by Amelia Elias
Diego could have died for her.
Sian shuddered at the thought of another innocent life being lost because of her. As much as Diego annoyed her, she didn’t want him to die because of her. The memory of his bloodstained shirt shot through her and she drew her legs up, pressing her forehead to her knees and wishing she could disappear. She couldn’t stop shaking, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball somewhere and hide.
She wasn’t a cop anymore. She wasn’t the tough cookie who had taken on one of Savannah’s biggest drug lords. She wasn’t the brave woman who had ditched the Witness Protection Program and decided to take her chances with her safety on her own. She was just a woman now, and she felt incredibly alone and terribly afraid she would never feel safe again.
* * *
Chapter Nine
Strong arms suddenly came around her and held her close. “Easy,” Diego murmured, rocking her gently. “It’s all right now. I’ve got you. It’s over.”
Sian forgot her pride and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight and hiding her face against his chest. She didn’t care right now that she didn’t dare trust him and couldn’t protect him. She wanted comfort and he was offering it.
“You might have died,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears threatening to escape. “And it would have been my fault!”
“Shh,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “I’m not that easy to kill, querida.”
She shook her head, wanting to believe him but knowing it wasn’t true. Everyone thought they were hard to kill right up until they were staring down the barrel of a gun. She held him tighter and tried to pull herself back together, but inside she was falling apart. She hated for anyone to see her like this but she couldn’t stop clinging to him, taking the comfort he offered as she tried not to break down completely.
Diego stroked her hair again, reassuring her without words, rocking her until her trembling eased and her silent tears stopped. “I know you don’t believe many things I’ve told you,” he murmured when she quieted at last, “but if you believe nothing else I ever say, believe this. I will keep you safe, Sian. I swear on my life I will.”
His quiet declaration brought tears back to her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “You don’t know anything about me,” she whispered.
“I know about Enrique Santonyo.”
She gasped and jerked back, staring up at him in shock. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he would say such a thing. For a moment she couldn’t find her voice and when she did she could only manage one word. “How?”
He gave her a little smile but his eyes were steely. “I would have liked you to tell me, but it’s enough that I know,” he said as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with gentle fingers. “I know what happened in Savannah and I know why you want to run again now. Santonyo won’t touch you ever again. I won’t let him get within a mile of you. If he tries, I’ll make him wish he’d never drawn breath, and that’s a promise.”
She shivered at both the mention of her enemy’s name and the dark threat in Diego’s voice. “You’re only one man,” she said, trying to be reasonable when everything inside her ached to grab the security he offered. “He has a hundred or more at his disposal. You don’t understand how he thinks, how seriously he takes revenge. He’ll stop at nothing to get to me, Diego, and he won’t hesitate to go through you to do it.”
“I’d love for him to try.” Diego brushed her hair back from her face, a tender gesture that touched her all the way to the heart despite her resolve not to let it. “Querida, I think I know more about revenge than he could even imagine, and I will stop at nothing to keep you safe. He has terrorized you long enough and it ends here. You don’t have to run anymore.”
Sian wanted to throw herself back into his arms, but pulled away instead. She wanted to believe him. God, how she wanted to have a safe haven, a place where her past couldn’t touch her, but it was selfish to lead Santonyo to Diego. She’d already almost gotten him killed once. She couldn’t live with herself if Santonyo found out where she was and hurt Diego or James.
Diego let her go but gently pressed her back into the chair when she started to get up to leave. “You need to eat,” he said, turning to the refrigerator. “I’ll make you something.”
She watched him pull out a handful of vegetables and start to put together a salad for her. “I thought you said you were a vampire,” she said, trying for humor to hide how scattered she still felt. “Why do you know how to cook? I thought the occasional Bloody Mary would be the extent of your culinary skills.”
He gave her a grin over his shoulder as he chopped a carrot, and she could have kissed him for embracing the lighter mood she was trying to set. “Someone has to take care of James when he gets sick and stays in bed, whining that he’s too weak to come to the kitchen and fend for himself.” He brandished the knife like Zorro. “I make a mean chicken noodle soup.”
That grin should be outlawed, Sian thought as she tried to focus on what Diego had said. “I thought he was your servant,” she said.
Diego shrugged. It sent muscles rippling all the way down his back. “Technically that’s true, but you try convincing him he’s a servant,” he replied, tossing everything into a bowl and pouring dressing on for her. “When I need him, he takes care of me, and vice versa. In the end, we’re both better off for the arrangement.”
Sian stared at the salad he put in front of her. It looked delicious but her stomach clenched at the thought of eating anything. Diego nudged her fork closer. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”
“Aren’t you having anything?”
He gave her another smile and sent her thoughts scattering. “I think I’ll live without feeding for one night,” he replied lightly. “Now eat.”
She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by “feeding” but thought better of it when he gave her a knowing smile. She might be exhausted and scattered, but she wasn’t stupid enough to walk into that one.
