by Lauren Smith
Royce would never forget the moment he’d run in after that man had started spraying metal death along his kitchen wall. Knowing he’d been the one to tell Kenzie to hide there. It would be his fault if she was hurt. His fault if she was killed.
But the door swung open and there she was, alive and safe on the floor. Her eyes had been wide with terror. It’d taken every bit of his training to resist the urge to run to her, not while the third man was still a threat in the room.
He had dealt with that piece of shit and now had Kenzie in his arms. Safe—for now. But how long would she really be safe while she was around him?
Everyone I love gets hurt. It was a thought that haunted him, ever since the policeman had shown up on his doorstep and he’d learned of the plane crash. Before that, he’d lost one of his best friends at age eight to a child abduction, the infamous Lockwood twins kidnapping. That had screwed with his head too.
Fortunately in Fenn’s case, he turned out to be alive, but it still convinced Royce of one thing: loving someone meant losing them. Whatever sunny memories of boys playing in the woods he may have carried with him, he could not forget the memories that came next. The endless searches for a body, the baying of bloodhounds, the faces of his best friends on every paper and TV screen for nearly two months, the hushed conversations he heard his parents have about protecting him.
It was all dark, all bad.
Royce shook his head to clear the murky thoughts of the past. He needed to focus on Kenzie and turn his thoughts to the man behind their current mess, Vadym Andreikiv. Kenzie was in danger as long as she was connected to him. If Royce had learned anything from Hans it was that in a situation like this you had to take the fight to the other side. Sitting and waiting for axe to fall was no way to live, and it gave the enemy all the advantages.
No, I’m a fighter. If Vadym wanted Royce that badly, he was going to get far more than he’d bargained for. He was going to go to Moscow and take him down.
Royce reached the spare bedroom he’d chosen for Kenzie and sat down on the bed. Tucking one pillow under her head, he lost himself in the sweet scent of her, a sexy, tempting woman who would always be off-limits. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. Then, with a heavy sigh, he took the thick soft throw from the foot of the bed and covered her up to her chin to keep her warm.
“Rest easy, Little Mac,” he murmured as he left the room.
Hans stood in the hallway, hands on his hips. “She okay? I saw you carry her upstairs.”
Royce nodded. “She fainted. I think it was a little much for her.”
Hans snorted. “You think? She just got dropped headfirst into your world without any warning or preparation. It’s a little much for me too, and I should be used to it by now.” Hans’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I called the local 5-0. They’ll be here. We’ll have to wake her up for them to take her statement. And then we have to call in flights to Moscow.”
“You really want to fly to Russia with me? I’m touched,” Royce teased.
The usually stoic bodyguard chuckled. “You forget, I know you, Devereaux. You are too damned cocky for your own good. You need someone to watch your back. Emery would be pissed off if I let you get yourself killed by some Ruskies.”
Royce smirked. “Fair enough.” He followed Hans back downstairs to wait. He didn’t pick up or touch anything. The cops would treat this as a crime scene, so he went back to his office to wait and think.
His office had always been a place of refuge. No matter what happened in his life, he could always go there, shut out the present, and lose himself in the distant past.
He walked over to his bookshelves and lifted up a small fossil. It was only two and a half inches long. An Archimediella shell, white and rounded like a narwhal horn, with whorls overhanging the sutures that wound around the shell from base to tip. It was an ancient, primeval snail shell, yet it was also a thing of beauty, even though it was the kind of fossil one could find almost anywhere in the world.
This one had been found on a lonely stretch of New York’s Gold Coast by a dark-haired woman with laughing gray eyes.
“Royce, come here, darling!” his mother shouted. She stood in ankle-deep water that rushed up the beach before it was pulled back out to sea. Royce ran across the cold sand to reach her, taking the slender object she held out in her hands. A white hornlike shell.
He wrinkled his nose and studied the object, wiping the sand off it. “What is it?”
“It’s a shell, a very old one,” his mother said. “A fossil.”
