by Tara Wyatt
As carefully as possible, he lifted the box, testing its weight. It was light, almost insubstantial, but he could feel something shift inside as he picked it up. Given how light it was, it was unlikely to be an explosive, but he walked the box to the end of the driveway just to be sure. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a Swiss Army knife and slit the tape down the center. With the tip of the knife, he eased back the flaps and peered inside.
Red. For a second that was all he could see. The box was filled with dismembered baby doll parts, all covered in red dye. His grip on the box tightened, the cardboard creaking under the pressure. “Son of a bitch,” he bit out, trying to get a handle on the rage coursing through him. If he ever got his hands on whoever was doing this to Sierra…fuck. He’d probably end up in jail.
A note was taped to the inside of the box.
Seeing as you’re all about choices, here’s one for you, Miss Blake: Back off now, and you won’t get hurt. Refuse, and you just might end up like the millions you’ve helped send to the slaughter.
The note was unsigned, but the message it contained made him think it had to be from Sacrosanct. Maybe he’d been barking up the wrong tree with Jack after all.
“Sean?” Sierra’s voice from a few feet behind him almost made him jump. He spun to face her, trying to block her view of the box, wanting to shield her from the fear he knew the note and the box’s contents would bring.
“You don’t need to see this. It’s from Sacrosanct. More of the same shit. We’ll call the cops.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and stepped around him, coming face-to-face with the disturbing contents of the box. He should’ve known better than to try to hide something from her. She froze as she read the note, her cheeks going pale.
Fuck. This was why he hadn’t wanted her to see it.
“Oh, God,” she breathed, fingers pressed to her mouth. “They’re threatening to kill me.” The words came out quiet and shaky, her eyes glued to the broken doll pieces, and his chest ached for her, over the shit Sacrosanct was putting her through. Her breaths came fast and shallow and then she was in his arms, her face pressed tight against his chest. He wasn’t sure who’d moved first, if he’d reached for her or she’d turned to him. It didn’t matter. Instinct took over, and he turned his back on the box, sheltering her from it. He stroked a hand up and down her back, the other arm wrapped firmly around her. She shook in his arms, trembles racking her small body. She smelled warm and sweet, like vanilla and honey, and he pulled her tighter against him, wishing he could shoulder this for her. Wishing there were something he could do or say to make everything better. To take away the fear and the anger and the helplessness. And wanting, more than anything, to catch the assholes putting her through this.
The situation had shifted. They weren’t dealing with a protest group intent on bullying her into silence. No, this was an actual threat, and he needed to do whatever it took to protect her from these assholes.
It didn’t matter that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. It didn’t matter that, although he’d known her for only a few days, he had feelings for her. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember ever connecting with someone so quickly and so easily. It didn’t matter that she was the smartest, funniest, sexiest woman he’d ever met.
Keeping her safe and catching the bastards who were threatening his woman. That was the only thing that mattered. The only thing.
Somehow, once the trembling had subsided, he managed to release her, dropping his arms to his sides, but putting himself between her and the box, keeping it out of her view. She slid her hands up his chest, her breathing much calmer now.
“What do we do now?” she asked, tilting her head up.
“We call the cops and I keep you safe.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, pressing her face into his chest. “I’m so glad you’re OK, Sean. I was freaking out watching you.”
He felt his lips curl up in a smile, basking just a little in how sweet she was. “I told you I’d be OK.”
She nodded. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I really want to kiss you,” she whispered, and his world tilted a little. Heat flared low in his gut, and he had to stifle a low groan as his dick stiffened.
“You’re a client, Sierra. It’s not a good idea,” he said, fighting for control, watching her mouth as he slipped his arms back around her. Shit. He hadn’t meant to do that. But now that they were there, around her tiny waist, holding her against him, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to let her go twice.
His heart slammed into his ribs like a sledgehammer as he struggled against how badly he wanted to give in and kiss her. He needed to stay professional, not just because she was a client, but because he needed—especially now, in the face of the escalating threats—to keep a clear head.
His cock pressed firmly against his zipper, making a pretty damn compelling argument for ignoring his brain.
She looked up at him, her green eyes bright. “I was scared you were going to get hurt. I was more scared of that than anything in the box.”
Before he could talk himself out of it, he dipped his head until he could feel her breath fanning against his lips. He gripped her tighter, trying to hide the tremble coursing through him as he fought against what he wanted. Needed.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, and nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked, and her lips brushed against his bottom lip in a whisper of a kiss. Oh, hell, that felt good, just that tiniest touch of her lips to his, and it only made him hungrier for more.
“Yes,” he growled.
And then he pulled back and put a few feet of distance between them. God, he was either a saint or the world’s biggest goddamn idiot. He knew which one his dick was voting for.
Chapter 11
He sat back behind his desk, sinking into the black leather chair, his phone pressed to his ear.
“You sent her the picture?” he asked, scuffing one polished black shoe against the red carpet.
The voice on the other end responded immediately. “We did.”