When she finished the salad, Diego took the bowl and put it in the sink before taking both her hands and drawing her to her feet. “You’re not used to staying up all night,” he said as he urged her out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. “And I know you didn’t sleep well yesterday. I’m putting you to bed early tonight, wildcat.”
Sian thought about digging in her heels and protesting, but he was right. She was completely wiped out. Still, she couldn’t let that “wildcat” remark slide. “I don’t need you to put me to bed, caveman.”
He laughed. “Are you trying to get tossed over my shoulder again?”
Sian quickened her pace to put some distance between them and Diego laughed again. “I think your shoulder’s had all the excitement it can stand for one night,” she said as she hurried up the stairs in front of him. “And speaking of beds, I want my own.”
Diego didn’t reply until they reached his door. Sian turned to face him instead of opening the door, her chin raised stubbornly. “Diego, I want my own bed,” she repeated.
“I heard you the first time.”
He reached past her and opened the door. Sian didn’t go through it. “I know you’re hung up on this ‘bondmate’ nonsense,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring despite her fatigue, “but it’s not true. I am not your wife. I’m not even your girlfriend. I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with you. Now are you going to give me a place of my own to sleep or am I going to take you up on your offer of a car to drive away in?”
Diego sighed. “Just because you don’t want to believe something doesn’t make it untrue,” he murmured, reaching up and touching her cheek lightly. “I know you don’t understand anything about bonding or my people and I know this is hard for you. Give it some time, Sian. Give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
She realized she should have knocked his hand away before he dropped it on his own and was furious with herself for not beating him to it. “And all I’m asking is for a little
space and a little privacy,” she replied. “You’ve put a weird tattoo on me without my consent, given me clothes that make me look like a slut, refused to even let me have any decent underwear, and I think I’ve been a damn good sport about all of this. Is it too much to ask for you leave me alone while I sleep?”
Diego sighed and stepped back. “You have never looked like a slut and I don’t think I’m the one responsible for the positions you manage to wake up in,” he said, but before she could snap at him he waved a hand at the hall. “All right, you win. Pick a room.”
“Thank you.” Sian stepped past him and opened the first door she came to. The room behind it was enormous, almost a suite in itself, with a couch and armchair grouped at one end and a tall bed almost as large as Diego’s on a raised dais at the other. She glimpsed a door to a bathroom across from the little living area. “This one,” she said, overwhelmed by the luxury of this guest room and too tired to look any farther.
“It’s yours.”
Sian turned to get her gown and robe from Diego’s room and found him holding them out to her. She hadn’t even heard him move. “Thanks,” she said as she took them from him. Then she groaned, remembering the things she’d bought at the variety store. Yet again she was stuck with no underwear. “I forgot my shopping bag,” she said when Diego looked at her in concern.
He smiled at her. “I will get you something to wear, Sian, I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, turning and going into her new room. “Right after hell freezes over, right?”
She started to close the door but Diego stopped her. “Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?” he asked, clearly trying to look as pitiful as possible.
Sian laughed. Beneath the hangdog expression, his eyes were positively sinful. “You’re hopeless. Do you never give up?”
“Not when I see something I want.” A little thrill went through her as he looked at her, leaving her no doubt exactly what he meant. He leaned closer, a hand braced on the doorframe and a clear challenge in his tone. “I’ve given you what you wanted, querida. Is it too much to ask for you to do the same for me?”
She caught herself twisting her nightgown into knots and made herself stop it. “I have a feeling that if I gave you what you wanted, I’d be right back in your bed, and my lack of panties wouldn’t be an issue.” Dear Lord, had that really just come out of her mouth?
He dropped all attempts to look innocent and grinned. “You said it, not me.”
Sian knew she should tell him no, slam the door in his face and lock it, but she couldn’t make herself do it. He stood there looking like pure sin, his lips more tempting than Godiva chocolate. Despite her resolve not to respond, everything female in her rose up and demanded a taste. Surely one little goodnight kiss couldn’t hurt.
Sian leaned up and pressed her lips to his before she could chicken out. His lips were firm, the roughness of his goatee abrading her cheek in a way that was entirely too pleasant. He didn’t try to take control of the kiss even when she hesitantly ran her tongue over his lower lip, asking for entrance. When his tongue touched hers, hot desire shot through her to pool low in her belly. He tasted like everything she’d ever been warned against and she couldn’t resist going back for more, another soft, slow kiss that seemed to spin on forever.
When she realized what she was doing, Sian pulled back. He let her go, but when she looked back up at him his eyes were burning and his breath came fast against her mouth. The thought that she’d done this to him with a simple kiss sent heat washing through her and she almost leaned up to do it again.
She caught herself just in time. “Goodnight,” she whispered, scooting back at top speed and closing the door in his face. She didn’t care if she was rude. This was about self-preservation, not politeness.
She heard his deep chuckle through the door and bit her lip. “Sleep well,” he murmured, and despite the softness of his voice she had no problem hearing him. His words seemed to caress her despite the solid wood between them. “Dream of me.”
Sian sincerely hoped she wouldn’t.
