by Em Petrova
“I’m setting up surveillance. Did you think you were opening alone? Everything that happens in this shop, every word that is spoken, every look given, I will know about.” With that, he walked away, following his team to the office.
Her office.
In a fit, she kicked a dress out of her way and ran after them. What she saw made her pull up short. High-tech devices being unpacked from boxes, along with tools.
“I need holes in every wall,” Dylan instructed.
Her jaw dropped. After a full twenty seconds, she snapped it shut and found the words lying like volcanic rocks on her tongue. “Holes for what?”
He didn’t look up from the camera in his hand. “How do you think I’m watching your store without cameras?”
“Are you serious? You can’t just punch holes all over the place and install cameras. If you’re trying to be covert, you’re not doing a very good job.”
The guy known as Chaz sniggered, and Dylan shot him a dark look.
Athena stood there waiting for answers, but nobody seemed in a hurry to provide them.
Finally, realizing she wasn’t going to get what she wanted, she spun on her bare feet and stomped into her shop. She switched on a few lights in the front section of the store and set about picking up gowns and putting them back on hangers. The longer she worked, the angrier she became.
What exactly had those men been searching for? Did they think she had a collection of bombs hidden among the boning of the bodices?
Just as she hung up the final gown on the rack and stood back to note how wrinkled everything was, Dylan and Chaz emerged from the office. Dylan pointed at a spot high on one wall and Chaz took a hammer to the drywall.
She screamed.
They turned to stare at her, and she lowered her hand from her mouth to spew all the words pent up inside. She strode up to Dylan and stabbed a finger at his chest. “Give me that hammer because I’m going to punch a hole in you! What am I supposed to do to hide that? My customers don’t want to believe they’re being watched! These aren’t teens in the hood!”
He fished into his pocket and came out with a nail. He handed it to Chaz, who nailed it in above the hole. Then Dylan strutted over to the clothing rack and took down a gown. He carried it back and handed it to Chaz, who hung it on the nail, covering the hole.
Athena set her hands on her hips. “Seriously? How does that even help you? Can your cameras see through fabric?”
He twisted his mouth in a way that made her want to punch him. But she also remembered how good those lips had felt moving over hers, how much more she’d wanted after pulling away.
“Don’t worry about our methods. You’d better get to work—there aren’t many hours left in the night.”
She bit off another scream and the following rant that bubbled to her lips. Spinning, she lit into the shoe wall next, cursing under her breath as she had to match each pair and inspect them for damage before placing them neatly onto the shelves.
Meanwhile, the men crawled all over her store. Each time she heard that hammer breaking through her drywall, she ground her molars harder. She was helpless, at their mercy, and there was nobody she could call for help in this matter right now.
Although, she had plenty to say as soon as the opportunity arose.
“Put it right there.”
She turned at Dylan’s deep voice, trying not to think about how hard her nipples pinched at the mere sound of it.
Then she saw what he was instructing Chaz to do.
Athena dropped everything and walked over. “What are you doing?”
“This device has to sit on your counter near the register.”
“Oh sure, that military surveillance device won’t look out of place in this boutique. Are you going to stand by the door with your arms folded and glare at all my customers too? Because a bad ass dude who screams military won’t seem weird at all.” She shoved her curls behind her ear but as usual, the thick mass wouldn’t stay and fell forward again.
Dylan’s eyes roamed from her hair to her face and back again. At his fierce expression, she stopped mid-tirade. Her stupid heart picked up the rhythm.
Then he dropped his gaze to her mouth, and she… she…
What had she been thinking about?
Oh yes, she wanted to knee him in the balls for looking at her like he wanted to eat her up slowly. She curled her toes into the floorboards and tried to harness her raging hormones.
“You think I’m bad ass?”
She blinked. Was he seriously looking for an ego stroke right now?
“Ugh.” She turned away and pushed the device he’d placed on the counter back at him. “Take this away.”
“No need. I thought of another way.” He withdrew a small screwdriver from his pocket and as she looked on, popped the cover off the device. He deconstructed the unit right in front of her eyes, spreading the small parts out across the marble counter. Then he picked up several and began fitting them back together in a new way like a kid with Lego toys.
What the hell? This man wasn’t just delicious biceps threatening to pop the seams of his T-shirt or shoulders that could rival most NFL players’. When he’d begun setting up the surveillance system, she hadn’t considered he was a tech genius.
He caught her staring and gave her a crooked smile. And damn if that didn’t slide straight between her thighs and nearly draw a groan from her.
“The guys call me a nerd, but I don’t mind. I can build just about anything from a little bit of nothing.”
From several feet away, his brother Chaz called out, “And hack anything. Even the Pentagon.”
She nearly choked on the air she was sucking in. “The Pentagon?”
“That was years ago,” Dylan muttered, focused on the intricate parts he was forming into a device no bigger than a fat beetle. He straightened and held out the device on his broad palm. “Is that too detectable now?”
