Ryan sighed.
He had to give the guy credit, though; Trace was doing a damn good job concealing his true feelings for Marissa considering her father, her brothers, and some of her cousins were sitting close enough to punch him if need be. Then again, it wasn’t the first time Ryan had noticed Trace’s interest in Marissa. And vice versa.
Was it the ideal situation? No, not exactly. Was Ryan worried? The answer was a resounding hell no. Not in regard to whether or not she’d be safe with Trace.
If Marissa was safe with anyone, she was safe with Trace.
The guy’s actions spoke much louder than words, and Trace had proven just how deeply he cared for Marissa when he’d taken off on his own to protect her. Trace’s insistence that Marissa never know the sacrifice he had made to stop the inevitable was proof that she scared Trace as much as she caught his eye.
Ryan shook off the thought, not wanting to relive the hell they’d been through for those interminably long hours when it had seemed their world had crumbled down around them. The day that Marissa had been kidnapped had been one of the worst days any of them had ever experienced.
Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, Ryan asked, “Anyone have a problem with this arrangement?”
“No,” Hunter and Casper said in unison.
“Nope,” Austin added.
“Not me,” Courtney chimed in.
Evan shook his head, as did Z.
“Whatever,” Colby grumbled.
Waiting for the final responses, Ryan looked at Clay, watching as his brother shot Trace a look that appeared to be very much a warning. Ryan tried to read Trace’s expression, but like always, the man had masked every emotion.
At the moment, it didn’t appear any of them would have to fear Marissa’s safety with Trace at the helm. Then again, based on Clay’s concerned glare, they might not all be on the same page.
“How long is this going to last?” Clay asked, the question directed at no one in particular.
“As long as it has to,” Ryan confirmed bluntly. “It has to stop. I want this bastard found, and I want this shit dealt with.” And that was an understatement. Ryan was growing increasingly tired of the games they were playing with these people who seemed to have their sights set on Marissa.
Although they had some strong suspicions, they still didn’t know exactly who they were dealing with, didn’t know why he’d started targeting her in the first place, and they damn sure didn’t know what his next step was going to be. If anything, the guy was one step ahead of them at all times. Which meant they needed to keep Marissa safe at all costs. The team hadn’t been entirely successful with protecting her up to this point. No one except for Trace, and that was after Trace had taken a personal interest in keeping her safe. Trace’s interference, the fact that he’d managed to bring her home in one piece, was about the only positive in the entire fucked up situation.
No matter what anyone thought, Marissa was safe with Trace. That was undeniable.
There was a round of gruff agreement from everyone at the table.
“Then it’s settled,” Casper stated. “Marissa will stay with Trace until we catch this guy. As for the rest of you, redirect your caseloads to the more junior agents if possible. I want everyone on this.”
“But no one outside of the immediate family,” Bryce tacked on.
“And me,” Z chimed in from his spot against the wall.
“That’s a given. You’re practically family,” Casper added.
Ryan did his best not to look at Z. He damn sure didn’t need any of his own personal reactions to the man to reflect on his face. He was having a hard enough time dealing with them; the last thing he needed was his family to catch on to the fact he had some inexplicable draw to the man.
“Agreed,” Bryce confirmed.
As the group dispersed, Ryan followed them out of the kitchen, keeping a close eye on Trace and Clay, who seemed to be going in the same direction. Figuring he needed to get a feel for what was going on between the two of them—specifically what had Clay’s back up about this decision—Ryan hesitated just long enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Trace started for the stairs that led up to Marissa’s room, but before he could make his escape, Clay stopped him while Ryan watched from a distance.
“Man, be careful with her.”
Ryan heard the threat as clearly as Clay intended it, but he also noticed that Trace didn’t seem to be offended by the statement. Neither man said anything as they stared back at one another for a long moment, clearly a silent communication being spoken loud and clear between the two of them.
“Just don’t hurt her,” Clay added. “You know as well as I do that she’s had a thing for you for a long time.”
Yeah, that was the only issue Ryan had with the whole thing as well. Not necessarily that Trace and Marissa had a thing for one another—they were all well aware of Marissa’s obvious infatuation with Trace. She thought no one knew, and he doubted she would ever admit it, but they knew. Hell, they knew everything that went on. She’d had a thing for Trace since she’d been a teenager, and no matter how much Trace had avoided her, that fascination had always seemed to linger. And Ryan had seen the man’s answering affection in recent years, although he was pretty sure Trace had fought it thus far.
As much as Ryan wanted to interfere, to offer his warning the same way Clay had, he wouldn’t. Although Marissa was their sister and they all rallied around her as protection, Ryan knew she was old enough to make her own decisions. Not to mention, she was smart. And as far as Ryan was concerned, she’d been cut off from the rest of them for far too long.
It was high time they took this fucker down and allowed her the opportunity to live her life the way she chose.
Because the alternative was no longer an option.
