The Protected tfp-4

by Shiloh Walker

  “And isn’t that convenient?” He laughed a little, resting his free hand on her hip. His fingers flexed and she felt the imprint everywhere he touched. Every single place, from his thumb, to his little finger, curving over her flesh, kneading back and forth . . . “You give me a false number. A false name. So easy to fool me, you think?”

  As his mouth came to cover hers, she averted her head. Finally, her brain was engaging.

  Sex as a weapon. Not something she’d ever had directed at her, but whoa. Damn. That’s what this was and he was potent as hell. “You can look the damn number up on Google. I’m pretty sure I can’t control Google, although if I can get them to give me some major shares in the stock, hey, I’m game to try. You call that number, I’ll tell you how to get connected to the man who can vouch for me.”

  His knee pushed between her thighs, and this time, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep from shuddering. Couldn’t keep from whimpering as he drew her in until she was all but riding his thigh. Oh. Hell.

  “And what will he tell me when he vouches for you? What happens then? Somebody comes in here to take the child from me? I don’t think so, Vaughnne.”

  “Nobody wants to take him away,” she snapped. And then she curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him as he shifted and settled his hips squarely between her own. She felt him now. All of him, the ridge of his cock, hot and thick, and damn it, if he hadn’t been aroused, this would have been easier, so much easier.

  But sex as a weapon wasn’t really useful if the weapon wasn’t primed and ready to fire, she supposed.

  Summoning up what little strength she had, she closed her eyes. She went through her options and discarded all but a few. As she was busy with that, he shifted the forearm he had wedged across her upper body. Cooler air kissed her flesh and she hissed as she realized he had freed the top button of her shirt.

  No. Absolutely no.

  As he reached for the second one, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

  He stared right back at her.

  She didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, she had next to no leverage, and she’d rather not wake up Alex. The kid had already been through hell and was sick on top of everything else in his life.

  She didn’t really want to hurt Gus. Assuming she could. She might want to bloody him in that very second, but he was trying to protect the kid. She thought maybe she could understand that drive. Maybe.

  As pissed off as she was, she understood the basic need to protect.

  When he leaned in, she slid a hand around the back of his neck, careful to keep her expression blank. As he covered her mouth, she held herself still. And as he went to sweep his tongue across hers, she bit him. At the same time, she tangled a hand in his hair and jerked. He muffled his response, doing exactly what she’d expected—trying to avoid waking Alex, scaring him. He went to grab her and she jammed her fist into his throat. He had to breathe, right?

  Even as he was struggling to do that, though, he was already reaching for her. He was too well equipped for this, she thought. She evaded his hand and lashed out with one weapon he couldn’t prepare for. Blasting her voice into his mind, she watched as he stumbled and slammed a hand against his temple, caught off guard.

  She jerked the door open, taking advantage of the few precious seconds she had. The second she was out the door, she cut the scream off, pulling her weapon as she set her stance.

  He came for her, pausing only at the sight of her weapon. She held his gaze.

  “We’re not doing this, Casanova,” she said quietly. She licked her lips and hated the fact that she could still taste him. Her entire body throbbed, ached. Burned for him. And if he hadn’t been trying to pull . . . whatever he’d been pulling? She might have been just fine with letting him do anything he wanted to with her. Even with a kid sleeping a few feet away. They’d been in a bathroom, right? She knew how to be quiet.

  But he had been up to something and she wasn’t going to be used. Wasn’t going to have any man use sex against her. No matter what the goal was.

  “Nobody is going to hurt him,” she said as he edged out of the bathroom, moving closer and closer.

  She backed away. And still he kept coming. Eventually, she ran out of room and he stood there with his chest pressed to the muzzle of her Glock and no emotion on his face.

  “Nobody is going to hurt him. Nobody is going to take him. I’m here to help keep him safe,” she said.

  “Nobody can keep him safe,” Gus said, his voice a monotone. “You don’t even know what is after him.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t. Because you haven’t told me. But I do know that I work for the FBI, and if anybody stands a chance of protecting that kid, it’s the people I work for.”

