DRAGON SECURITY: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

I was outraged at the thought, burning with anger that anyone would do such a thing. I took his hand, pulled it into my lap and held it tight, comforting not the man I knew, but the child who still lived inside of him and was still hurting from this horrifying thing that had happened to him.

  “There was very little evidence. They’d both been wearing gloves and they both shaved their entire bodies. They wore clothes that were generic—available almost anywhere.” He bit his lip as he shook his head. “They were brilliant, really. If I were a criminal, that’s what I would do. I would use their tactics as a rule book.”

  “But they went to jail.”

  “Manslaughter. They were sentenced to fifteen to twenty years. It’s been almost eighteen.”

  “They’re letting them out?”

  “Yes. And one of them, the bellman, swore to come after me when they did. That’s why the DOC is trying to contact me. They want to offer me protection.”

  I snickered at the thought. “Do they know what you do for a living? They want to protect the protector?”

  He shrugged as I climbed into his lap and touched his face. “Don’t worry, Hayden. I got your back.”

  “Oh, do you?” He grinned as he looked up at me. “Would you take a bullet for me?”

  “Any day.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn’t I be pledging to take a bullet for you?”

  I frowned, trying to look offended. “Don’t you know we’ve come out the other side of the women’s movement? I have your back, you have mine. Equality.”

  “Okay,” he said, sliding his hand under my tee. “Is that equality in everything?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then if I wanted you to do a little something for me that I’ve done for you on more than one occasion, this equality thing would require you to do it?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, my lower belly starting to tighten at the thought.

  “Good,” he said, lifting me off his lap. “There is a huge stack of dishes in the sink that really need a good scrubbing.”

  I spun around and slapped at his shoulder, but I was off balance and fell into a giggling heap in his lap. He pushed me back against the couch cushions, running his fingers over my ribs, tickling me until I couldn’t catch my breath. He suddenly sobered as he held me trapped under his body.

  “It really doesn’t change the way you look at me, does it?”

  “Of course not. You can’t control what someone else did.”

  “I could have stopped them. I could have called the police.”

  “You were six, Hayden. You didn’t even realize what was happening.”

  “But I hid. I heard my mother being raped, and all I did was hide.”

  “Because she told you to. If you hadn’t, you would probably be dead, too.”

  He was quiet for a minute, his eyes moving slowly over my face. “It used to be the only thing I thought about. All day I would relive it, remembering everything I heard and saw. But then it began to fade. I grew up, became a teenager with raging hormones, and found other things to concentrate on. But it would still be there, in the back of my mind, waiting until I closed my eyes at night. Always there. Always.” I brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Until you. Until the first time I saw you, and suddenly my thoughts were full of you, and it was pushed onto a back burner only coming back on those really bad nights when nothing else could be there. You made it better for me just by looking at me when you spoke, just by smiling at me the way you do when I walk into the office, like I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.”

  “You are.”

  He smiled softly. And this time it did reach his eyes.

  “You make me a better person. You make me feel like the man I should have been back then, and the man I want to be now. You make me believe that there was a reason why I lived that night.”

  He reached between our bodies, grabbed my thighs and positioned me perfectly underneath him, my legs open wide and waiting for whatever he wanted.

  “You make me wish I hadn’t waited so long to tell you how I feel about you.”

  I watched his face as I ran my hands down the length of his chest and felt his stomach quiver as I reached for his belt. I watched as I tugged it open and reached inside for that long, thick cock.

  “I want you,” I said, clear and steady, saying it aloud with the confidence of a woman who’d been asking for what she wanted all her life. “I want you inside of me, Hayden.”

  “I’ve always wanted you,” he whispered as he moved close, scraping his lips across my jaw. “I love you.”

  He thrust against me in that moment, filling me in that one movement. I cried out, wrapping my legs around him to hold him still and wrapping my arms around him because I needed to be close to him. I closed my eyes, telling myself this was real even as my heart refused to believe it. I never thought I would hear those words fall from the lips of a man I wanted—I loved. But there they were, filling my heart to the brim and filling me with hope and love and a million things I never imagined I would ever feel. Not like this, anyway.

  I didn’t want him to love me. I didn’t want him to waste his time on me. But I was too selfish to let him go.

  Chapter 13

  Megan

  Dante tapped on the door and stuck his head inside.

  “Where’s Sam? These girls are sort of lost without her here.”

  “I know.” I waved my hand at him. “They’ll just have to learn to deal.”

  “Where is she? Is something wrong?”

  I looked up, a little annoyed that he was pulling me away from the report I’d been just a few lines from finishing.

  “She’s in Colorado with Hayden.”

  “Hayden?” Dante’s eyebrows rose. “Are they…?”

  I nodded, turning back to the report. “Their timing is the worst, but, yeah. I guess they hooked up that night they did the mortgage thing.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  I finished the report, pushed send, and then turned back to him. He was watching me, this look in his eyes that reminded me of Luke. I hated that he reminded me of Luke. I hated that everything lately seemed to remind me of Luke.

  I sat back and dragged my fingers through my hair, trying to clear my mind.

  It didn’t work.

