Enforcer: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 4)

by Arran,Olivia

  She glanced up, her step faltering as she saw me for the first time. Her pale blue eyes widened, her mouth falling open.

  I slammed my hand over her mouth and pushed her against the damp brick wall. “You work for the Agency.”

  She squirmed, struggling in my grip. Blunt teeth dug into my palm.

  “Answer me,” I growled, giving her a shake for good measure.

  Her nostrils flared, her eyes widening. Then she did the strangest thing. She relaxed and patted my damn hand.

  What the hell? Wasn’t it obvious I would hurt her? That I’d do anything to make her talk? That I’m a man she shouldn’t be messing with—

  “Ahmyoarl.”

  “What?”

  She blinked at me, annoyance clouding her eyes.

  Ah, right. I moved my hand a fraction, ready to slam it back the second she screamed.

  “Are you Abel?” she squeaked, her hand darting up and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

  My hand fell away.

  “You are, aren’t you?” She looked me up and down, her eyes widening in what looked suspiciously like pleasure. “Wow, Frankie sure wasn’t fibbing when she said you were ripped. Gorgeous too!” Her pale skin flushed as she slammed her own hand over her mouth.

  What the fuck?

  “Frankie—where is she?” I jumped on the scrap of information.

  “Oh, noooo. That’s not a good idea,” she mumbled from behind her hand, shaking her head and sending her blonde hair swinging from side to side. Her hand dropped away, panic registering in her eyes. “You need to get out of here! What were you thinking? You’re going to get us all killed!” The last few words came out on a hiss as she gave me a shove.

  I didn’t move.

  Her eyebrows arched.

  I stared at her, giving her my best glower. She was going to tell me where Frankie was, like it or not.

  She sighed, clutching her chest with a smirk. “I can see why Frankie’s smitten.” Then she winked at me. “Look, you need to leave her alone for the moment. She’ll find you when she’s ready—”

  I grabbed her arm, keeping my grip light so as not to bruise. “I need to see her now.”

  “Now’s not a good time.” She made to move away, scowling when my grip held her in place. “Hey, didn’t you hear me the first time. You’re going to get us all killed.” Then she flicked the spot right between my eyes.

  Oh, yeah. She was Frankie’s friend, all right.

  “What did Frankie tell you about me?”

  Tugging her arm away, she leaned back against the wall, folded her arms and gave me a blunt stare. “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.” No.

  “She said you were fantastic in bed and could go for hours. Oh … and you’re an animal in the sack.” She grinned at me, enjoying my discomfort a little too much for my liking.

  Animal … had Frankie told her? Affecting a nonchalance I wasn’t feeling, I crossed my own arms, staring her down. “What kind of animal?”

  Her grin faded to be replaced with a look that screamed concern.

  Not surprising, given what I’d just asked her. This was the weirdest conversation I could remember having in a long time.

  “Never mind,” I added quickly. “I need to make sure she’s okay, she seemed pretty …” I searched for the right word to describe the last time I’d seen Frankie. Weird? Strange? Unhinged? Scared? I settled for, “…upset.”

  The woman considered me for a long moment, a silent argument dancing behind her eyes. Eventually she stuck out her hand.

  I stared at it. Did she expect me to shake it?

  “My name’s Dez.” She uncurled her fingers to reveal a bunch of keys. “We live at 408, Birchwood Avenue, two blocks in that direction.” She pointed back the way she had come. “Be good to her,” she instructed, dropping the keys into my hand. “And make sure you’re not followed. You don’t know what you’re up against, and I can’t tell you anymore out here. It’s too dangerous. Hell, even talking to you right now is dangerous.”

  And then she slipped by me and around the corner.

  408, Birchwood Avenue. My fingers curled around the warm metal until it dug into my hand.

  I now knew where she lived.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Frankie

  By the time I’d gotten home last night, I’d had enough energy to wash my feet and crawl into bed. No bath, no bubbles, nothing.

  So, I was making up for it this morning. I had music piping in the background, a rapidly cooling cup of coffee balanced on the side of the tub, and the bubbles were raspberry scented. Heaven.

  About to slide back under, I heard the scrabble of keys in the front door, then a soft click as it swung open. I tensed, then forced myself to relax. Dez must have forgotten something. Gulping in a big breath, I closed my eyes and slid under the water.

  I didn’t have a job on for today, and for the first time in ages I could do whatever the hell I wanted. I planned to lounge around in my pajamas for at least half of the day, eating my way through the cupboards and catching up on some reading. I was pretty sure one of my favorite authors had just released a new—

  A shadow fell over the bath, blocking out the light.

  I shot to the surface, blinking the water out of my eyes. “What the hell, Dez—”

  It wasn’t Dez.

  Abel stood in front of me, and he was mad. Until his eyes landed on my breasts, which were bobbing merrily away on top of the water.

  I ducked back down, scooping bubbles and arranging them artfully. It didn’t matter that he’d already seen me naked every which way a couple of days ago, he hadn’t seen me naked today.

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down beneath the thick stubble.

