the guards a break. They’re all down at the pool.”

  I roll my eyes, watching him pick up my bag. “Watch out, Mr. Cage,” I mock him. “Someone might kidnap me while you’re not looking… Oh wait, someone already did that!”

  He purses his lips to hold back a smile and closes the door behind us as we leave.

  We find Charlie sitting on a bench down in the hall, sorting through some mail. “Here you are…” he says, spotting us as we walk down the staircase. “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah. Just sad to leave,” I admit with a shrug.

  He smiles, setting the mail aside and standing up. “Well, I do hope we meet again. But as long as you’re happy at the new place, I have no reason to be sad.”

  Surprisingly, it’s his words that make me feel better, reminding me of the new opportunities that always come with big change. I hug him as tight as his injured arm will allow and turn to Cage, finding him digging through Charlie’s mail.

  “Um, Cage?” Charlie’s wide eyes mirror my own.

  Cage doesn’t seem to hear me. He straightens up, holding a big white envelope, just as Lincoln joins us in the hall. He looks at Cage and hands him a letter opener – probably, the reason he was gone when we came down.

  “Thank you…” Cage murmurs, too focused on what he’s doing to notice our staring. He leafs through the papers quickly, then hands them over to Charlie. “Congratulations. You’re a few signatures away from becoming the sole owner of the three clubs that previously belonged to Anthony Hunt.”

  Charlie gapes at him for a second before taking the papers in bewilderment. I dart a surprised look at Cage, but his eyes are on Lincoln. He extends his right hand, and even though I can’t understand it, I know something passes between the two as Lincoln looks him in the eye before reaching out to shake his hand. Cage wishes good luck to Charlie, picks up my bag and walks out of the door.

  Charlie and I exchange puzzled looks. “Find someone to replace me at Velvet, will you?” I ask him before giving Lincoln a quick hug. He pats me gingerly on the back with a stiff smile.

  “Impossible.” Charlie winks at me.

  “Bye,” I say with a smile as I follow Cage outside.

  “Goodbye, Jenna.”

  Cage holds the passenger door open for me as I come out. He had to get rid of the Jeep after everything that happened, and the new Range Rover smells like wood and leather. It suits him somehow.

  “How did you make that happen?” I point my thumb over my shoulder, meaning the letter and what he did for Charlie.

  He shrugs and starts the car. “I offered Hunt a choice – he gives the clubs over to Charlie, or I tell the cops about the warehouse. Now that I know he’s accepted my offer, I officially have nothing else to do here.”

  I just shake my head, once again amazed at how he has handled everything.

  A couple hours later, I look at myself in the mirror, running my fingers through my chestnut-colored straight hair. For some reason, it feels like touching an alien.

  “Do you like it, Ms. Lewis?” the hairdresser asks me with a smile.

  “I love it. Thank you.” I smile back at her and get up to my feet.

  Hearing that Cage left the barbershop a half-hour ago and asked them to point me to a men’s suit shop, I hurry there, only to stop in my tracks when some suited stranger wraps a large hand around my waist as I pass him by.

  “What- ” I raise my eyes, feeling my jaw drop as I gape at the man in front of me.

  “Looking for someone?” Cage arches a brow in amusement.

  “Oh my…” I breathe out. “Did I hit a jackpot or what?”

  He chuckles, gently pushing me forward. “Let’s go.”

  “No, no. Let me look first.”

  “Come on, people are staring.” He points his eyes at the mall visitors, who really do stare at us as they walk by.

  “Well, they should be! Get used to it, you tall, sexy… Gosh, I don’t even know what to call you.”

  I look him over one more time, amazed at how much better he looks with a short haircut in reality than in my imagination. His strong jawline would put to shame half the Hollywood, and the way his suit looks on him – all the billionaire CEOs in the world. The collar of his shirt rises just above his scar, hiding the only thing that could give away his real identity.

  “Okay, I’m officially uncomfortable, let’s go.” He guides me to the nearest women’s clothing boutique, while I just smile idiotically and try not to trip over my feet.

  I let him pick a couple dresses for me, thinking that I’d probably just end up buying the same thing that I always do. A few minutes later, I stand in a spacious fitting room, struggling with the zipper on my dark-red pencil dress.

  “Need help?” he murmurs, joining me.

  “Yes, please,” I sigh. “Who decided that a full length back zipper is a good idea?”

  “I did.” He winks at me in the mirror, brushing his finger across my back as he zips me up.