  * * *

  “THE people you work for.” Gus stared at her. Stupid woman. She didn’t come off that way, but she had no idea what she was dealing with, when it came to protecting Alex. Up until the past few years, Gus hadn’t even had a clue. And he’d thought he had. Considering the life he lived, he should have been damned well aware.

  Holding her gaze with his, he reached up and went to grab her wrist. She spun away, but he’d already noticed the fact that she was determined to be quiet. Taking care not to bother Alex. Considerate . . . he had to appreciate that. Maybe she was being honest. But she was still naïve. Naïve, foolish . . . and she fit against him better than anything he could ever imagine outside of a wet dream. That strong, limber body had vibrated as he’d leaned into her, all but ready to kill her if it came down to it. But had she stared at him with fear?

  No. It had been desire he’d seen in her face. Maybe the fear had been there, but the desire had been stronger.

  Damn him straight to hell, but he wanted her. More than he wanted his next breath.

  “Crazy woman,” he whispered as she shifted to give herself more room to maneuver. He shot a look over her back, saw that Alex had rolled over onto his belly and had his face buried against the mattress. Concern warred inside him. It was a different sort of battle raging within him then. They had to move, had to run, had to hide and remake themselves all over again. But Alex was ill . . .

  “You know, I’m getting a little tired of this,” Vaughnne said. “Back off. Sit down. Chill out. We can talk.”

  “Better idea,” Gus suggested. “Get out of my way. I take my boy and we leave. You tell your . . . boss . . . that you lost us and everybody is happy.”

  “And when the people chasing you finally catch you?” She lifted a brow at him. “Don’t you get it, you big dumb idiot? Those men waiting outside your house tracked you down . . . by tracking him. You can’t hide him. He’s not trained, he’s hitting puberty, which means he’s going to get stronger. He’s a hazard to himself and everybody around him until he learns how to control that gift of his.”

  Something cold lodged in his heart. He wanted to brush it aside. She was wrong. She had to be. “We have done well enough for several years. They were lucky.”

  “No. They were smart. One of them was psychic, you jackass.” Her eyes narrowed on his face. “You don’t have any idea what to look for when it comes to people like us, do you?”

  Through his lashes, he studied her. “I don’t need to. The boy does.” Gus could feel it when their kind used their abilities, but no. He didn’t recognize them. It wasn’t an issue, though. Not with Alex. The boy could see them well enough. He always had before.

  “Again, he didn’t recognize me—if I can hide, what’s to stop somebody else from doing the same thing?” she said quietly. She glanced at her gun and then sighed. “I’m putting this away, but if you come at me again, you and me will go another round. But I’ll pull the gloves off this time.”

  There was something so sexy about the way she glared at him that he was tempted to do just that . . . go at her again. But he was already a raging, aching mess of want, and he suspected that if he kept putting his hands on her, his control was going to snap.
Masking everything he felt, he brushed by her and moved deeper into the room, pausing to linger by the bed. He reached down to touch Alex’s shoulder, intending to wake him up.

  “We can’t . . .” stay. The word was on the tip of his tongue. They couldn’t stay.

  Somehow, someway, he’d get the boy to a doctor, even if he had to kidnap one, but they couldn’t stay—

  Except Alex seemed even hotter now.

  So hot he nearly burned Gus’s hands.

  Closing his eyes, he went to his knees by the bed. Please . . .

  That was the only thought clear in his mind.

  Just . . . please . . .

  A hand touched his shoulder.

  Woodenly, he said, “The fever seems to be getting higher. I have no way to check.”

  “Let me call my boss,” Vaughnne said quietly. “You know he’s ill. He’s half out of his mind with his fever at this point. If you don’t get him help now, it could be too late by the time you do try.”

  The absolute last thing he could do was say yes.

  The absolute last thing.

  But then Alex groaned and rolled over onto his side, shuddering, shaking a little as he doubled over. “Tío . . .” he whispered, opening his eyes. But his gaze was glassy, and Gus had the oddest feeling the boy didn’t even see him.