“Um…” God, she felt all shivery now. A handsome guy with muscles for days was great. But a handsome guy with muscles and brains?
He was giving her that crooked grin again, the corner of his hard mouth cutting up into his cheek and creating a smile line she wanted to trace with her fingertips—right before she kissed him.
Okay, she was sleep-deprived and distraught. Losing it now was not an option.
“It’s fine.” Her voice was too faint for her liking and with her phenomenal luck, Dylan would realize how he was affecting her. After all, he must get it all the time.
He looked at her more closely, and his brows etched together with concern. “You look tired, Athena. I’m sorry you didn’t get more rest before we dragged you back here.”
She stiffened. Irritation washed over her. No woman liked to be told she looked tired. They wanted to hear they were beautiful and fresh-faced goddesses. She snapped her mind shut on any softening toward him.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
She resumed her work and fought to ignore the man standing far too close for comfort. He might be five steps away, but she could almost feel the heat coming off his body not to mention that kiss they’d shared in the heat of the storm...
After conquering the shoes and then part of the jewelry—some necklaces were hopelessly tangled and would take her days to put to rights—she leaned against the counter and stared at her shop.
Things were looking better, though later she had to do something about that dress hanging on the nail high on the wall supposedly concealing Dylan’s camera. With luck, she might be able to open in… three hours.
She glanced to the windows at the storefront and saw the first glimmers of shapes as the night began to brighten from black to shades of gray.
Someone nudged her arm.
She looked up to find Dylan standing there balancing a tray of coffees on one palm and gripping a big bag. From the heavenly scents of yeast, she could only guess it was donuts from the bakery down the block.
“Oh my God. I never get these.” She grabbed t
he bag and peeked inside. Glaze ran down the sides of puffy donuts. She reached in and pulled one out. “The bakery’s always closed by the time I get here.”
“Gotta come in the middle of the night. I almost didn’t get any either—Mardi Gras has everybody roaming the streets late.”
She really must be dead on her feet, because a smile broke over her face as she bit into the donut. The dough melted in her mouth and sweet glaze hit her tongue. She moaned.
When she saw Dylan staring at her in that dark way that made her inner thighs tremble, she lowered the donut.
His gaze locked on her lips. “You’ve got… some glaze.” He sounded as if he’d taken a bullet and was trying to mask the pain in his voice.
She swiped her tongue over her lips, and he growled. In one step, he was up against her, pulling her into his firm body.
“God, I want to kiss you again. Tell me I shouldn’t kiss you again.”
She couldn’t think of how to form those words. “I…”
“Hell.” He swooped in and crushed his mouth over hers. Licking over her lips and then thrusting his tongue inside. She barely had a chance to wrap her mind around it before he was withdrawing.
He stepped back, chest heaving. Somehow, the man was still balancing the coffees and he set them on the counter to run his fingers through his military-short hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
What did she say to that?
“Thanks for the breakfast.”
“No problem. I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I got it black. Cream and sugar are in the bag.”
She nodded, uncaring about the donut she held now crushed in her hand. Dylan took one of the coffees for himself and walked away. She watched his fine back before recovering from whatever had just happened.
What had just happened? He’d kissed her again and just as quickly ended it.
She didn’t know what to think of the man and definitely couldn’t process how he made her feel. Not just his kisses but even the act of giving her breakfast made her feel special and cared for. She’d been on her own for a lot of years, and human kindness or connection wasn’t something she’d experienced since the death of her mother and then her father within the same year. More than once since their passing, she’d thought of how nice it would be to have someone take care of her again, even if it was just making her dinner.
Dylan had done that and more.
But no, she was just a job to him. All these things she was thinking and feeling were false. She couldn’t even trust herself right now.
* * * * *
Dammit, why had he kissed her again? He’d given into his baser instincts and claimed those plump lips for his own, and now he had a raging boner as well as a crack in his conscience.
She was under his charge, and the last thing he wanted was for her to believe he was taking advantage of her.
Automatically, he took a sip of the coffee he held but tasted nothing but that sweet woman standing not far away, trying to appear busy. But he could tell by the set of her spine that she was as affected by their kiss as he was.
Hell.
He watched her for another minute and then Chaz got his attention. “All finished and just in time. I’m going to head out of here before the streets start filling up for celebrations. Mind if I take one of those donuts?”
“No, go ahead,” he said absently.
Chaz walked over to the donut bag and took one fat ring. Then he said something quietly to Athena.
She turned to glance at Dylan, and his gut tightened painfully. Son of a bitch, he hadn’t felt this way about anyone since the seventh grade when he’d get butterflies each time Mandy Harkness would glance at him in study hall. He’d never admitted that to his brothers, not wanting to be teased or for one of them to go over his head and ask her out on Dylan’s behalf.
He hoped to hell Chaz wasn’t doing that with Athena now.
Will you go out with my brother Y or N?
