by Celia Kyle
Declan rested his cheek on top of her head. “Every time you healed, you’d twist and hurt yourself again.”
Abby nodded. “And I was so weak that—”
“You were eight. The fact that you survived…” He sighed. “I’m going to find them.”
“It doesn’t—”
“It does,” he snarled, but his hold remained soft and gentle. Then he withdrew, hands releasing her and arms slipping away while his warmth vanished. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, “okay.” She took one step and then two, fighting her body to put distance between them. Her cougar wanted to turn and rub all over him, but…but her human mind needed space.
She crawled into bed, wiggling beneath the covers and claiming one of the pillows. On the other side, Declan did the same, settling into place with a deep sigh. Silence descended then, the sound of their breathing the only thing that broke the quiet.
Until Declan grunted and moved. In a whirl of sheets and flex of muscle Abby found herself plastered to his side. Their bodies aligned, her curves molding to his hard frame. His arms were like steel bands, hands putting her in place before he held her immobile. He pressed her ear to his chest, arm curled around her shoulders. He rubbed her shoulder, fingers dancing over her side. He traveled up and down the length of her back, shoulder to hip.
“I’m going to kill them, Abby.”
Part of her wanted that. She wanted them hunted and punished for what they’d done to her life, but she didn’t want that blood on her hands. “I know what you want to do, but—”
“Will do.”
“But can you hurt them for doing the same thing you’ve done countless times?”
He flinched, just the tiniest twitch, before he answered. “One, I know how to count. It’s not countless. Two”—he nudged her, forcing her to tip her head back and meet his stare—“never women. Never children. I told you that already. I’m not a good man, but I have limits.” He lifted his free hand, callused fingertips tracing the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw, and on to her lips. “I’ll tell you something else. I haven’t taken a contract in two years. Not since I joined Shifter Operations Command. I’ve done things I regret, but that isn’t who I am anymore.”
“Then who are you?”
“The wolf who isn’t going to let anything—anyone—hurt you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Declan didn’t sleep. The shit-storm had begun around eight thirty and now the clock was ticking past midnight. His mind remained alert, wolf constantly listening for intruders while his human thoughts focused on the woman in his arms—Abby.
Abby who’d been through hell—and not just what had occurred in the last few hours. Reading her file had given him bare-bones details. Seeing her back…It stabbed him with the truth and damned if it didn’t hurt. What the fuck?
It explained her anger, though—the scent of her emotional agony that’d assaulted him with every question about his past.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d assured her he didn’t touch women and children. Not after what he’d seen.
Abby sighed in her sleep and rubbed her cheek on his chest. She nuzzled him, her lush body sliding against his, and he cursed the clothing that separated them. Oh, he knew it was necessary—her naked body was too damned tempting—but he hated its presence.
Damn, then she went and moaned and wiggled her hips and like that he was harder than nails. He rubbed his free hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. She’d kill him if she kept it up. All those curves, her fresh scent and sweet little sounds.
His wolf nudged him, urging him to explore the pretty little cougar, but he shoved the animal away. They hadn’t saved her to fuck her. They’d saved her…Shit, he wasn’t sure why anymore. He only knew he’d been driven to shield her from harm and wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.
Abby took a deep breath and released it with a soft sigh, but this time she didn’t settle back into sleep. She moaned—she really needed to stop—and tensed.
“Declan?”
“Go back to sleep, Abby.” His wolf lined each word with a growl.
She stiffened and edged away, as if she wanted to move out of his embrace. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crawl all over you. I…”
He tightened his hold, not letting her budge. She drove him crazy with her closeness, but he couldn’t let her go. “Don’t be sorry.” He wasn’t gonna tell her how much he liked having her in his arms. “Just sleep. You can rest for a while yet. We won’t leave until tonight.”
“How long have we been here?” she whispered, and even that aroused him.
He was such a twisted fuck. “Not too long. Not long enough.”
She fell silent for a moment, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He could practically hear her thinking. “What happens next?”
Declan grunted. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?” Abby shook her head, and he figured he’d have to content himself with the short time he’d held her. “Eat. Coffee. Plan our next move.” Then the one after that and then the one after that. So much bullshit. He turned his gaze to her and tried to ignore her sleep-tousled hair and bedroom eyes. “You don’t deserve this. Any of it.”
“It’s my own fault in a way.” She grinned, even though she didn’t have much to smile about. “Curiosity killed the cat, right? I’m too curious for my own good. I found a loose thread and pulled. When it all unraveled…”
“Curiosity isn’t killing this cat. You’re not gonna die.” He snarled.
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“The fuck I can’t.” His pulse increased, the wolf’s anger surging with the mere thought of something happening to Abby. “I didn’t turn rogue just to lose you. It won’t happen.”
“Taking me out of there branded you a rogue?” She shuddered.
“According to SHOC—the director.” He shrugged. The director was an asshole. “I’d do it again though.”
“Why? I’m nobody.”
He snorted. “You’re Abby Carter. Survivor. Smart as hell. Hard worker. Determined. Stupid because you jumped off that pier.” He pressed his lips to her temple, reminding himself that she’d lived through that dumb stunt. “Brave because you jumped off that pier.”