  “I’m happy for Sam. She’s never really had a serious boyfriend. And she’s had such a crush on Hayden since the first time he walked through these doors. I just…”

  I stopped, catching myself before I could say more than I wanted to.

  There was curiosity in Dante’s eyes. And concern. He was a complicated man and ours was a complicated relationship. As much as I wanted it to remain simple, it was anything but. I liked him, I did. I just…why couldn’t I forget Luke? The man left me. He walked away on our wedding day. After years of promises and commitment, he walked away. Why was I having so much trouble moving on?

  Dante came over and maneuvered my chair around so that I was sitting between his legs. His expression was deadly serious, the kind of expression a man wore when he knew his woman’s thoughts were not completely on him.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I was hoping we’d spend Christmas together.”

  He smelled like fresh cut wood, and the heat of his body reminded me of all the nights we’d spent curled up in each other’s arms. A part of me so wanted to fold myself into him and to let him hold me and touch me in that way that he had that sent so much pleasure rushing through my body. I hadn’t thought I would ever again feel that kind of pleasure after Luke left me, but Dante proved that it was still possible. I was grateful for that.

  “My family wanted me at the house. It’s a tradition.”

  “You don’t want to introduce me?”

  I studied his face for a long moment, wondering if he honestly believed that I would.

  “This thing between us, it’s not that kind of relationship.”


  “I know.” He touched my face lightly. “Will it ever be?”

  He spoke so quietly; I might not have been meant to hear him. Then he didn’t let me answer. He leaned forward and kissed me, a long, passionate kiss that made my toes curl and my bones melt. I did fold into him then, wishing that there had never been a Luke. If there had never been a Luke, then Dante would be so much more to me than a placeholder—someone to fill a void in my life. In my bed. I hated that I was using him, but he seemed okay with it, in the beginning, anyway.

  I thought maybe I was doing him a disservice, that I was leading him down a path of heartache too much like my own. It wasn’t right. I should let him go to find happiness somewhere else. But then his hands slid over my thighs, tugging at my skirt until his fingers could slip underneath. He knew just how to touch me, just where to touch me. And when he touched me, my heart pounded with anticipation.

  “I want you,” he whispered against my ear. And when he did that, I could almost make myself believe it could all work out and there could be a future without Luke.

  I leaned into him and let him touch me a moment longer. But then the sounds of a normal working day seeped in through the walls and I was reminded of where I was and who I was, and that was more powerful than a cold shower.

  I pushed back, rolling my chair around to face the computer.

  “I have work,” I said.

  “What about later? Would you mind if I stopped by your place tonight?”

  I studied his face for a long moment—the nose that was too narrow and the jaw that was too wide. I bit my lip.

  “After nine. I’ve got all this work to catch up on.”

  He smiled. “I’ll see you at nine, then.”

  He kissed me gently before he walked away.

  I watched him go, trying not to enjoy the sight of his ass moving in those tight jeans. But it was so hard not to.

  I took a deep breath and turned back to the computer. There was an email from Sam that was dated just before Christmas. I opened it and found another page of unscrambled notes from the file Emily Greene had been killed for. I read through it, trying to make sense out of it. Emily was investigating a terrorist cell based out of France, and the file was filled with her results. This page looked like it was a copy of information she’d taken from some CIA records. There were names I recognized—names of people she’d traced and determined were involved in the terrorist cell in some way. I had Hayden working on those names—when he was working—but he wasn’t coming up with anything concrete, nothing we could use.

  I was beginning to think that I would never find out what Peter was investigating, and that I’d never be able to prove that he was murdered. Every time we came across information, it was either corrupted or proved to be a dead end.

  I knew in my heart that Peter didn’t just drive into that barrier because he was distracted. I knew that he was forced off the road. And one of these days I was going to prove it.

  Chapter 14

  Sam

  I stood under the spray of the water, my chest feeling as though a cinderblock was sitting on it. I closed my eyes and pictured a sandy beach somewhere, imagining myself sitting there in a bikini, a book in my hands and the sun warming my skin. It was a calming exercise that’d I’d used since I was in high school. It normally worked. But today, I found myself imagining Hayden in swim trunks, his bare chest—and the thin hair sprinkling over his pecs—shining gold in the sunlight.

  That image didn’t help lower my blood pressure, especially when the man himself, in all his naked glory, climbed into the shower behind me.

  He reached around me and picked up the sliver of soap from the little tray below the showerhead. He made a lather between his hands and rubbed it into my shoulders, the warm smell of sandalwood surrounding me. I leaned back into him, hoping he would think my odd breathing was because of his touch.

  “Do we really have to go back?” he asked against my ear.

  “Unfortunately.”

  He groaned. “One more day.”

  I closed my eyes again, the feel of his chest against my back so warm and reassuring. The heaviness in my chest wasn’t going away. And there was that feeling that I was drowning. I couldn’t understand why it was happening again so soon after the last time. The doctor said something about adjusting my medications when I called. And rest. I wasn’t getting enough rest.