“Like the dinosaurs?” Royce was immediately obsessed with the shell now. His room was full of dinosaur books.
“Yes, like the dinosaurs.” His mother bent over and kissed his forehead, making him squirm and jump out of reach so he could wipe the offending kiss away.
“Ugh, Mom, please. I’m too old for that.”
“Too old for what?” a voice asked behind him. Royce jumped at the sound. His father was a tall, handsome man with warm brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled.
“Mom’s kisses. I’m too old for that, Dad.” He returned his attention to the shell.
“Too old for your mother’s kisses? What a pity. I never tire of them.” His father rushed into the shallows and scooped his mother out by the waist, kissing her soundly. He twirled, letting his wife spin in the air before setting her down and kissing her again.
Royce watched them, smiling. Normally he would have shouted for them to stop, that it was gross, but not today. It was okay for Dad to kiss Mom. That’s what a good dad did. And his dad was the best.
The memory caught Royce off guard. It was like a beacon of light cutting through the heavy shroud of darkness around his heart. The brightness made him flinch. Thinking about them, two good people dead and gone, two people who’d been his whole world—it fucking hurt like hell.
They had also set him on his course to be one of the world’s most renowned paleontology experts. Every time he dug into the earth and found a new fossil, somewhere deep inside he became that boy again, seeing that shell for the first time. And for a brief moment, his parents were still alive.
Setting the shell down, he glanced out his window to see two police cars and an ambulance racing down the drive toward the house. Damn, this part was going to suck. He didn’t have time to explain to the cops why he and Hans had shot a man, and he hadn’t forgotten what Kenzie had said, that the men involved claimed to have a man planted in the local PD.
“Royce,” Hans called out from the hallway. “The 5-0s are here. I’ll wake Ms. Martin.”
Royce wiped the blood off his hands before he left his office and met the officers at the door.
Half an hour later, the ambulance took the body to the morgue, and the asshole they had captured was hauled away in a cop car. Kenzie had barely spoken except to answer the questions the police asked. Royce had told her to tell the truth, even about the smuggling. He was not connected to anything bad, so it didn’t matter what the cops heard. What mattered was the police finding that the fatality was in self-defense and that Royce was not required to stay for further questioning.
Fortunately, that’s exactly what happened. He was sure part of that had to do with who he was. There were some perks to being the sole heir to a vast fortune on the New England Gold Coast. He didn’t usually like that he was treated differently, but in this case having the cops off his back was a good thing.
Hans escorted the officers to the door, and Royce focused on Kenzie, who was still in shock. Hell, he would be too if he’d been normal, but normal had died in him a long time ago.
“Hey, Little Mac, why don’t you take a shower?” He would have suggested a bath, but he could see the look in her eyes—a glassy, almost frozen look. A shower was better for clearing a person’s head after crazy shit went down.
“Okay.” She bit her bottom lip. He cursed inside as the sight of her teeth sinking into the soft, pale-pink flesh of her lips made him hard. It was probably all th
e adrenaline from the firefight. He normally had better control.
“Come on.” He held out a hand and she took it, trusting and sweet like a child, but there was nothing childish about the full curves of her womanly body. The tall, model-thin blondes he usually slept with at the club didn’t feel real, and he couldn’t fall in love with something fake. But Kenzie? She was the sort of woman men would fight to the death over, not just to make love to, but to keep and treasure forever. That was the last thing Royce needed. He knew he needed to keep his distance from Kenzie, for both their sakes. He tightened his fingers around hers, squeezing in a silent show of support.
“Come to my room. The shower is better in there,” he said as they climbed back up the stairs. She looked so small and vulnerable in his large button-up pajamas. Fucking adorable. And I’m the idiot who’s telling her to use my shower.
If anyone needed a shower, it was him. A cold one.
“Thanks, Dr. Devereaux,” she said as they reached his room.