“I don’t feel very brave.”
He shook his head. “I’ve met cowards.” Killed more than a few. “You’re not one.”
“I ran.”
“After you knocked one of the humans out with a calculator.” He grinned. She’d been a fierce little she-cat. “Then you grabbed that tablet and bolted. You gonna tell me what’s on there now? Maybe where it’s hidden?”
She tensed, and he wondered if she’d trust him enough to tell him. He could guess, but he’d rather get the truth from her.
“I was auditing FosCo.” She turned in his embrace, moving to her stomach and propping herself on her elbows. “I logged into one of their bank accounts and discovered they’re funding Unified Humanity.”
“That’s why Eric Foster showed up with those other men.” She nodded even though he hadn’t asked a question.
“I didn’t realize he got notifications when certain accounts were accessed. I don’t know how he knew I was a shifter, but he did. He said it took only one phone call.” A tremble shook her. “Before he got there, I downloaded every screenshot and record I could find. I figured I’d hand it over to the council. Let them see if they could piece things together and find anyone else—any other companies—that are connected to Unified Humanity.”
“See?” He grinned and twined an errant lock of her hair around one finger. “I told you. Brave.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll agree to disagree.”
“Uh-huh.” He tucked the strands behind her ear.
“How did you know I needed help?”
Declan winced. “The team’s on assignment. We were ordered to observe and see if there was any connection between FosCo and Unified Humanity.”
“There is.
I have the proof.”
“And we have audio recordings and video of Eric’s attack.” He paused and figured he’d tell her the rest. “We’ve been watching the building for almost a week. Twenty-four hours a day.”
Abby groaned and turned her head, hiding her face against his biceps. Her cheeks heated, her warmth transferring to his arm. “Oh God. You saw me…”
Declan chuckled, recalling the sway of her hips and her little shimmy. “Yeah, we did. I watched you shake your ass every night. I watched you work all day, too.”
“That’s a little creepy.”
He just shrugged. Probably. “You should get some more sleep if you can. I’m not sure how much you’ll get over the next few days. With luck, we can get your tablet and wrap this up quickly, but I doubt it.”
She shook her head. “I can’t sleep anymore.”
Which meant he had to let her go. His wolf whined and grumbled, not wanting to release her just yet. He reminded the animal she’d probably think that was creepy, too. The animal reminded him that creepy or not, she’d still be in their arms.
Ignoring the beast, he lifted the blankets and rolled away from Abby before the wolf won their battle of wills. “Let’s get up, then. The quicker we get this done, the quicker you can go back to your life.” He didn’t look at her as he strode to the bathroom. If he did, he’d pounce. “Give me a second and then the room’s all yours.”
“I thought you weren’t going to let me out of your sight?”
Yeah, that was what he’d said. But that was before she’d slept in his arms and been all sensual and sweet as she woke.
He paused in the doorway, one foot on the cold tile. The chill chased away some of his need for her, but not nearly enough. “I’ll just be gathering supplies in the living room.”
It’d let him put space between them—physical, but more importantly, emotional.
He was in and out of the bathroom in moments, striding across the bedroom and out the door without a word. His wolf remained focused on Abby—the sounds of her moving around his home—while his human half moved on autopilot. He had preparations to make, supplies to gather.
Declan strode to the entertainment center and tapped on drawers and doors. They opened on silent hinges and quiet drawer rails. Overhead lights illuminated each tray, the light glinting off his babies. Hand guns. Rifles. Knives.
He ran his fingers over the array of deadly metal, stopping when he reached a nine-millimeter handgun. He wrapped his fingers around the grip and lifted it from the tray, adjusting to the weight. He released the magazine and counted the bullets before he pushed it back into place.
The soft rustle of clothes drew his attention, and he looked to his right. Abby stood nearby, gaze trained on his hands—the gun—before she turned her stare to the others, and he couldn’t miss the question in those eyes.
How many people had he killed with these guns?
“None.” He didn’t look at her, choosing instead to concentrate on his task. He returned the nine-millimeter to its home and moved on to the next handgun. “I haven’t killed anyone with these. Practice only so I knew how they shoot, but that’s it.”
“How…?”
Abby’s voice stroked him, and his body reacted. A reminder that he needed to put space between them.
Declan smirked. “Baby,” he murmured. Condescending. Cocky. Asshole. “You wanna talk about my longest shot or how hard I can make you come?”
“Neither.” She licked her lips, wetting her mouth. “What’s the plan today?”
“Coward.” He sniggered.
And I’m an asshole.
“Are we taking all of those with us? Do we need them all?”
“Tell me something.” He turned his head and met Abby’s stare. She kept her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows in question. “After having guns pointed at you, getting shot, jumping off a pier to hide something in the fucking sea so it won’t be found, and being picked up by SHOC. When I get your ass outta there, the rest of my team is drooling over the idea of catching you and you know we’re still being hunted. Now, all that”—he whirled his finger in the air—“and you ask me if we need all these guns?”