He cut off a groan. Chaz said something else that brought a small smile to the edges of Athena’s lips. Dylan focused on her eyes, though, and they looked like flint—dark with anger and annoyance. And why shouldn’t she feel those things? Knight Ops had torn apart her life and her boutique and then ordered her to restore it all in the same twenty-four hours.
Chaz took his leave with a chin lift of goodbye to Dylan, and he returned it. The team mantra filled his head: Guts and glory. Besides words to live by, the saying had become a greeting or farewell, depending on occasion.
Dylan and Athena exchanged a look. They were alone.
That roused deep pangs in his groin. Getting her against the wall or over that counter—
“Don’t you have something to hook up or a screen to watch?” Her snappish tone slammed him, and he suddenly wished things were much different. That he could have met her on different terms—at a Mardi Gras party or at the coffeeshop. Then he wouldn’t be the enemy and she wouldn’t be off limits.
Since the last of his team had left the shop, the air seemed charged.
Athena was right—he couldn’t stand around staring at her this way. It wasn’t doing either of them any good, and the zipper on his jeans was in jeopardy.
Turning, he walked into the office.
The place smelled like her perfume but otherwise was devoid of her personal touches. No photos, no vases of flowers.
While he knew her story from researching her background, those details did not spell out a personality. What did she like?
One of his brothers had righted the closet and fixed the door. When he pulled it open, he saw her shoe there—only one—like Cinderella’s left behind at the ball.
He sank to the chair and stared at the monitor. It was split into six squares, and Athena was visible in one. He watched her for a second before feeling like a voyeur. But Ben had also reminded him that they’d come to this boutique believing her part of the terrorist ring, and while Ben himself didn’t buy it, Athena was in contact with the people they were watching.
Dylan rubbed at the bite mark on his palm for a moment. The hours were quickly slipping by and she was not prepared to open Athena’s Creations.
He could walk into the showroom and speak to her or he could play with his new toys.
He pressed a button and spoke quietly into the mic hidden at the neck of his shirt. “Athena.”
“Jesus Christ!” Her cry echoed, and she whirled to glare at the nearest concealed camera.
Under any other circumstances, he’d get a thrill out of teasing her into a state of annoyance and then cajoling her right out of it.
And then out of her skirt.
“You can’t just speak to me out of nowhere like God or something. What do you want, Knight?”
A small thrill ran through him at her use of his last name. For some reason, the toughness in her voice combined with the throatiness sent his libido into overdrive.
“I think you should clean up and at least get some shoes on. Plus, there are those alterations for Landrenau to complete.”
She moved closer to the camera until he could see the angry lights flickering in her dark eyes. She raised both hands and flipped him a double bird.
Laughing now, he sat back and fiddled with some settings while she walked over to a bar and ripped a dress off it. She went into the dressing room and when she came out, he gaped at the screen. In color HD, it was as good a view as he’d get of her curves rocking a red dress. She stormed to the shoe wall she’d just spent over an hour working on and pulled down some heels.
While she slipped her feet into these, she bundled all her hair into a knot on the back of her head and took some accessories from a display to hold the mass.
What he wouldn’t give to pluck those slender sticks from her curls and let her silky hair fall into his hands.
Right before he captured her mouth.
And wedged his knee high against her pussy again.
Fucking hell, he wished his brothers hadn’t barged into the saf
e house and had let him finish jacking off.
Something onscreen caught his eye, and he tore his gaze from Athena to the square centered on the front door of the shop.
Shit.
He scooted to the edge of his seat and spoke to her via the intercom. “There’s someone coming to the door.”
She whirled to look. “I don’t open for another half hour.”
“Do you know this woman?”
“Yes, she’s a client.”
“The one who wanted the jeweled shoes?”
“No,” she said tersely.
He pressed another button to alert Roades, who was on standby in the alley behind the boutique, watching the exterior of the building.
Dylan spoke to Athena again. “Smile, act natural and let her in.”
For the next thirty minutes, he analyzed Athena’s every move, and she didn’t give a single indication that she was doing anything but selling pretty dresses to the woman. Something like relief snaked through Dylan. His instincts had only told him to take her with him, and he was certain it was to keep her safe, not keep her under house arrest.
After the client apologized for the third time for coming by the boutique so early because she was in a hurry to wrap up her errands, Athena checked the woman out and then saw her to the door.
That was where Roades came in. “Tail her,” Dylan commanded.
“With my ninja stealth.” Roades’ joke had Dylan snorting. They’d taken to calling their youngest team member Ninja after the motorcycle he rode.
Athena went to a tall closet and drew out another gown in a bag. She hung it on a hook and then got on her hands and knees, showing off her round backside in the red dress, and began to hem it.
He watched her for an hour before she got another customer. After that, the boutique flooded with people coming for their Mardi Gras clothing, and Athena was hopping. He could also see she was in her element—she loved this as much as he loved his job.
Except at times like this, he wished he wasn’t on the receiving end of her ire, that he was just a man and her a woman.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. One of his brothers. He picked up.
“It’s Roades. Dude, you fucking owe me one.”