  Geez, he looked good enough to eat. Or at least nibble on. The water swished as I shook my head free of the naughty images of Abel climbing in with me, his skin sliding against mine in the hot water, legs pushing between mine as he—

  “You’re okay?” His voice sounded hoarse, strained. “I was worried …” he trailed off, his eyes pulling away from my face back to the mounds of bubbles.

  “Worried?” I echoed. How had he found me? Then I remembered the scrape of a key turning in the lock. “Dez gave you a key?” It didn’t seem likely, but it was the only possible explanation.

  He nodded, his jaw strained and shoulders tense.

  I glanced down. His jaw wasn’t the only thing straining.

  “Uh …” I wet my lips, unable to drag my eyes away from the tempting bulge in his jeans. This isn’t a good idea, remember? “Pass me a towel?”

  He didn’t move, his eyes flickering with gold heat.

  “Abel?” I pushed wet hair out of my face, peering up at him.

  His eyes narrowed, then he dragged in a deep breath, his chest heaving and arms cording with bulging muscles.

  Pivoting on his heel, he turned and marched out of the room.

  Okay, then. No towel. Giving the bubbles one last longing glance, I dragged myself to standing, water streaming off me and dripping onto the floor as I wrapped a fluffy white towel around myself. Bundling my hair into another towel, I padded into the living area.

  Abel was banging around in the kitchenette, slamming cupboards and rattling drawers like a man on a mission.

  Curling up on the couch, I tugged the towel down and reminded myself that this was a man who’d already seen me naked. So what if I was showing a bit of leg?

  “Abel?”

  The banging continued, and if I wasn’t mistaken, more violently than before. I winced as he slammed two mugs down on the counter.

  “Abel,” I tried again. “Why are you here?” It was weird seeing him in my home, his broad frame taking up too much space and making the already small apartment feel tiny.

  Sloshing water into the mugs, he slammed the kettle back down and made his way over.

  I accepted the cup he thrust toward me, sniffing it gingerly. Hot cocoa. A smile tugged at my lips.


  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  My smile faltered at the glower on his face. Cradling the mug against my chest, I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re happy.”

  “I am happy. You gave me chocolate.”

  “It’s your chocolate. And you shouldn’t be happy.” He perched in a chair opposite me, his back ram rod stiff and his jaw set in a grim line.

  “Why not? What more does a girl need?”

  “A face that’s not smashed up? No handprint on her arm?” His voice was a low growl, his fingers tightening around the mug to the point I was worried for its well being.

  “Ah.” I didn’t know what else to say. He was pissed because I had a couple of bruises.

  “Ah? That’s it? Someone punched you in the face and manhandled you, and all you can say is ah?” His voice rose as he lurched to his feet, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug as he slammed it down on the table.

  I stuck my chin out, refusing to be cowed. I might not be as big and mean as him, but I could look after myself. “I was working.”

  His hand shot through his hair as he swung away from me, his head bowing on an exasperated sigh.

  My eyes followed the strong swell of his bicep, skipping to the undeniably fragile length of his neck, exposed and vulnerable. He was a man who didn’t trust easy, who considered everyone an enemy and thought nothing of disposing of those who got in his way.

  But he cared about me.

  “You’re angry. Why?” I knew why, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  Another drawn out sigh, then he turned around. His face was furrowed in deep lines of anguish. “You’re going to make me say it?”

  Yup. “I’m not a mind reader.”

  “I … I care.”

  I crossed my arms, a scowl on my face letting him know I wasn’t impressed. “About world peace?”

  He scowled back at me. “Geez, Frankie …”

  “It’s not that hard. Grow a pair, and—”

  “I care about you.”

  “See! There you go.” I tried for flippant, but underneath it, I was glowing at his declaration. It might not sound like much to some, but for Abel …? I took a sip of my cocoa, buying time while trying to calm my thundering heart. “I’ll try not to let anybody beat me up again. How’s that?”

  “Not good enough.”

  I set my mug down on the table, next to his. Smoothing the white towel down over my thighs, I took a deep breath. It was way too early for this conversation, but I got the idea he wasn’t leaving until he got what he’d come for.

  Whatever that was.

  “What do you want?”

  “For you to be safe.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think about it. I could hear the honesty in his voice.

  “You being here puts me in danger, I’m sure Dez mentioned that little fact. I know I did.”

  He strode forward, towering over me. “Let me protect you.”

  Craning my neck, I stared up at him. He believed he could. I could see it in his eyes. He had no idea what he was up against, but he was willing to throw down anyway. For me.

  Heat rushed to my face, foolish tears pricking at my eyes. I ducked my head, tugging the towel off my hair and letting the thick strands fall free to create a barrier between us. “You can’t,” I eventually forced out past a throat thick with longing.

  A hand pushed back my hair, hooking it behind my ear. He was crouched in front of me, peering at me with a look in his eyes that I couldn’t name. “I can. Let me try.”

  “I’m not worth it.”

  His hand clenched into a fist, an emotion clouding his eyes that I had no trouble recognizing—pure anger. “Don’t ever say that again.”

