Too Wilde to Tame (Wilde Security)

by Tonya Burrows

  She couldn’t let him do it.

  “Greer, are you really going to mu—” She stopped short. She had no idea if they were being monitored, but just in case, she chose the rest of her words carefully. “—do that thing you said you were going to do?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It’s wrong.”

  “And you’re the morality police, is that it?” He wrapped one huge hand around her arm and dragged her toward the door.

  “No, but I try to be a decent human being. Something you obviously struggle with.”

  He jerked her around and glared down. “I don’t need a moral compass. I need you to leave me the hell alone and forget everything you’ve seen here.”

  “Forget everything I’ve seen?” She snorted and glanced around her prison. “Four concrete walls and my guards, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. It’s not like I saw any national secrets.”

  He stared at her a beat, then turned away. “We’re leaving.”

  “We?” She followed him out the door and down a hallway as plain as her prison had been. Another soldier waited at the end of the corridor, and she experienced a flash of recognition. She’d seen him somewhere. At least, she thought so. Maybe? Greer pulled her by the man too fast to focus and place a name with his semi-familiar face.

  Greer pushed through another metal door and the late afternoon sun momentarily blinded her. She blinked against it. “You’re going with me?”

  “I’m making sure you go back to DC this time.” He nodded to the two soldiers huddled together at the front gate. Both gave her curious looks before one disappeared inside and the gate rattled open. Her car waited on the other side.

  Greer pulled open the passenger side door. “Get in.”

  “No.”

  He cast his gaze skyward as if asking a higher power for patience. “Natalie, I will pick you up and throw your hot little ass in this car if you don’t—”

  She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m totally on board with leaving this place, believe me. But I’m driving. Jesse said—”

  “Jesus. Christ,” he gritted out and slid into the seat himself.

  Satisfied, she circled the hood and climbed in behind the wheel. She’d just started the car when there was a tap on her window. One of the guards stood there. She rolled down the window.

  “Ma’am, your purse,” he said with a barely suppressed smile and handed it to her. There was something different in his tone now. Almost something like…respect?

  Weird.

  Then he saluted Greer and his smile broke into a grin. “Sergeant.”

  Greer saluted back, but he only used one finger. The guard laughed and backed away from the car.

  Oh, boy. Greer did not look happy. Of course, she’d never actually seen him happy. Did he even know the meaning of the word?

  She winced as she pulled the car out onto the road. “I’m sorry if I undermined your authority.”

  “Fuck that,” he muttered and stared straight ahead. “I don’t have any authority in that place.”

  “What…exactly is that place?”

  He gave her a desert-dry look. “You’re supposed to forget you ever saw it, remember?”

  “Right. Forgetting.” She switched on the radio to her station and recognized Jay’s voice. He was a nice guy, a college student who thought he wanted to get into DJ-ing and currently hosted a Saturday night jam session that featured local bands.

  Which meant her weekend was half over already. Where had it gone?

  She glanced over at Greer. Oh. Right. Her weekend had gone to taking care of her sick, grumpy neighbor.

  God, how did she get herself into these messes? And what exactly was she going to do about it now that she was in it?

  She couldn’t let Greer out of her sight, lest he commit murder, and she still had to track down her nephew and find out what the hell was going on. Just another exciting day in the life of Natalie Taggart.

  Not.

  She glanced over at Greer again. “So…now what? Are we going home?” She didn’t see how he could since he no longer had any furniture to speak of.

  “You are,” he said. “You’re to go straight back to your place after you drop me off in Alexandria.”

  “What’s in Alexandria?”

  “Just—” He raised his hands in front of him, closed them into fists like he wanted to strangle something, then dropped them back to his thighs and heaved out a breath. “Can you just drive and not talk? I’ll tell you where to go.”

  Natalie bit her lip. Yeah, it was probably better to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the drive. Frustration rolled off him in waves, and if she said the wrong thing, he might strangle her instead of air next time.

  After all, he had told her he planned to commit murder, and Jesse had said he was more than capable. And yet she just couldn’t picture it. Sure, he wasn’t the most pleasant person she’d ever met, but a murderer? It didn’t jibe. A man so bent on murder wouldn’t care to protect his brothers, and he certainly wouldn’t give two damns about her safety.

  She slid him a glance.

  Complicated. That was Greer Wilde in a nutshell, and she couldn’t help but want to figure him out.

  Chapter Seven

  Greer’s head pounded. Whether the headache was from his concussion or the frustrating woman sitting beside him was anyone’s guess, but he was inclined to think the latter. Natalie had a way of getting under his skin, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  But soon it wouldn’t matter. He’d had her turn off the highway, and they were approaching his old neighborhood, just a few blocks down from the house he’d grown up in. He’d stay in the old Colonial until he figured out what to do about his apartment—which had the added benefit of keeping him an entire city away from Natalie. If he stayed right across the hall from her, he might end up doing something he’d regret.