  “I’m here, m’hijo,” he murmured, brushing Alex’s hair back from his face and fighting back the fear that crowded up his throat at the hot, dry feel of fevered flesh under his hand.

  “¿Mamá? ¿Dónde está mi mamá?”

  Gus closed his eyes while a howl built inside his throat. His mother. Son of a bitch—the boy was asking for a woman who had been dead for years. Stroking a hand across Alex’s brow, Gus said softly, “Get some rest, Alex.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  Alex blinked and then shook his head. “Tío . . .” When he looked at Gus again, there seemed to be a little more focus in his eyes. “I hurt. My back. My stomach.”

  “I know . . . I’ll get you a doctor, Ale . . . I’ll get you a doctor.” He caught himself just before the name slipped out, but he realized he’d already lapsed, calling the boy an endearment that just wasn’t one he should have used. Shoving his cap back, he rubbed his hand over his hair and then resettled it on his head before rising and meeting Vaughnne’s eyes. Nodding to the door, he waited until she had followed him, playing out the words he needed to say. Praying. Planning. Hoping.

  He hadn’t trusted anybody in years. Not since Alex’s mother had died. He didn’t want to change that now, but he had to get the boy help. The fever was bad enough, but if Alex was so sick that he was asking for his mother . . . he couldn’t wait any longer.

  Hearing the soft fall of Vaughnne’s footsteps behind him, he turned and studied her face. Her dark gold eyes met his and he stared at her, hard. He’d never guessed, he realized. Not once had he guessed that the sleek, sexy woman living across the street from him was FBI. He’d thought it was possible she might have been there to watch them. And he’d been prepared. Had even mentally gone through the steps he’d take to kill her and dispose of her body, if it came to that. He’d been prepared for the wrong sort of bad guy, he realized.

  Not the cops. Not the FBI. He hadn’t seen this coming.

  “How does the FBI know about us?” he asked quietly.

  Vaughnne inclined her head. “Now that’s a question you’d have to ask my boss. But I imagine one of the others picked up on something from the kid.”

  “Others?”

  She hooked her thumbs in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Oh, come on now, Gus . . . you’ve done some research on this, I’m sure. Psychic skill isn’t like homogenized milk. You’ve got a whole variety of flavors . . . abilities. Some of us see things . . . things from the past, bits and pieces of the future. Some of us can talk into another’s mind.” A faint grin curled her lips and he didn’t have time to brace himself before her voice, low and smooth and potent as whiskey, curled through his mind.

  And he realized he’d been wrong . . . yet again. He’d thought he’d feel it when a psychic was doing his thing because he always felt it from Alex. But he didn’t feel a thing from Vaughnne—he felt nothing, but he heard something . . . her voice, rolling through his mind, as low and sexy as if she’d been whispering naughty little nothings in his ear.

  That would be me, by the way, as you probably figured out, she told him. Then she shrugged. “There are others who have the ability to track missing people. We usually call them bloodhounds. Some key into . . . ghosts.”

  He curled his lip. “Ghosts.”

  “Yes.” She smirked at him. “Don’t tell me you believe in psychic skill, but not ghosts.”

  He shrugged dismissively. Ghosts weren’t real. That was all there was to it. If they weren’t real, then he didn’t have to think about the one ghost who should be haunting him, every day, for the rest of his life.

  “Well, that’s an answer.” She shoved her hair back and sighed. “And that’s neither here nor there. You’ve got a sick kid over there. Sick and getting sicker. Are you going to deal with it, or stand there and brood and worry and breathe your paranoia all over us until he needs to be hospitalized just to fix whatever is wrong with him?”

  Closing the distance between them, he bent down until he was nose to nose with her. Then, holding her defiant gaze with his, he said quietly, “There is nobody, and I mean this with every bit of strength I have in me, absolutely nobody who means as much to me as that boy. I can, and have, killed for him. I will do it again, without blinking. Am I understood?”

  “You’re quite understood.” Her eyes flashed. If they could have burned, he suspected he would have been singed all over.