“Good. And the package was delivered?”
“Just a couple of hours ago, with the note, just like you asked.”
“Perfect. That should make her rethink everything.”
“You think it’s enough to scare her off?”
“It should be. And without their star spokesperson, it’ll be a lot more difficult for Choices to get the support they’ll need to get that grant.”
“And then the fifty million will be ours for the taking.”
“Exactly. Keep your ears open, and let me know if you hear anything about her quitting or backing off. You got her new cell number?”
“Yep.”
“Give her a few hours, and then send her a friendly little reminder that she can’t hide from us. And find out what you can about that bodyguard she’s got following her around. Sean Owens.” The bodyguard was a potential wrench in the plan. A plan that needed to succeed if he was to have any hope of paying Fairfax back and keeping his kneecaps intact.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “You don’t know who he is, do you?”
Irritation flared up, and he gripped the phone tighter, drumming the fingers of his opposite hand on the desk. “Why the hell would I know who he is?”
“You ever heard of Virtus Security?”
“Sure.”
“That’s him.”
It was his turn to pause, and for the first time since they’d started trying to scare her off, the tiniest flicker of doubt rose up, like smoke from an extinguished candle. Insubstantial and almost invisible, but there all the same. “Shit. Really? How’s she affording that?”
“No idea. Maybe she’s fucking him.”
He scoffed. “Unlikely.” But he knew it wasn’t impossible. Women were sluts, and he didn’t doubt she’d whore herself out in exchange for security. “Wait, and then send the text
. Call me when you’ve got more information.”
“You got it.”
The line went dead, and he tossed his phone on the desk, wondering how much she’d put up with before she threw in the towel. She couldn’t last much longer. Women were weak, in both mind and body. She’d crumble soon under the onslaught of threats, and whether she was fucking him or not, there’d be nothing Owens could do about it.
* * *
“This is really nice of you. You didn’t have to do this.” Sean surveyed the spread of chicken wings, pizza, nachos, and beer spread out over the island in Sierra’s kitchen, the food piping hot and the beer ice-cold. Off in one corner sat a few leftover cupcakes from Chloe’s birthday a few days ago.
His stomach rumbled, and he smoothed a hand over his T-shirt, watching Sierra as she stashed the delivery bags and retrieved a stack of plates from a cabinet. She reached up, and her loose-fitting tank top rode up, leaving a swath of smooth, creamy skin exposed between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her jean shorts. He knew exactly how well she fit in his arms, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine what that skin would feel like. How soft and warm it would be as he traced his fingers down the seam of her spine.
He glanced at the cupcakes again. Stupid fucking cupcakes.
“You guys have been awesome. I just wanted to say thank you.” She’d invited the entire team over for a night of watching UFC fights and gorging on food and beer. Jamie was on duty tonight, though, so no beer for him. And Carter was on duty all day tomorrow. Sean had meetings he couldn’t get out of, so he’d be spending the day at the Virtus offices. He trusted his team, and knew Carter could handle it, but he still hated to be away from the situation, especially given the new threat the package had brought that morning.
And he hated to be away from Sierra.
A round of cheers and groans erupted from the living room.
“Boss, get in here! You gotta see this knockout!” called Jamie.
Before he could duck back into the living room, Sierra was there, in front of him, her hand on his forearm.
“And I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Her voice was quiet, pink spots rising on the apples of her cheeks. She cleared her throat before continuing. “For what happened this morning. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He didn’t need her to clarify. He knew exactly what she was referring to. The memory of that tiny brush of her lips against his ghosted over him, and he could almost feel that touch again. That was the best part of the memory.
The worst? That was when he’d pulled away and seen something close off in her eyes, in her face, in her body language. One second she’d been open, vulnerable, and then he’d pushed her away. He’d had to, but it didn’t matter. That look in her eyes, guarded and distant, had made him feel like an asshole.
And it was the second time he’d done it to her.
He felt like a caveman, brutal and clumsy. He’d had something beautiful in his hands, and he’d had the ability only to crush it. He could keep her safe, without a doubt. He could be her protector. He shouldn’t want more from her, not when his focus should be on protecting her, but caveman that he was, he wanted it all. “No harm done.”
“Good. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. OK?”
That was the last thing he wanted to do. It was also pretty much the only option, moving forward. “Sure. No problem.”
She smiled, her nose scrunching up slightly, and she passed him a bottle of beer before hefting a tray laden with food and making her way into the living room. He watched her, and her laugh at something Jamie said hit him like a punch in the gut. He wrenched the cap off the beer, tossed it into the garbage below the sink, and drained half the bottle.
He followed her into the living room and dropped down onto the sofa between Carter and Zack. Ian and Jamie sat on the other sofa, Ian giving off his usual “nobody fucking talk to me” vibes. And as usual, the guys all gave him space and privacy without isolating him, respecting his grief. None of them knew the full story of what had happened to Ian, and no one was either brave enough or dumb enough to try to pry it out of him. Sean knew he was a former SAS paratrooper and medic, and that he’d had a fiancée back in Scotland at some point. He didn’t know why he’d left the SAS or Scotland, or what had happened to the fiancée. Whatever the reason, he was willing to bet it was pretty damn bad.