  “I know this neighborhood,” she said suddenly. He didn’t respond, and she rambled on. “My parents live in the next neighborhood over from here. It’s a nice place. Good schools, friendly people, next to no crime—well, my mom did mention there was an arson recently that had shaken everyone up, but I believe they caught the person who did it. Oh. There.” She pointed. “That must be the house—”

  Greer straightened in his seat. “Stop the car.”

  His heart clawed into his throat, and he shoved open the door almost before she had the car completely stopped. The old brick Colonial usually sat up on a small hill, tucked away from the road, but it was gone. So was the tree out front where his father had hung a tire swing. He used to climb that tree to get some peace from his younger brothers—or at least he had until Vaughn tried to follow once and broke his arm. Dad had nailed a “no climbing” sign to it after that.

  But the tree was gone.

  Everything was gone.

  Nothing left but a pile of ash.

  Oxygen stalled in his lungs, and he turned away, propped his hands on the hood of her car. He told himself to breathe. Told himself to fight down the icy surge of panic. Just breathe.

  He finally managed to pull in some oxygen and exhaled in hard pants. “Jesus.”

  Natalie touched his back. “Is this the house you were coming to?”

  “It was my parents’. All we had left of them.” His throat was so tight that forming words was painful. He faced her. “You said arson?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. That’s just from the local gossip…”

  He was starting to have trouble breathing again until her arms circled his waist, and she pressed her cheek against his back.

  “Oh, Greer. I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered.

  The hug anchored him and his lungs opened, filling with cool air. Having her touch him like this was…comforting. And he didn’t want it to be. He shrugged her off. “When did it happen?”

  She stepped back, hugged herself. “Uh…my mom told me about it sometime in January. I’m sorry I don’t know the exact day.”

  Rig
ht around the time he’d been sent to Syria. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  He grabbed the car door and yanked it open so hard the hinges protested. “Take me to a hotel.”

  Natalie didn’t move. “Which one?”

  “I don’t fucking care. Just pick one and I’ll stay there.”

  After another second, she walked around the car and got behind the wheel again. She was saying something, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat. He shut her out.

  Jesus. His childhood home was gone.

  What had losing it done to his brothers? What had it done to Reece? He’d spent tons of money on upkeep over the years and had been more attached to the house than any of them. Greer had expected Reece to move in with his wife Shelby. They’d settle in, raise their own family, and the place would be a home again.

  But the house was gone.

  Bruce was right. He should call his brothers, go see them. But…he just couldn’t bring himself to face them. Not after Syria. And definitely not after failing to take down their parents’ killer—though he planned to rectify that as soon as he was able.

  Thoughts racing too fast, emotions all kinds of jumbled up, Greer didn’t notice where Natalie had pointed the car until she pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex. “What the hell? I said take me to a hotel.”

  She shut off the engine and turned in her seat. “You’re staying with me.”

  “No.” A jolt of pure terror injected adrenaline into his system. Holy fuck, no. He couldn’t stay with her. The longer he was around her, the more he wanted to touch her. She was nothing but a distraction he didn’t need.

  “Yes,” she insisted. “I have a perfectly good couch, and we already know it’s big enough for you to sleep on. You can stay at my place and order new furniture for yours. That way, you’ll be right here when it arrives and can just move back across the hall.”

  “I don’t want new furniture.”

  She blew out a breath that lifted her sideswept bangs. “Okay, now you’re just being stubborn.”

  Yes, he could be stubborn. His father had often said it should have been his middle name. But this time, he was only being truthful. He didn’t want to buy new furniture because he wasn’t envisioning the kind of future for himself where he’d need it.

  “Besides,” she added, “you were extremely ill less than twenty-four hours ago. You shouldn’t be alone yet.”

  He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again without uttering a sound. He was just too damn tired to fight her on this. “I’ll stay tonight.”

  She smiled and opened her door. “It’s a start.”

  …

  Well, she’d convinced him to stay… but what did she do with him now?

  Once they were closed up together in her apartment, she hesitated. How exactly did you entertain a grumpy neighbor who had been shot and concussed, who was probably involved in black ops, and was the man your nephew recently threatened to kill?

  And when had her life gotten so complicated?

  She tossed her keys into the little dish on her kitchen counter. “Uh, are you hungry?”

  He grunted.

  She exhaled slowly to expel the surge of annoyance. Really, she shouldn’t be surprised. She hadn’t known him long, but she already knew grunting was so very much a Greer response.

  Screw it. The weekend was over, and she hadn’t taken any time to decompress. Tonight, she was going to follow through with her original plan for her days off and Netflix it. If Greer didn’t like it, he could entertain himself. He could feed himself, too. His comfort wasn’t her responsibility.

  She turned to tell him exactly that but stopped before opening her mouth. He was pale, the bruises on his bearded face standing out in stark relief. Only the force of his immense will held him upright.

  And, dammit, there was that tug to take care of him. A familiar sensation, one she’d dealt with her entire life. Raffi had always jokingly called her “Saint Tally” because she just couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain, either physical or emotional. At one time, she had spent so much energy taking care of the rest of the world, she often forgot about herself—a flaw she was very aware of and actively tried to counteract.