Seventeen
Trace called on every ounce of patience he had, but the hard glare from his friend wasn’t something to take lightly. Even he knew that much. And the warning about Marissa had been delivered exactly as Clay had intended. It was also highly unnecessary. At the moment, Trace didn’t have time to deal with Clay’s well-intended interference. He just needed to talk to Marissa so that they were on the same page.
Ultimately, although he didn’t care for the implied threat, Trace understood Clay’s reasoning. Clay was a good friend of Trace’s. They’d grown up together, graduated from high school together. Clay knew him better than anyone else. Well, anyone except for Z. And what Clay was referring to was immensely more personal than a mere job. But in Trace’s opinion, what happened between him and Marissa didn’t involve anyone else.
Would he have thought the same thing a few months ago? Before the unthinkable had happened? Before he’d allowed his emotion to get the best of him, putting himself in a position that could’ve cost him his life? No. Probably not.
But Trace knew the extent he would go to in order to protect Marissa. And it had nothing to do with the fact she was practically family. Because what he felt for her was nothing even remotely close to sisterly. It all boiled down to … he would lay down his own life to keep her safe.
Clay clearly didn’t understand that. Or maybe he did and he just wanted to be an ass.
Yes, Trace was well aware of the fact Marissa was attracted to him. It was one of the main reasons he’d kept his distance from the woman at all costs. He had an unexplainable attraction to her, as well, but knowing who he was and the danger he flirted with on a daily basis, he damn sure didn’t want to pull sweet, innocent Marissa Trexler down that dark and dirty path. After all, he wanted to protect her. At all costs.
Even from himself.
Nodding because he wasn’t sure he could make a promise in words, Trace held Clay’s stare.
“Shit,” Clay said on an exhale.
Trace was thinking the exact same thing. Keeping his hands off the woman wasn’t going to be easy. But he was damn sure going to try.
□«»□
Seve
ral minutes later, Trace made it to Marissa’s bedroom door. Refusing to waste any more time, he knocked firmly. His heart was racing ninety miles a minute, and it had nothing to do with the single flight of stairs he’d just ascended and everything to do with the woman he was about to confront.
“Come in,” her clipped voice called from the other side of the door.
Taking a deep breath, Trace turned the knob and pushed open the door. Doing his best to appear aloof as well as professional, he tried to keep his gaze focused on her face. Not an easy thing to do considering who he was dealing with. There was something about Marissa that drew his attention, and now was clearly not the time for him to get distracted by her.
After weighing the repercussions, Trace decided to close the door behind him. He hadn’t wanted to because, honestly, he didn’t trust himself alone with her. Not in her bedroom—last night had been a true test of his willpower, and it was a fucking wonder that he hadn’t failed.
But the conversation was probably going to get tense, and they needed a little privacy.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Marissa turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly. Her body language told him she felt the crackle in the air as much as he did, but she did a damn good job of pretending she didn’t. He hoped like hell he could act as well as she could.
“What?” she asked, her tone laced with irritation, although he got the impression she tried to temper her reaction somewhat.
Fail.
“We need to talk.”
“Then talk,” she said in a huff, her hands landing on her slender hips as she stared back at him.
Trace swallowed hard, trying to rein in the overwhelming need that seized him. With Marissa, there had always been an underlying tension between them.
Sexual? Probably.
Okay, yes. Definitely.
At least in the last few years.
Physical attraction could be potent; Trace was well aware of that. But when it came to his attraction to Marissa, it was far more than the desire to have her beneath him, claiming her body with his own. That was a large part of it, but Trace wanted more from her.
He wanted … everything.
Claiming her, possessing her, protecting her... It was a need he’d battled for longer than he cared to admit to.
Ignoring the pressing urge that ignited in his veins, Trace remembered the task at hand.
He was just about to open his mouth to say something when Marissa interrupted him.
“I get that you’re gonna make all my decisions for me. And I’m not gonna argue, especially after what happened last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you boss me around,” Marissa said suddenly, causing Trace to forget everything he’d been thinking about.
He wasn’t sure how to break it to her that she wouldn’t be calling the shots.
“I’m serious, Trace,” she added, obviously concerned that he hadn’t responded.
“Marissa…”
“Don’t ‘Marissa’ me,” she argued. “You got your way. Where I go, you go. But you’re the muscle; you don’t get to tell me what to do or when I can do it.”
For fuck’s sake.
If he’d thought at any point this would be simple—keep an eye on her until they nailed the bastard who was threatening her … no, amend that … the bastard who was trying to kill her—it was clear he’d been sorely mistaken.
“Until this asshole is caught, you won’t be goin’ anywhere. We’ll go to my place, but that’s it,” he informed her, inserting the dominance that was as much a part of him as breathing.
The idea of Marissa at his place still caused an unsettling feeling in Trace’s gut. He’d managed to keep his hands off her up to this point, but he was pretty damn sure that having her alone for an undetermined amount of time was going to push him past his own limits.
“Or so you think,” she argued, and Trace got the impression she was arguing for the simple sake of arguing.
Although she’d told him she wouldn’t.
He sighed.