Sierra passed out plates, and they all helped themselves to the food, mumbling their appreciation through full mouths. She curled up in an armchair, nursing a beer of her own, watching the fights.
She looked tired. A little paler than usual, dark circles visible under her eyes. She fiddled with the label on her beer bottle, peeling it away in little strips and letting the paper fall into her lap.
God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to distract her from all the garbage of the past couple of days. To scoop her up, take her to his bed, and keep her there until she couldn’t remember what she was worried about. Until she was completely relaxed and sleeping, naked in his arms.
His dick twitched in his jeans, and he grabbed a plate of food. He settled back and propped one ankle up on the opposite knee, forcing himself to focus on the fights and not Sierra, grateful for the distraction of two guys beating the shit out of each other.
“Whoa!” Sierra’s mouth dropped open as one fighter landed a spinning kick to his opponent’s head.
“Pretty impressive, huh?” said Zack, popping a cheese-covered nacho in his mouth.
“Yeah. I didn’t realize how athletic it is.”
“Zack and Jamie both do this, you know,” said Carter, tipping his beer toward the TV.
“Really? You’re both mixed martial arts fighters?” She glanced back and forth between the fight on TV, and Zack and Jamie.
Jamie nodded. “I do it as more of a hobby, but Zack’s really good. How long you been fighting pro now?”
“A few months.” He smiled cockily as he leaned forward, one eyebrow arched. “I’m undefeated.”
“Wow. It looks…insane. But in a good way.”
“You should come watch sometime,” offered Jamie, smiling a little too warmly at Sierra for Sean’s liking. Something hot and possessive unfurled low in his gut, and he took a sip of his beer, trying to extinguish it.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Winning’s fun, but it’s even better when you’ve got a beautiful woman cheering you on.”
She laughed. “Laying it on pretty thick, there, Anderson.”
Sean stifled a growl with a bite of pizza.
Jamie winked at her. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She laughed again and rose from her chair, heading back into the kitchen. “Anyone want another beer?” she called over her shoulder. A few guys responded, and she disappeared around the corner.
“Hey,” said Sean, leaning forward, his arms braced on his legs, his beer in one hand. Jamie turned to face him, guilt sliding across his face. “Knock it off.”
“I was just kidding around.”
“No flirting with clients.” Christ, he was such a hypocrite. He was giving Jamie shit for some harmless flirting when he’d flirted with her, almost kissed her twice, and jerked himself off fantasizing about her. More than twice.
“You’re right. Sorry, boss.” The word boss rankled him. He was the boss, and it was up to him to lead his team and set the right example.
Carter glanced toward the kitchen. “You hear anything from Clay or Antonio?”
“Nothing new. Still following up on the information they’ve got. Clay thinks he might be onto something, but he wasn’t ready to share just yet.”
“You still thinking it might be the senator?” asked Ian.
Sean grimaced, thinking, before finally shaking his head. “Pretty unlikely. We ran into him this morning, and I tossed a few questions his way about the attacks. Didn’t seem fazed. Even offered to help if he can.”
“Was she OK, seeing her ex?” asked Jamie quietly.
“Think so. It was all prett
y civil.”
“There’s something about that guy I don’t like,” said Zack. “Every time I see him on TV, he seems so fake.”
“He does,” said Ian. “Something disingenuous about that bloke. No one’s that perfect.”
“That was Antonio’s take too,” said Sean, nodding in agreement.
Carter tipped his head toward the kitchen. “Does she think he could be involved?”
Sean took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “No.”
“Oh, man,” said Zack, his eyes glued to the TV. “Check out the ring girl. Damn.”
They all watched in appreciative silence as a petite, stacked blonde walked around the caged octagon, holding a placard above her head.
Sierra came back into the living room, a couple of bottles of beer in her hands. And there was that tug in his chest again. That damn need he couldn’t seem to shake. She avoided looking his way as she came in, handing a bottle each to Carter and Ian.
She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and froze. “What the hell?” She stood near the edge of the room, staring at her phone. Sean was on his feet immediately.
“What is it?”
She passed him her phone and paced away, her hands on her hips. One single text message, once again from an unknown, private number. Probably another damn burner.
We can always find you. You can change your number. You can hide behind security. But as long as you’re working for Choices, you’re not safe.
He followed Sierra into the kitchen and watched her slam things around as he forwarded the text message and its details to Antonio. Sean had spoken to him earlier that day, and he’d sent a patrol officer to come pick up the package. The police were now checking it for fingerprints and other evidence. So far Sacrosanct had been smart, covering its tracks thoroughly.
“How did they get my new number?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have it changed again.”
“What’s going on?” asked Carter from behind him, and he turned to find the entire team standing in the entryway to the kitchen.