Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5)

by Sidney Bristol

  She sighed and turned away from him, already half-asleep.

  He still didn’t know who she was, or why, as far as the government was concerned, she hadn’t existed before a few years ago. According to their research, Fiona should be near thirty-five. If she was much older than thirty he’d eat his boots. What he did know was that she was a woman. A woman who’d been looked through and left empty. For a moment he’d pitied her, and then he’d realized his mistake. She’d picked him the same way he’d picked her, only…he wasn’t coming out of this unscathed. He was a dirty bastard for taking advantage of her like this, but when it came down to it, it was dozens of families versus her. And family would win over every time.

  Marco snagged his boxer briefs from the floor and stepped into them, pulling them up as he tip-toed out of her room. He’d left his phone and wallet in the living room on purpose. For exactly this reason.

  He eased the bedroom door shut and crossed to the coffee table.

  Out of habit he checked the messages, but nothing urgent caught his eye.

  Now, where was her work shit?

  He crept through the condo, up to the second floor before he found her office in what he imagined was supposed to be the master suite. And yet she chose to sleep on the ground floor. Why?

  More mysteries he wouldn’t get to the bottom of, because he couldn’t risk getting more involved than he already was.

  Marco dragged his finger across the touchpad and the screen lit up. It wasn’t even locked. Shit. Part of him had hoped for super security, an impossible-to-crack password or something. It was too easy. All of it.

  He pulled the mini-USB from the depths of his wallet. He held it between his fingers, staring at the little thing.

  It had one purpose. One goal. And he had no doubt Ghost’s toy would work as promised. In the process, Fiona would pay the price for his actions.

  He blew out a breath and plugged the USB into the laptop, then double-clicked the folder that popped up. The spyware would have to be installed, and then it could run invisibly in the background, infecting the entire company and funneling all that data to him.

  Setting up the spyware took a matter of seconds. He hadn’t needed to fuck Fiona to do this. He could have done it another way, but he’d taken the path of least resistance. He’d have to live with the guilt.

  Marco turned, searching for the waste basket. It was shoved under the desk, way in the back. He pulled it out and frowned at the framed photograph.

  It was Fiona making a funny face at the camera next to a guy that had to have at least eight or ten years on her. He was serious, stern—boring.

  This must be Scott.

  Marco couldn’t see the appeal, but then again, he was a pussy addict, so what did he know?

  Fiona’s sad eyes filled his mind. Before she’d known his name, she’d shared this much of herself with him. That she was lonely. And then they’d touched. Kissed. Fucked. He hadn’t had a lay this good in…a while.

  Marco might be an ass, but he didn’t have to be the kind of ass that left in the middle of the night.

  He pushed the waste basket back into place and shoved the USB into his wallet. There wasn’t enough trash there to disguise disposing of it anyway.

  A few moments later he slipped back into Fiona’s bedroom. She was curled up on her side, and damn him if he didn’t want to wrap himself around her.

  It was the guilt talking. Driving him to do this.

  In a week or two, she’d curse his name, but for tonight he’d hold her.

  Fiona set the kettle on the stove, its gleaming surface reflecting her face back at her in a distorted manner.

  Such a normal morning activity.

  Making tea.

  Having breakfast.

  She glanced at the bedroom door and swallowed, parts of her body tingling.

  Okay, it wasn’t every morning she woke up with a mountain of a man snoring in her bed. She’d practically had to wiggle out from under him before her bladder burst.

  Now what?

  Going back in there felt…creepy. There wasn’t the remotest chance she’d fall back asleep, not with her body remembering his touch, the way he’d…they’d…

  Her words failed her, but her body remembered all too well what he’d done. How she’d felt.

  Calling it “sex” wasn’t right. It wasn’t a primal enough word.

  “Fucking” was more appropriate, but she shied away from that word, because it wasn’t right either.

  She stared at the burner, watching the coil turn red, the heat rising. She put a hand to her throat. Was it the stove, or the memory of last night making things warm?

  Last night…she’d felt alive. For the first time in ages, she remembered herself. Not this careful, frightened creature she’d become out of necessity. Was it the way Marco touched her? Saw her? Or was she finally tired of these shackles?

  Ten years.

  Ten long years, and no one had found her.

  She kept tabs and got updates through the U.S. Marshalls from time to time when one of the core ring from back then was released, when they were back in trouble. But never any word on him.

  n0v4bl4ck.

  Fiona swallowed, her vision going a little unfocused.

  Of all of the inner ring to let slip through the cracks, Nova was the worst. He’d been the leader. The one with all the strings and all the shit to sling. If she ever popped her head back into that world, he’d…

  Her throat closed up.

  She was pretty sure death would be a cake walk compared to the hell Nova would unleash on her. A good hacker could cut a person down to nothing and never once lay a hand on them. There were things worse than death out there, and she’d gotten a glimpse of that ten years ago. Now? Chances were Nova could do more. Worse. And that was enough to remind her why security was such a big thing. The U.S. Marshalls had felt Nova’s threat was real enough they’d uprooted her life, changed everything about her—four times—until she’d wound up here. In Denver.

  Was her safety worth a little freedom? Could she live the next ten years boxed up like this?