  I didn’t know how that was possible. We’d spent the entire past four days in bed. Even then, I was exhausted. I was sleeping twelve, fourteen hours and still felt as though I could sleep another twelve. Hayden must have thought I was the laziest woman in the world.

  He ran his hands over my back, the soap lubricating the way. He worked his way around my waist and up to my breasts, his hands lifting them and massaging them, my nipples standing up on end at the feel of him. I could feel his cock rising and pressing against the small of my back. My lower belly ached for his touch even as exhaustion whispered that I could never keep up.

  He turned me around and pressed me up against the shower wall. We kissed for a long moment, but I couldn’t catch my breath. I had to turn away, but he wasn’t discouraged. He kissed my throat, his lips sliding slowly down the length of me, pausing to take proper care of my nipples before he dropped to his knees. My head began to spin as I looked at him down there, this big, powerful man on his knees to please me. It was overwhelming, just that thought.

  My knees went weak the moment he touched me, his tongue doing incredible things to my clit. He grabbed my ass, holding me up with sheer determination. I couldn’t help the sounds that slipped from between my lips. It didn’t take long until I was riding that roller coaster, the one he always took me on. And when it was done, he picked me up and carried me back to the bed, drying me with his towel, while he stood dripping wet beside the bed. He wrapped me in blankets and I was so warm and cozy that I drifted off to sleep, not even aware I’d done it until I woke sometime later and found him fully dressed, stretched out on the bed beside me, reading something on his iPad.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned close and kissed my cheek. “You must have been tired.”

  I nodded as I turned into him. “You must be so bored.”

  “No. I went for a walk. Then I just lay here, watching you.”

  I blushed. “Very bored, then.”

  He shook his head, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I could watch you all day and all night.”

  “You’re too good to me.”

  He studied my face for a long minute. “You’re my girl, Sam. There’s nothing I could want more than to be alone with you. We don’t have to do anything at all. Just be together.”

  I reached up and kissed him roughly, gratitude burning in my chest.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the Luke/Dante thing—well, when I wasn’t thinking about Hayden, about my health situation, and about the not so distant future—and how they seemed wrapped up in this investigation that apparently got Peter killed. I wrestled with it in my mind when I was supposed to be working on other things. Or lying in a hospital bed, recovering from yet another thoracentesis, as I was now.

  Megan was sitting in a chair beside me, reading from a magazine. She thought I was asleep, but I was really just pretending, trying to get all these things straight in my head. I wanted to solve this puzzle for her—to put the pieces together as quickly as possible. I wanted her to have answers, to know the real reason why the man she loved left her at such a dramatic moment in their lives.

  I remember watching Megan and Luke when we were young and they’d first started dating in high school. I was a latecomer to their world. Luke had been there since they were all small children, this fixture in their home just like Mrs. Murphy, his mother and the Bradford’s housekeeper. I wasn’t there to see their relationship bud and bloom, but I was there when they fell in love. It was sweet, really, the long looks across the classroom, the shy discussions in the hallway about homework and how lam
e the dance was. It might have been just any other teen romance, but even I knew that it wasn’t. There was always more between Megan and Luke.

  I wanted to prove to her that he didn’t leave because he wanted to. Anyone with eyes could see how in love with her he was.

  But it was more than that. Luke was my friend. He was there for me in dark moments when I couldn’t turn to anyone, not even Megan. He always seemed to know when those moments were, and he always made himself available. Always.

  Why was Luke’s name in Emily Greene’s files? Why did she appear to connect him with a group of CIA agents who were working with the terrorist cell in France? Did that have something to do with his sudden disappearance?

  And Dante… Why did it look like he was the one who activated the virus the day we were all looking at Emily’s files? And why did the virus activate just as a page was loading that would tell me what Luke’s connection was to the terrorist cell?

  Luke disappeared not long after Peter told him about the case he was investigating. Peter had learned that someone was selling his company’s software without a proper license. It began as a case of an employee attempting to profit off of something that was not his to profit from. But then it grew into something bigger and much more complicated. Before his death, Peter learned that the software was being used to transfer information covertly between terror cell members. But to all appearances, he learned that after Luke disappeared. Could the two still be connected? Was it possible that Peter had somehow stumbled onto an old case of Luke’s from when he was an active CIA agent? If so, could that be the real reason why Luke disappeared?

  If that was true, then how did Luke fit into Peter’s death? And where did Dante come in to all of this? Was he CIA, too?

  There was something odd about the conversation Megan and I had with Dante’s former coworkers. Their stories were too similar, too perfectly vague. And the tattoo…that bothered me. I wasn’t sure, at first, if it meant anything at all. But the more I thought about it, it was odd that Dante had tattoos right where Luke had a tattoo of a line from Inferno. But no others. He didn’t have his badge number tattooed anywhere on his body as far as I knew. But the cop had seemed so confident, so assured, when he said that was something a lot of cops did. There was always an exception, of course. But it bothered me that someone who would have such extensive tattooing done on his chest wouldn’t be proud enough, or inspired enough, or even practical enough, to have his badge number tattooed somewhere on his body. And what were the chances that both Luke and Dante would have someone they cared for in the same nursing facility here in Houston?