“You can call me Royce, Little Mac. We’re not on campus.” He smiled at her look of startled hesitation. “Seriously, Royce is fine.” After everything they’d been through together, he did not want a reminder of the big fucking elephant in the room between them.
“Royce.” She smiled a little, and it warmed him inside. The smile was a good sign. She was coming out of the shock if she was showing more emotions.
As they entered his bedroom, he nodded toward the shower in the bathroom. “Go and take care of yourself. I’ll have Hans make a run to your apartment for some clothes and anything else you need.”
She wrinkled her nose and blushed. “He doesn’t mind? I mean…”
“He won’t mind, and don’t be shy, not unless you’ve got something to hide. Do you have something to hide, Little Mac?” He was teasing, but given how wide her eyes grew, he wondered if there might be. He reached out, catching her hips in his hands so she couldn’t retreat.
“I can leave a list of all the things I need,” she said, avoiding the question. He could feel her trembling in his hold, and her pupils were a little dilated. So she was hiding something. Rather than pry for details, he decided he’d have Hans find out whatever it was.
“There’s a notepad in the drawer by my bed. Make a list before you shower, and I’ll get it to him.”
He let go of her, forcing himself to remember this kind of contact was wrong. He needed to go downstairs and figure out what the hell to do about all the damage to his place while he was in Russia. He went back downstairs and found Hans in the hall with a broom, sweeping up the glass. Mr. Lansdown, the butler, stood next to him in his dressing gown, eyes wide and solemn.
“Dr. Devereaux, I can arrange to have someone out here tomorrow morning to give us a quote on the glass and other repairs.”
“Thanks. I’ll be leaving for Moscow sometime tomorrow. I’ll leave you to handle it. Call me if anything urgent arises.”
“Will do, sir.” Mr. Lansdown was used to running Devereaux House whenever Royce left for a dig or a conference.
“Hans,” Royce said. “Would you mind running to Kenzie’s place and grabbing a few of her things from her apartment?”
“No problem. It will give me a chance to see if her place is being watched.”
“Oh…” Royce paused. “It’s probably nothing, but let me know if you turn up anything interesting. I think Kenzie might have a few secrets she’s hiding.”
Hans raised a brow. “Anything I should be worried about?”
Royce grinned a little. “Probably nothing serious. My guess is just something that embarrasses her.” Royce tucked his hands in his jeans pockets and watched the bodyguard shake his head. “Still, better safe than sorry.”
Hans rolled his eyes. “You boys, your women and your secrets.”
Royce laughed. No doubt the bodyguard had thoroughly searched more than a few women’s homes over the years.
“I’ll just go grab her list.” Royce went back upstairs and heard the water running. The door to the bathroom was ajar. Kenzie’s curvy body was beneath the spray, but she wasn’t standing. She was huddled in a tight ball in the center, her head bowed as water rained down around her. Royce grabbed the list and ran to give it to Hans, then raced back to the bathroom. His Little Mac needed him.
Kenzie kept her eyes shut tight, but she couldn’t keep out the violent flashes of memory of everything that had happened tonight. The gun barrel aimed at her head back at the office, which already felt like a lifetime ago. The escape through dark and wet streets to the Gilded Cuff, uncertain if anywhere would be safe. And then the shots, the shattering glass and wood of the pantry door exploding above her.
I could have died. The panic filled her with an unexpected rage, and she shook all the harder beneath the hot water.
“Kenzie, honey…” Royce’s rough voice drew her slowly out of the depths of her thoughts. She didn’t look up, not at first. She was too ashamed, too mortified he was seeing her like this.
“Honey, please.” The shower door opened, and Royce stepped in, still in his clothes, but without his boots. He knelt beside her, then eased onto the tile floor, his arm touching her bare shoulder. He reached his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him.
Kenzie watched his other hand settle on one of her knees. Small cuts on his hand caused thin red rivulets of blood to trickle down from his skin to hers. She raised her head. Her nose brushed his cheek, feeling the slightly rough stubble along his jaw.