  The front door rattled. Several loud bangs startled her from her thoughts.

  Who the—?

  “Fiona, open up.” The voice was muffled, but she knew it.

  Scott.

  What the hell?

  She tip toed to the door and activated the door cam.

  There he was. In his designer, perfect glory.

  What an asshole.

  She pressed the speaker button. “Go away, Scott.”

  “Open the door, Fiona.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I want my shit back.”

  “I put everything in the box I gave you last week.”

  “Open the door. We can talk about this.”

  His irritation was new.

  Usually, Scott was so put-together and poised that she hardly got any vibe from him at all. In fact, she was pretty sure the only reason they’d ever pretended their relationship was working was because she didn’t want to be alone. She wasn’t even sure why he’d picked her anymore. Her life now was one empty, bad relationship after the other. It wasn’t even that Scott had left her that hurt. It was that he’d called her boring. Once, back when she was a different person, no one would have put that word in the same sentence with her. Now…she was boring. Boring and safe.

  “Fiona?” Scott’s voice brought her back to the moment.

  The ear-splitting whistle of the tea kettle added yet more noise.

  “Leave, Scott.”

  She turned and strode into the kitchen.

  Talk about timing. Any moment now, Marco would wake up and make his exit. Maybe she could convince him to wait for Scott to leave so there was less chance of an altercation. She’d rather avoid it altogether if possible.

  “Fiona!” The front door held against his heavy-handed pounding.

  She was only a little bit comforted by the knowledge she’d had the doors reinfo
rced and installed kick plates. It would take a SWAT team several minutes to break through there if they ever had to, and that would take a door ram.

  There was no way Scott could get through that door.

  It didn’t stop her hands from shaking as she took the kettle off the stove.

  “Fiona!”

  Marco sat up, not quite awake.

  What was that sound? He didn’t like it.

  He pushed the soft, gray comforter off and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  Fiona.

  Right.

  He’d stayed, and he wasn’t sorry about that. The rest…his conscience would have to deal with it.

  “Fiona!” someone bellowed, pounding on the front door.

  Marco pushed to his feet and strode into the living room. Fiona stood in the kitchen, her hands over her face, shoulders hunched as if she expected someone to…

  Hell. No. Fucking. Never.

  “Who is that?” He pointed at the door, his feet slapping on the hardwood, his vision hazing red.

  “No one.” Fiona’s eyes snapped open and she straightened, the momentary glimpse of the woman behind all the secrets gone.

  “Who the hell is he?” Marco frowned at the door display. He’d seen it last night, but hadn’t paid attention to it. Now he could see the man on the other side clear as day. Who the hell needed a security system this fancy? Unless they were scared. Of who?

  “Just—It’s Scott.” Fiona followed him to the entry, but she didn’t come within a dozen feet of the door. “Ignore him. He’ll go away.”

  “Fiona, open the Goddamn door, you bitch!”

  “Scott who called you boring, Scott?” The same prick in that picture she’d tossed. If Scott’s only crime was being a dick during a break-up, he’d be on par with every other guy. But the fear he’d seen on Fiona was another thing entirely. A guy who scared her that badly was scum.

  “Please, he’ll go away.” Fiona’s hands were clasped together so tight her knuckles were white.

  “Fiona!”

  “Someone hit you. Was it him?” Marco pointed at the display.

  “What?” Her eyes went wide. “No, Scott never hit me.”

  “Open the fucking door!” The pounding was harder. Lower.

  Marco glanced back at the screen.

  Scott kicked the door.

  And it didn’t so much as budge. It shook a bit, but not like a normal door.

  Reinforced?

  Seriously? Was she expecting an army to burst in here?

  “Fuck this.” Marco twisted the locks and jerked the door open.

  “No, Marco!”

  He took one step over the threshold.

  The man on the other side of the door froze, his eyes wide, right arm pulled back as though he were about to swing at the door again.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Scott stared, wide eyed. It was probably the most expression the man’s face had seen in a decade.

  “Get lost or I’m calling the damn cops.”

  “You’re her new piece, huh?” Scott leaned to the side, trying to get a look around Marco. “You should know she’s a slut. She’ll fuck anything that moves.”

  Marco grabbed the front of Scott’s button-down shirt before he could think better of it and hauled the asshole closer. Marco’s better sense screamed at him. Scott was a dick, but if Marco beat his ass, it would be Marco the cops wanted.

  “Leave,” Marco said. Growled was more like it.

  He let go of Scott and took a step back.

  Distance.

  He needed to not lose his cool. The whole gig had him amped up, and Scott was merely a lazy opportunity to blow off some steam.

  Scott stumbled, his eyes wide.

  His face morphed, twisting, eyes narrowing. He braced his weight on his right foot and swung. It only took a second, but this asshole had just made the wrong fucking move.

  Marco couldn’t throw the first punch, but if this guy wanted to duke it out, he was more than willing to wipe the sidewalk with his ass.

  Scott’s fist sailed through the air. Marco side-stepped, wrapped his hand around the guy’s wrist and jerked forward. He raised his knee, driving it into Scott’s stomach and delivered a hard right hook to the dick-for-brain’s jaw. Marco let go and Scott stumbled back, lost his footing and went staggering down the three steps to the sidewalk before gravity won over and he landed on his ass.