Realizing he could probably get his point across better if he was nice about it, Trace swallowed his retort. “Just for grins, you mind telling me exactly how you intend for this to go?” he asked nicely, dropping onto the edge of her bed.
Mistake.
Sitting on a bed—her bed—with Marissa standing a few feet in front of him brought back a myriad of fantasies that he’d become intimately familiar with in recent years. Bouncing back to his feet, because, um, yeah, sitting on the bed was not going to work, Trace paced toward the large picture window that overlooked the front of the compound.
From where he stood, he could see his parents’ house far off in the distance, just a speck on the horizon. He knew that if he looked out the back windows of the house, he’d see TJ’s house on the other side of the compound, as well, just as far off.
After years of taking down the bad guys, infiltrating some rather revolting organizations, Casper, Bryce, and TJ had decided that a secure location for them was the only option to keep their wives and their children safe. Their decision: purchase hundreds of acres of land and construct houses in various locations.
Mission accomplished. Complex created.
Casper and Liz lived in one house, Bryce and Emily in another, and TJ and Steph in a third. From there, numerous smaller structures had been built for the kids. Although Trace didn’t live on site, Courtney, Hunter, and Conner, as well as Marissa’s brothers, did. TJ’s kids, all under the age of twenty-five, still lived with their parents, although it could possibly be the house that made them want to stay. With ten thousand square feet, it wasn’t as if they were actually under foot at all.
But not Trace. Trace had bolted from home the moment he was old enough. He would admit to being rebellious.
Too bad the decision to keep everyone in one place hadn’t helped to save one of their own. Conner’s wife had still died, and it hadn’t mattered where they were living, because her murder hadn’t happened there. It’d gone down where they worked.
“I want to go back to living my life like normal. I’m sick and tired of being cooped up.”
Trace turned to face Marissa, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “We all want that, but it’s not an option right now.”
Marissa’s face fell as though he’d actually told her something she didn’t already know. He shouldn’t have to explain this to her. Hell, the last attempt on her life had been merely a few days ago, and the last attempt to get to her had been last fucking night.
Rather than argue, because truthfully, neither of them were going to win, Trace kept his attention riveted to Marissa, willing her to say more.
“What are the rules?” Marissa finally huffed.
Trace wanted to smile, but he managed to contain it. “Until this is resolved, we’re staying at my place. No going out. No visiting friends, no friends visiting you.”
“No way,” she argued. “Not gonna happen, Trace. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been locked up for almost a whole year.”
Oh, he’d noticed. He’d also noticed that there were plenty of things she wasn’t aware of when it came to the threat to her. And he damn sure wasn’t going to put her in the line of fire, no matter how big of a fit she threw.
“Two options, Marissa,” Trace said, taking a deep breath. “One, we stay here—if that’ll make you feel better—where I can keep an eye on you and you’ll be closer to your parents. You’re safe here, to an extent. In my opinion, too many people know where you are, but with the security in place, I can protect you here.”
It was true, too many people, as in the agents who worked for Sniper 1, knew exactly where Casper, Bryce, and TJ lived. Trace probably wouldn’t have thought too much about it if it hadn’t been for the asshole who’d tried to break in last night or the fact that Bryce and Casper suspected there was a mole in their midst. According to what they’d shared, they very well could be dealing with an insider, which meant Marissa wasn’t safe no matter whe
re they kept her.
Except…
“Or, what’s my other option? Staying with you?” She didn’t sound at all pleased with the idea.
“Yes. Like I said.” Not exactly the ideal place to take her when it came to his peace of mind, but it was as secure as dwellings went and untraceable. “But I’m the boss. You’ll do exactly what I say, when I say it. No questions. No arguments.”
“What?”
Yeah, that was the reaction he’d been expecting.
“You heard me. We stay here with your parents or we go to my place. I’m even lettin’ you make the decision. But either way, we do things my way.”
Trace was surprised by the conflict that flashed in her clear blue eyes. Honestly, he’d made the suggestion because he’d thought it would be a no-brainer for her.
Apparently he’d been wrong.
□«»□«»□«»□
Marissa couldn’t believe she was standing here having this argument with Trace. She figured it had more to do with her nerves than a true desire to fight with him. The thought of being alone with him, at his place, was terrifying. Almost as terrifying as waiting for the bad guys to show up at her door and attempt to take her again.
But in the end, staying with Trace was certainly the lesser of two evils. If Trace wanted to play hardball, Marissa was fully onboard. After all, he clearly hadn’t expected her to agree to go to his place. Hell, she hadn’t known she would agree, but here they were.
However, it was obvious that the man clearly thought she’d sit back and let them continue to tell her what to do. That wasn’t the case anymore. This was her life.
Honestly, she would feel safer at Trace’s.
Sort of.
Marissa knew that Trace lived in a warehouse—or rather, what used to be a warehouse. It had been converted into an impressive living quarters according to how others had explained it. Not to mention, it put an entirely new perspective on security. No, she had never been there. No, she had absolutely no idea what to expect. Still, the idea of being in a secluded place did have its appeal.
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 15