Abby’s eye flashed, cougar now staring out. “Fuck you very much.”
He grinned. Damn but he liked that fire. “Well, baby, if you want it that bad—”
“Enough.” She snarled at him, even going so far as to bare a fang at him. “You’re having a lot of fun at my expense. It was a stupid question—I get it—but you don’t have to be an asshole just because you have one.”
“You’re gonna be okay.” Declan released a low chuckle. “If I can keep you alive.” He sighed. “Speaking of…You’re going to walk me through what happened—what you did—again. You’re not gonna stop until I’m ready to slit your throat if I hear your voice again and then you’ll say it once more.”
Abby jerked back, his words piercing her as if they were bullets—sharp, hard, unavoidable. “Okay.”
He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Just tired.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “‘Knowledge is Power’ isn’t some motivational poster. It’s the truth. In my line of work, knowledge is life. I’ve known a lot of people who died because of ignorance. Not gonna have you be one of ’em.”
Chapter Sixteen
Abby blindly stared out at Declan’s backyard—one he’d turned into a lush oasis. Also known as a space with enough trees and foliage to make the area as private as possible without turning into a wild jungle. Because a wild jungle would result in notices from the HOA. Abby knew all about HOA notices, though hers were usually noise complaints because someone’s cat liked snarling at seagulls at two in the morning.
And the cougar never apologized. Never.
New sounds within the home drew her attention. Ones that were different from the click and clack of Declan’s fingers on a keyboard or the scrape of metal as he disassembled and reassembled one of his guns again. She’d been listening to that for what seemed like forever while he made sure they had what they needed to survive.
Knowledge was power, all right. But guns were power, too.
The slam of wood on wood—cupboard banging closed—was followed by the gurgle of running water. Then glass clicking against…stone? Declan was in the kitchen, then. She wondered how long it’d take him to hunt her down again. It’d been a while since that steak, and her stomach grumbled—empty.
With a sigh, Abby turned on the window seat and swung her legs over the edge. She straightened her back and tilted her head from side to side, then twisted at the waist and stretched her arms over her head. No tenderness or pain that would slow her down. Every hint of her wounds and exhaustion now gone after some good sleep and food.
The cougar purred, and Abby mentally stroked her inner feline, praising the she-cat for a healing job well done. It spun and flicked its tail, a hint of cockiness easing through her mind. Yeah, the cat had done good, but could it get her through what was to come?
The beast sniffed and then hissed, offended that Abby even had to ask. She ignored her inner animal and pushed to her feet, taking a moment for one last stretch before she sought out Declan with her gaze.
Declan…She practically purred his name. Muscular. Sexy. Tempting. Declan.
Declan who wasn’t in sight. He’d claimed he wouldn’t let her leave him, but maybe it was okay if he was doing the leaving?
She padded across the floor—away from the window seat tucked into the dining area—and toward the center of the great room. Her feet sank into soft carpet. It was a sumptuous temptation her cat had difficulty resisting. It wanted to shift and roll around on the cushioned surface, coat it in her scent so other females would know Declan was taken.
Abby thumped the cat on its nose. No time. Plus, he wasn’t taken.
The animal disagreed. It definitely wanted to take Declan.
“Hungry?” Declan spoke from her right, and she drifted in that direction. He stood on the other side
of the bar, empty glass resting on the counter. “You need to keep up your strength before we play the rest of this game.”
“Yeah. I could eat.” She nodded and headed in his direction. “But you don’t have to make me anything. I can…” Amber eyes met hers, the wolf giving her a glare that had her voice trailing off. “Or not.”
Declan grunted and pushed away from the counter, his movements fluid and easy. A grace she normally attributed to a cat, but he was all wolf. All dominance, aggression, and possessiveness.
Well, if he wasn’t going to let her cook for herself, she could at least enjoy the view. His worn jeans—frayed at the hems and other areas whitened—hung low enough to expose the V on his hips. She let her gaze wander over his chest, caress each of those thickly carved muscles and honed body with her eyes. His stomach was flat, ridges of his abs exposed and begging for her touch—her mouth? She let her attention drift farther up his body, to his strong pecs and broad shoulders. Then to his thick biceps. Arms that had cradled her close when he’d rescued her.
He put on a show just for her. There was nothing sexier than a man—half naked and sexy as hell—in the kitchen. He opened an upper cabinet and grabbed a pan, stretching to reach the handle. The move made his jeans drop just a hint, exposing more of those muscles she wanted to lick and nibble.
Her center clenched, clit throbbing with a surge of desire, and she bit her lip to keep her whimper in check. Then…then he made it so much worse—better? He set the pan on the stove and went to the fridge, tugging on the door so it swung open. It gave her a clear view of his back, of the play of muscles while he moved, the way they slid beneath his skin. That was when he made it all worse. He leaned down to peer into the space, attention firmly on the fridge’s interior.
Meanwhile, her attention was firmly on his ass. She wanted to bite and nibble him there, too. Okay, she wanted him everywhere, all of him. Oh, she wouldn’t destroy herself in that way—Declan was dangerous, heartless—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ogle. A lot.