  “You come back here again, I’m going to shove my foot up your ass so far you’ll taste it. Got it?” Marco stared at Scott for a moment longer, turned, and slammed the door. He twisted the locks, probably too hard, but he had to take that frustration out on something, and unless Fiona was hiding a punching bag around here, the locks were it.

  Fiona stood where he’d last seen her, eyes wide, hands clutched to her chest.

  Shit.

  And now she was looking at him like he was going to snap her in two.

  “Your water’s getting cold.” He curled and uncurled his fingers.

  “You…you’re still in your underwear.”

  He glanced down. Yup.

  A civil man would…say something.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You don’t sound sorry.” Fiona regarded him warily.

  “It’s what I’m supposed to say, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

  “Fuck, what am I supposed to say? You’re looking at me like you think I’m about to…” He couldn’t even say it. “What did he do to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re white and shaking.”

  “I’m always white.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  “Scott didn’t do anything to me. He was an ass, but he didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why do you have a reinforced door and kick plates?” He’d noticed that feature on his way in.

  “I like being safe.”

  “Fiona. I…” I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.

  Only he was what was wrong.

  Marco should leave. He should get his shit and split, because very soon she’d know what he did. Or maybe he’d get lucky and she’d assume it was Scott. That was a long shot. A real long shot, and not something he should plan on.

  Normal, single women didn’t have reinforced doors, high-tech security, and an automatic flinch response without a reason.

  Fuck, what had he done?

  What had they missed?

  “I got scared, okay?” Fiona glanced away.

  He’d been staring. He couldn’t do anything right.

  “Scared of what? Scott?”

  “Yes. No. Nothing.” She turned, disappearing around the corner into the kitchen.

  Marco followed, because it was the only thing he could do. He stopped at the bar and watched her put the kettle back on. Silence had worked last time. Maybe it’d work again.

  “Scott… Things started off…good. We met at a work thing. He was confident. Most people, they just talk over me. I’m the boss’ admin. They don’t really see me. And Scott was…he was what I thought I wanted.” The miserable, crestfallen look on her face said otherwise. “Scott almost got me fired a couple weeks ago.”

  “What? How’d he do that?”

  “He… I don’t know. I brought work home because I had this cold that kept going around the office and it wouldn’t go away. So I got sent home, but there was so much work to do I brought it here. And some files just…disappeared. I…don’t know that it was Scott…but…”

  “Your gut says it’s him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it’s him.”

  “But…I don’t know for sure, but…”

  “But?”

  “But I’d open my work laptop and there would be emails read. Emails I hadn’t seen…”

  “I’ve found that women’s intuition is rarely wrong.” So why weren’t her warning bells going off about him yet? They should be.

  “Shit.�
� Fiona moved the kettle to the red burner and shook her head.

  “Move. Sit.” Marco ushered her around to the stools at the bar, then turned to the refrigerator to see what was on hand. “Start at the beginning. Where did you meet Scott? What was going on?” And who the fuck had laid a finger on her?

  He should go.

  But he wasn’t.

  No, he was going to make her an omelet and then figure out how to bury Scott. And after that, he’d get Ghost to put a stop to this mess. Whatever Fiona had survived, he wouldn’t put her through hell again.

  5.

  “ We were at a Denver business summit. It’s a lot of people in suits posturing, networking, trying to seem like they’re better than everyone else.” Fiona wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the counter top. “My boss likes for me to go so he can schmooze and not have to remember the important things. I follow him around and write it down.”

  She might as well be invisible at those awful meetings.

  But then Scott had seen her.

  She’d thought he was different. She thought every guy she fell for was different. The secret was, they were all the same.

  Marco didn’t seem so bad. A lot rougher around the edges, but maybe that’s what she needed. Someone different.

  He’d found her skillet, some eggs, the few withered veggies in her fridge, and some sliced ham. She couldn’t imagine eating right now, but she wouldn’t begrudge him a meal after his heroic display. It was the kind of thing a modern day Prince Charming might do. Protecting her. Taking care of her.

  “My boss had to go into this closed-door meeting, so I was left on my own. It was cocktail hour, so I got a drink and was looking for a wall to hold up. The summits aren’t complete without some married CEO trying to hook up for a night.” She shivered, recalling one too many wandering hands. “Scott bumped into me, and he just pulled me into his conversation. He’s not funny, but…he’s… It’s the way he talks to people. He makes you listen. I remember standing there with these strangers, Scott talking, and…I liked him.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes.

  God, she sounded like an idiot, but there was no stopping her now.

  “We traded numbers. Went out a few times. I fell hard and fast for him, because that’s who I am.” She glanced up at Marco. He was supposed to be gone already. If he wasn’t careful, she’d fall for him, too. Because that was what she did. She fell in love with men, sometimes men who couldn’t or wouldn’t love her back. If she was lucky, they usually liked her, but it never lasted. And it didn’t change how she loved. She was a serial monogamist with the scars to prove her loyalty. She never learned her lesson.