“You’re hurt,” she said, gazing at him. A pain hung there in his eyes, burning like a setting sun upon a distant horizon, but she didn’t think it was because of the minor cuts.
“This is nothing,” he said. She could almost hear the unspoken words flashing in his eyes. He’d hurt so much more than she’d ever know. She could feel the pieces splintering inside her chest.
She brought his hand to her lips, pressing a light kiss on the back of it, wishing she could take the pain from his eyes. From the moment she’d met him, she’d noticed this pain inside him, especially when he thought no one was watching. There had been a part of her that wanted to hold him close and promise she would not let him suffer any other hurts the world would bring. Yet here she was in a fetal position in the shower, unable to help herself, let alone him.
Royce’s lips parted and he cupped her face, turning her toward him as he leaned down. Their mouths were inches apart, and Kenzie felt an overwhelming need to feel those lips upon hers.
Please kiss me.
“What you went through tonight was hell, I know. It’s not easy to shake off the memories or the thoughts of ‘What if?’ But you can do this. You’re safe now. You can get through this, you got me?” He stared at her lips, and she leaned into him, wanting to close the last inch between them.
He pulled away before they would have kissed. A half-hidden smile twisted his lips. “I always knew you’d be the death of me, Little Mac.” The words cut but the tone was tender, which only confused her.
“You don’t want…?” She swallowed her humiliation. He doesn’t want me. All this time he was just teasing me for fun, not because he was interested.
His dark eyes were full of honeyed fire. “I do…want. But you’ve been through a nightmare tonight. No good wolf touches his kitten when she’s hurt and scared, except to comfort and protect her.”
“Wolf? Kitten?” she asked, not understanding the comparison.
Royce traced her lips with a fingertip. “It’s sort of BDSM lingo. A Dom is like a wolf, fierce and rough but loyal and protective. The sub is like a kitten, quick, smart, with sharp claws, but she needs to be handled with care. It’s a common analogy for my lifestyle. Do you know about BDSM?” he asked, still stroking her lips.
She nodded. “A little.” Her body was no longer shivering. A new heat spread through her at his close proximity and his touch.
“Never think I don’t want you.” He was frowning now. “But we both know that we can’t. It’s not wise.” He growled
the words as though he were as frustrated as she was with their situation.
“But you do want me?” If he did it would only make this harder, but she needed to know she wasn’t alone in her desire. She was so tired of feeling alone and shut out from a world that was full of passion. Her friends were all in great, loving relationships. She was the only one left out in the cold because she yearned for something more, something darker.
He smiled again, a playful grin. “Yes, Little Mac. I do. Someday, when you’re not so full of adrenaline and crashing from shock, I’ll tell you all the things I’ve imagined doing to you.”
She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. The hot water was burning her skin into his, almost melting them together.
“We need to get you to bed so you can rest. Hans has your list and will be back soon.”
She didn’t want to leave the shower or give up this rare, unusual intimacy they were sharing.
“Royce?” She watched him stand, his clothes dripping as he got out of the shower.
“Yeah?” He retrieved a large fluffy white towel and held it up for her, his face turned away. Ever the gentleman.
She paused, trying to figure out how to ask what she needed. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“Stay with me?” He waited as she stood and took the towel, wrapping it around her body. He nudged gently for her to dry off.
“In your room…with you? I don’t know if I can sleep alone right now. I keep seeing those men.” She shuddered.
He watched her, his keen eyes not missing her body’s reactions to the memories. “Sure.” He then smiled at her. “Guess that means no more sleeping naked. Damn.”
And just like that, one little tease from him and she felt safe.
He left her alone in the bathroom, and she watched him through a crack in the door. He peeled off his soaking T-shirt, revealing a beautiful back with rippling muscles. A few cuts marred his tan skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. When his hands went to the fly of his jeans, she turned away, her face flushing. She knew better than to torture herself with visions of a naked Royce. She was already going to have trouble sleeping.