  “It’s the truth. You don’t know me; we’ve spent all of, what, seven nights together?” And every single one was etched into my memory, every whisper, every touch, every kiss. “Take it from me, you don’t want to do this.”

  “You think you can tell me what to do?”

  “Always,” I immediately replied, offering him a weak smile.

  “How about a little challenge, then? I take out the Agency and I get to choose my prize.”

  My heart stuttered at the thought. “You can’t take them out! They’re too big, too powerful.”

  “Doubting my abilities? Careful, you’ll hurt my feelings.” And then he winked at me.

  The thought of having someone fight with me, rather than against me, was tempting. Screw that, it was as intoxicating as a siren’s lure, calling to me with tantalizing glimpses of a future I’d never dared to dream of. And it would solve the whole Dez problem. If the Agency was forced to shut down, Dez would be free.

  His finger tilted my chin up. “Is that a yes?”

  It was a fool’s mission. Suicide. But I couldn’t think of any other way.… “And if I’m the one to take out the Agency, what’s my prize?”

  “Anything you want.”

  My heart thudded in my chest as I stared into his eyes. Anything I want. What if that’s you?

  “You’re on.” I grinned at him.

  His mouth sealed against mine in a kiss so soft it stole my breath clean away. Pulling back, he smirked at me. “Now we’re on.”

  Swallowing back a stammer, I nodded.

  He sighed, looking me up and down, raw longing shining in his eyes. “Get dressed. You need to tell me everything you know about the Agency and I need to be able to concentrate.”

  Scrambling off the couch, I nearly skipped into the bedroom as his words sunk in, settling for injecting a little swing to my hips instead. He’d outright admitted I was a distraction.

  It was the best goddamn compliment an assassin could give.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abel

  “Okay, what’s the plan?” Frankie collapsed back onto the couch, taking up her previous position with a grace that hinted at habit.

  This was her home, full of secrets about the woman behind the assassin. So far, all I had deduced was that she liked bright colors and craved comfort. The comfort I’d already guessed, with her love for chocolate and sensible boots, however, the color? I’d only ever seen Frankie dressed in dark, curve hugging black. Like what she had on now.

  She leaned forward, snagging my attention.

  But was that a pink bra strap peeking out from her vest?

  “Abel?”

  “Huh?” Giving myself a mental shake, I dragged my eyes back up to her face. She was giving me that look, the one women reserved for men when they knew exactly where their minds had been. I cleared my throat, choosing to ignore her knowing grin. “Tell me everything you know about the Agency.”

  “Not much really. I woke up there one day, I was thirteen, nearly fourteen.” She hesitated, picking at invisible fluff on her pants. “I don’t know how I got there, or why they took me, but I learned the rules fast. Every day was the same, we woke up, showered, worked out, ate, went to classes, ate, then went to bed.”

  “What kind of classes?”

  “You know, the kind every thirteen-year-old needs: hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. Basic life skills really.”

  I nodded, a picture already building in my head. “How many kids?”

  “In my dorm there were …” She tilted her head, her forehead creasing as she tried to remember. “…Fifteen to begin with. At least, I think there was. I was moved out of there not long after and received one-on-one training.” She screwed up her face. “I can’t remember their names, just a blur of faces. Why can’t I remember?”

  I was guessing drugs. Steering the conversation, I asked, “Any idea why they moved you out of the group?”

  “They said I showed promise.” She grimaced as though the word was distasteful, adding a shrug that did nothing to disguise her distress.

  “No, you did good. What do you think happened to the kids that didn’t perform?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hollow; she knew. She had to have guessed.

 
After all, I assumed the Agency wasn’t in the business of wasting money or resources on failed experiments.

  “What happened next?” I asked, prompting her out of the silence she’d sunk into.

  “When I was moved from the main group, they paired me with Dez. We roomed together, ate together, and sometimes trained together—though Dez wasn’t an operative like me, she took classes in other things like hacking and surveillance and emergency medicine. Though she didn’t need much teaching when it came to hacking, the girl is a genius.”

  I leaned back in the chair, steepling my fingers under my chin. “So, you and Dez were paired as a team. That’s interesting.”

  “Yeah, they keep the operatives on the outside. Our only way of communicating with the Agency is through our handler.”

  “Probably so you don’t turn rogue and take them all out.”

  She stiffened at the imagined dig. “You think I haven’t thought about it? Just marching in there and killing them all?”

  “Why haven’t you?” It was a serious question. They had trained her to be a stone cold killer and armed her to the teeth. Why hadn’t she sought retribution?

  “I don’t kill good people.”

  “And the Agency is good?”

  “The people who work for them aren’t all bad. Dez works for them, and people like her.”

  I nodded, reading between the lines. “You vet your hits before accepting them?”

  “Yes. No matter what they did to me, I refused to go after good people, only the criminals.”

  Hackles raised, I swallowed back the growl rumbling up through my throat. “What did they do to you?”

  She looked away, but not before I caught the shadow of fear in her eyes. She swallowed, her throat working as she wet her lips. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t break; they did. I choose my jobs.”