  But, God, she hated to see someone struggling and Greer obviously was.

  She softened a little. After all, he’d been shot, beaten, and had just discovered his family home was nothing but ashes. If anyone deserved a pass for being rude today, it was him.

  “Hey,” she said gently and waited until he met her gaze. “I was going to order a pizza and watch TV, but if you want to sleep, I can take my laptop into my room.”

  His implacable expression eased. “Pizza sounds good. I can contribute some cash.” He dropped his bag beside the couch and grabbed his wallet from his jeans pocket. Again she saw a flash of colorful bills that definitely weren’t American and curiosity got the better of her. She plucked one from his hand before he could stop her.

  “What kind of money is—” She froze and gazed up at him again. “What were you doing in Syria?”

  He scratched at his chin through his beard but didn’t appear angry like she thought he’d be. No, it was more an expression of resignation, maybe a hint of sorrow. He took the bill from her and replaced it in her hand with an American twenty. “Nothing you want to know about, angel.”

  A chill scraped down her spine. This was a very dangerous man, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was tempting fate by having him in her home. Even so, a not entirely unwanted spark of heat flared in her belly at the term of endearment.

  Angel.

  He’d called her that once before, but she’d thought it was the fever talking. And maybe it had been then, but this time it was a deliberate word choice and not the ramblings of a very ill man.

  Angel.

  Why would he call her that? Did it mean he was attracted to her? He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to go around calling women by sugary pet names, but he also didn’t seem to notice or care that he’d called her something that sounded…intimate. So maybe he was that type of guy. Or maybe—

  She was way overthinking this.

  She shook her head at herself. Okay, so he was hot. She’d remarked on that fact more than once to her friends since she moved in across the hall from him, and they’d poked fun at her because the sexy, broody, reclusive god of a man next door, whom she’d never even spoken to for more than a few sentences, always managed to rev her engine just by passing her on the stairs. Even now, as bruised and battered as he was, it was impossible not to notice the cut edge of his jaw or those piercing dark eyes or the hard-planed body that put even the hunkiest of A-list actors to shame.

  But she had to lock down her ridiculous physical response to him. He wasn’t attracted to her. Or if he was, he had more on his mind right now than sex. As he should.

  So why couldn’t she get her mind off doing the dirty with him?

  She realized she was standing there, staring at him with a twenty in her hand. “Uh, I’ll order that pizza. I’m a carnivore, so I usually get the meat lover’s. Is that okay?”

  He offered a tight smile. “A woman after my own heart.”

  Yeah, no. His heart was definitely not what she wanted. His body on the other hand…

  She spun away a bit too fast, made herself dizzy.

  Focus, Tally.

  She dug in her purse for her phone and placed the order with her favorite pizzeria, watching as Greer started pacing circles around her living room like a caged wildcat. She could almost hear the gears in his mind working overtime. There was so much going inside that head of his. She wished he’d open up a bit and at least tell her how he’d ended up bleeding and broken on her doorstep, but she had the feeling she’d need a crowbar to pry information out of him. Or better, the Jaws of Life.

  She set her cell phone aside, propped a hip against the kitchen island, and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched him pace for a few more minutes and finally decided it was time they had a
conversation. She needed a better grip on the situation so she’d know what to do about Andy. And right now, Greer was the only string she had to unravel the mystery of her wayward nephew.

  “I know you weren’t mugged,” she said, and he stopped moving like he’d hit a brick wall.

  “Yeah, I was.” He dragged both hands through his overgrown hair and winced. “I was jumped by a bunch of kids outside a bar. I was already injured, and they got the better of me.”

  Dread coiled around her insides. Had Andy really…? But why? It didn’t make sense. “There has to be more to it than that. What did they want?”

  “Fuck if I know. My wallet?”

  Oh, he knew. She didn’t exactly see the knowledge written in his expression because the man had a poker face to beat all poker faces, but something about his sarcasm told her he was evading. “They didn’t take it, though,” she pointed out.

  “Jesus,” he muttered and finally spun to face her. “I think they were paid, all right?”

  “Paid?”

  “By the man I plan to kill.”

  Another scrape of dread down her spine. She dropped her arms and stepped toward him. “You’re not going to kill anyone, Greer.” Not if she could help it. And especially not if the person in his line of fire was her nephew.

  The look he gave her was so dark, so unemotional, she stopped before touching him. He was hurting, and not only because his body had taken a beating. He was emotionally wounded and, dammit, she wanted to help. Someone had to or this man was going to self-destruct. She could all but see the bomb ticking down to zero in his eyes.

  “It won’t help,” she added in a whisper. “I know you think it will slay whatever demons you’re struggling with, but spilling blood will only feed them.”

  He held her gaze for a moment before looking away and staring down at his hands like he’d never seen them before. “What the fuck do you know about spilling blood?”

  She couldn’t just stand there when he so obviously needed some kind of comfort. She closed the remaining distance between them and folded both of her hands around one of his. “I know it has never, in the history of mankind, solved any problems.”