  “Oh…” I shut up, shivering at the touch. A corner of his mouth quirks up absently as he gathers my hair into his palm, letting it fall down on my back. “What are you thinking?” I ask, sensing his thoughtfulness.

  He glances at me in the mirror as he bends to my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “I’m thinking I can’t wait to mess up all this beauty…” I suck in a breath when his teeth pull at my earlobe, setting fire to my nerves. “Can I?” he whispers, sliding his palm down my stomach.

  “Did I ever say no to you?” I utter, suddenly unsteady in my high heels. “You don’t mean here, do you?”

  “Oh, no. Getting arrested on our first day as Mr. and Ms. Lewis is not part of the plan. We’ll have to wait until we get to a hotel.”

  “There’s a big one around the corner,” I manage to say right before he plants a scorching kiss on my neck, sucking on my skin until I whimper in need.

  He chuckles and locks his gaze with mine in the mirror, running his tongue soothingl
y over the raw spot. “I’m afraid, it won’t do. Our new trail will begin in Tijuana. I don’t want any evidence that we have ever been to LA.” He pulls my hair forward, covering the evidence of his most recent crime.

  “Tijuana? That’s three hours away,” I complain.

  His broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “You can hurry the fudge up.” I poke him with a finger, giving him a pointed look as I walk out of the fitting room.

  Hours later, we lie in a tangle of sheets, too spent to move or speak or even breathe. I gather all my strength to draw a wheezing breath, burning up with the combined heat of our bodies. Trapped underneath Cage, I lift a shaking hand to his head and realize that I already miss the long curls that felt so perfect between my fingers.

  “Is this what you had in mind back in LA?” I whisper, unsure if he’s listening.

  He stirs, slipping his arm underneath me as he rests his head on my chest. “More or less.” I know he’s smiling, so I smile back, even though he can’t see.

  “Room service? I’m starved.” I look down at him when he doesn’t respond. “Cage?”

  He lifts his head with a sigh, pulling up to press his lips to mine. “You know you can’t call me that anymore.”

  “I can’t imagine calling you anything else,” I whisper, frowning in protest, only to gasp in shock as a realization hits me. “Oh my God! I literally slept with someone without even asking their first name!”

  He laughs, his body shaking on top of mine, before replying, “Technically, you did ask. Long time ago. I just didn’t tell you.”

  “What is your first name, anyway? The real one?”

  He looks me in the eyes, laughing as if at a secret. “It’s Malcolm.”

  For a moment, there’s only dumb silence.

  “No. Way.” I press a hand to my face, feeling my cheeks burn. “I laughed at your real name! It’s your fault!”

  “How is it my fault?”

  “You misled me! You made me believe it was some random name, and I mocked it. And how come you get to keep your first name, and I don’t?”

  “Because literally no one knows me by this name. My old friends think I’m dead. Everyone I’ve worked with in the past three years knows me as Cage, and they think it’s fake. With a new last name, no one will ever recognize me as the old Malcolm.”

  “God!” I drawl, rubbing at my face. “That’s so unfair and awkward! Stop laughing!”

  My whining only makes him laugh harder, and he rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him. “Fine, I’ll admit, I misled you on purpose so I could laugh at you. You feel better now?”

  “Thanks,” I say with a wry face, folding my arms on his chest as I stare down at him. “It’s still unfair.”

  “Why? You picked a great name. Jennifer. I can call you Jenn, Jenna, and if anyone hears it, they won’t be surprised.”

  “Hmm…” I lean down to kiss his unfamiliarly smooth chin. “That was the idea. See, you’re not the only one with beauty and brains here.” He snorts and casts his eyes skyward, tightening his grip on me. “I could call you Cage at home, too.”

  “No,” he cuts me off, all humor gone. “It’s too risky, Jenna.”

  I sigh. “Well, I’m not gonna call you Malcolm.”

  He grins. “What are you going to call me then?”

  It only takes one kiss to find the answer. “My love. No one will be suspicious of that.” His fingers slip into my hair, pulling me down for a deep kiss. I suck his tongue into my mouth, only to pull away in a minute. “Am I crazy to fall in love with someone in two weeks?” I whisper.

  He strokes my cheek with his thumb and says,

  “Am I?”

  ~~~

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  About the author

  Alaska Jones is obsessed with damaged, protective alpha males and strong-willed heroines. She writes steamy, suspenseful romance novels with a touch of action.

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