  But that didn’t stop him from reaching up and catching one of her wild, soft curls and twining it around his finger. He half expected her to pull away. She simply stood there, though, as he rubbed his thumb along the thick, silken curl, holding his gaze levelly. “You can call your boss . . . Vaughnne. I want a doctor here. If there isn’t one here within the next few hours, I’ll take the boy and I’ll go find one.” If he had to kidnap one, that was just fine with him. “But understand me, nobody will take that boy from me. Not while I breathe.”

  He let go of her hair, watched as she swallowed. Then, as she went to turn away, he caught the back of her neck and hauled her against him. Show me that you’re afraid, damn it, he thought, staring down into those wide, dark eyes. Her lashes swept down low, shielding her gaze from his. If she would just be afraid, he could maybe throttle this painful need down. He would continue to scare her. He had no issue with using fear on anybody if it kept Alex safe. Alex was all that mattered, and in the end, when he had to pay for all the sins he’d committed just to keep that child safe, he would simply offer that up and hope it was enough. He’d been protecting the boy.

  But he couldn’t do this . . . couldn’t want this. Couldn’t want her.

  The fear he needed to see wasn’t there, though.

  She lifted her lashes and met his gaze, straight on. “I’ve already told you, and the promise stands. Nobody is going to hurt him, not if I have anything to say about it. And we don’t want him taken away. I was sent down here to watch over him. Not steal him from you.”

  “Hmmm.” He dipped his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth. The need to do more, to take more . . . take everything was so strong he could hardly stand it. If it wasn’t for Alex, wasn’t for the fact that the boy was ill, he’d be buried inside her already, Gus knew it. He bit her, still staring into her eyes, and he felt the shudder as it wracked her body. Stroking his tongue along the area he’d nipped, he resisted the urge to do more. Instead, he held there, his mouth pressed to hers. “So you say. But fuck me over on this, Vaughnne, and every nightmare you’ve ever had will look like a sweet memory by the time I am done with you.”

  TEN

  LISTENING to the police scanner, Esteban leaned back and crossed his hands over his belly.

 
He hadn’t expected anything to come of this. Still, he’d flown to Florida and checked into the Peabody, just in case. As an added bonus, he was away from the señor and it gave him some breathing room as he planned what to do next, where to go next.

  If the boy and his uncle were there, he had to take care of it personally. But he hadn’t expected anything to happen so soon.

  It had, and he hadn’t been there in time.

  Now the boy and his uncle were on the move, and the man he’d hired was in the hospital. So far, the señor hadn’t called and he hadn’t had to explain anything. That was good. He’d already bumped up the offer on the website, and another had accepted and was on the move.

  This could all be fixed.

  So simple. After all this time and all it had taken was that website.

  It was too bad the initial man he’d hired had been inept. He should have sent more than one. Esteban realized the error of his ways now. The second offer had come from a man who outlined a plan of attack that included working in teams. He had a partner he worked with and they’d both move in on the child and the reward would be split. A much smarter approach. The first one had just hired some muscle and that hadn’t been enough.

  He was paying for his lack of foresight now. In the hospital. The boy’s handiwork? Esteban didn’t know and he hadn’t been able to get much information out of the hospital. He’d claimed to be Watkins’s next of kin, but the nursing staff hadn’t given him anything useful.

  For a moment, he eyed the phone and then he shifted his attention to the police scanner. The other one was likely still sitting in a jail cell. Had he talked? Not that he could have said much. Watkins wouldn’t have told the muscle why he was needed. It was good, over all, that they hadn’t told him why his services had been required, and even better that he’d only been paid five hundred up front. Esteban had agreed to that added expense and he was glad it had been a minimal one.

  Whoever would have thought that such a pretty little man-whore would turn out to be such a pain in the ass?

  That was all he had ever been. He’d done a stint in the military, but it hadn’t lasted—they booted him out, after some disciplinary measures. Since then, he’d drifted through life, fucked his way into some money, and put that pretty face to use. He excelled at whoring around, gambling. He could hold his own in a fight, but he had no real use in life as a man. Esteban had done his research over the years. Eliminating this one man should never have been this complicated. Tracking him down should never have been this complicated.