But she did anyway.
* * *
Sian woke some unknown time later and stretched lazily. She felt about a thousand percent better. Much as she hated to admit it, Diego had been right. She’d needed this.
Remembering the last time she’d woken with this feeling of peace and contentment, Sian slowly reached out and patted the bed beside her, almost expecting to find Diego there. The bed was empty. Sian opened her eyes and pushed down a strange feeling of disappointment as she threw the covers back. After the wildly erotic dreams she’d had all night, dreams—which had all starred Diego, featured slow, hot kisses, and ended in heights too amazing to possibly be real—she would’ve killed him had she woken up and found him there. She was clearly still half-asleep, that’s all. No way she missed the feeling of lying in his arms.
Sian stood. Halfway to the bathroom, she realized she hadn’t brought a change of clothes from Diego’s room last night, and headed toward the bedroom door instead. She’d sneak into his room, snag a change of clothes, and be out of there quiet as a mouse. She turned the doorknob slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible—
It didn’t turn.
Disbelief wiped away the last of the contentment she’d woken with. Sian stared at the door, trying the knob again as anger started to overtake her. How dare he lock her in? He had sworn repeatedly last night she wasn’t a prisoner, and now he locked her in her room?
Sian pounded on the door and shouted for a few minutes before giving up angrily. She spun around and stared at the heavy curtains covering the windows, thinking of trying to escape through there again. She’d had enough of this. She didn’t like games. But something on the couch caught her eye when she started toward the window.
Diego lay on her couch, sleeping deeply, his bare chest magnificently displayed and a black satin sheet covering him from the waist down.
Sian stared for a minute, completely taken aback. He must sleep like the dead not to have awakened with all the racket she’d made pounding on the door. She walked over and hesitated, trying to get up the nerve to reach out and shake him awake. His bare skin looked entirely too inviting. Did she dare to touch him right now after having such erotic dreams about him all night?
She shook herself, reaching for her anger again and trying not to stare, but good Lord, the man was gorgeous. What harm would a little staring do before she woke him up and gave him a tongue-lashing he’d never forget?
Her thoughts were cut short when she realized he hadn’t taken a breath the entire time she’d been standing there.
“Diego!” Sian cried, forgetting all the mean things she’d been planning to say to him and shaking him by his shoulders. That gunshot wound last night hadn’t been enough to kill him, she was sure of it. Had he been injured somewhere else and hadn’t told her? Had he been coming to her for help and collapsed on the couch before he could reach her? “Diego, wake up!”
Nothing. Fighting down panic, Sian pressed her ear to his chest and prayed to hear a heartbeat. “Don’t you dare die on me or I swear I’ll kill you,” she whispered, closing her eyes and listening hard.
Finally she heard it. His heart was still beating, it was just beating so slowly she’d missed it at first. Pressed against his chest like this, she was barely able to discern the faint rise and fall of his slow breaths. Sian wanted to cry with relief and hated herself for it.
It’s just relief that I’m not stuck in here with a dead body, she told herself firmly as she sniffled, ignoring that she was still sitting here on the edge of the couch with her head on his chest and her hands clutching his shoulders for dear life.
Finally Sian managed to raise her head, making sure his eyes were still closed before wiping her eyes with the hem of her robe. He didn’t move a muscle. She frowned. She’d never in her life encountered anyone who slept this deeply.
Was he only sleeping or was he unconscious?
Sian reached up and
ran her hands through his hair, checking his head for any signs he’d been knocked out. Almost at once her thoughts were derailed by the silky texture of his hair sliding through her fingers. She’d never known a man with such thick, satiny hair. It was enough to make a girl jealous. She slid her hand through his hair again, more slowly this time, her fingertips lightly brushing his scalp before trailing down the back of his neck.
His skin was warm beneath her fingers, his muscles firm as she ran her palms across his shoulders. Sian’s mouth went dry and she bit her lip, trying to focus. Injuries. She was looking for injuries, not copping a feel!
But maintaining her focus was a challenge as she glanced back down at his chest. She’d touched him before, but she’d been mostly asleep at the time. The thought of sliding her hands over those curling dark hairs and all that lush skin while she was awake enough to appreciate it was enough to make her pulse kick into high gear. She hesitated a moment before pressing her palms to his chest, biting her lip again. The man had muscles to spare, and even relaxed in sleep he looked like a master’s sculpture come to life.
Sian took a deep breath to steady herself and ran her hands down his sides, trying to ignore how very good he felt and concentrate on checking for hidden wounds. She didn’t find anything amiss, but for some reason her hands didn’t stop sliding back over his ribs. The ridges of his muscles teased her palms. Her gaze traveled over his flat stomach, his abs defined even in sleep, and her fingers smoothed over them of their own accord.
Her breath caught. She could see his abdomen just fine. There was no need to check for injuries with her hands. Her mind knew it was the truth, but her hands weren’t listening. They were telling her every inch of him needed to be thoroughly explored and were itching to get started.
