The Protector: The Complete C.I.A Romance Series

by Monroe, Lilian

  “I’m fine,” she said to my unspoken question.

  I took a step toward her, and the whole world felt off-balance. Hailey’s apartment fell away. The distant sound of a siren faded. All I could see was her face, angry and sad and open, staring back at me. We stood chest-to-chest, and I brought my hand up to her cheek. I brushed my knuckles over her skin and she exhaled, leaning into my touch.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she sighed.

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “I’ll go.”

  I dropped my hand. She caught my palm and brought it back up to her face, closing her eyes. I dragged my thumb across her lower lip, so pink and full as her mouth opened for me. She kissed my thumb almost involuntarily and I exhaled. It was too much. She was too close.

  All I wanted to do was cage her up against the wall and make her mine. I wanted her legs wrapped around my waist and her lips on my skin. I wanted to taste her—all of her. I wanted my hands to be the only hands to touch her silky skin. I wanted to brand her, claim her, own her.

  When her tongue slid out to lick my thumb, her eyes flicked up to mine. The gold flecks in her irises burned with desire and I slipped my other hand to her hip, sliding my fingers up under the hem of her shirt to feel the heat of her skin. Warm, soft, perfect.

  Hailey’s hands crawled up my chest and I could see the pulse hammering in her throat. She curled her fingers around my shoulders, my back, tangling them into my hair.

  “Why are you here?” She asked, her voice soft. It was a breath, a whisper.

  “For you.”

  I pulled her to me and kissed her. I crushed my lips against hers, swiping my tongue and driving it into her mouth. She tasted sweet, and good, and wrong. She moaned into my mouth and I pulled her closer, wanting her to feel how hard she made me.

  Hailey nipped at my bottom lip and curled her fingers into my hair. She rolled her hips toward me as her lips tangled with mine. It was more than a kiss. My hand sank into her hip and the touch burned. I wanted more. I slipped my fingers below the elastic band of her pants to feel the cleft of her ass.

  She moaned, her lips warring with mine as we devoured each other. Her hair was wet and cold as it brushed against me. Her body was warm. Her kiss—hot.

  When she pulled me closer, I growled from the back of my throat. I kissed her jaw, her neck. I brought my hand up to cup her breast and tease her nipple. I made small circles, thumbing it hard until she whimpered. Taking her lips again, I couldn’t get enough of her. I pushed her back toward the door and caged her against it. My leg nestled between her thighs and I could feel the heat of her sex.

  “Freddy…” I caught my name between her lips and kissed her harder. She moaned again, reaching down between my legs to feel my hardness.

  I… fuck. She hooked her fingers into my waistband and pulled me close, lifting her leg up over my hip. There were too many layers of clothing between us. I growled, pushing myself against the heat of her center as she moaned again.

  Then, she put her hands on my chest and pushed. I leaned my forehead against hers as we both panted.

  “Wait,” she said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No. Yes.” She slipped away from me, taking a few steps to the side and leaning against the wall. She put a hand to her head, inhaling slowly. My blood still burned with desire for her and I couldn’t think of anything except how much I wanted to rip those plaid pants off her long legs and bury my cock deep inside her.

  But she squared her shoulders and turned toward me, her face shuttered. “You should go,” she said. “Jayden…”

  “I thought you broke up.”

  “He doesn’t know that yet.”

  I frowned.

  She turned her face away from me. “Please, Freddy. I don’t… You caught me at a bad time. I… You should leave.” She put a hand to her chest and swung her eyes back to me. They were so dark, so full of agony that they almost knocked me back.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Can I call you?”

  “No.”

  I bit my lip. My cock was still hard. My hands could still feel the heat of her skin. My lips were wet with her kiss. I wanted more. I wanted it all and I knew she wanted it, too. I could tell by the way she’d kissed me. How her body had reacted to my touch. How she’d moaned and said my name.

  But she also wanted me to leave, so I sighed, raking my hands through my hair. I unlocked the door and glanced at her one more time. She didn’t meet my eyes, so I said nothing and left.

  7

  Hailey

  It was past midnight when Freddy left the apartment. I locked the door and for the second time that night, leaned against it and exhaled.

  My body was bathed in flames. My center was aching for him... screaming for him. My hands trembled as I brushed the spot on my hip where he’d touched me. Marked me. Branded me.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. That was never supposed to happen. Freddy Finch was the one person that I couldn’t stand.

  And yet… and yet…

  It was never like that with Jayden. The energy, the explosiveness. The raw, feral need. My body was still coursing with sweet, agonizing desire. My mind was wet mush. I couldn’t think straight, and all I knew was that I’d just kissed the first man who had betrayed me.

  I swung my eyes around the room, landing on Jayden’s laptop bag and I tasted ash in my mouth. Freddy wouldn’t be the last man to hurt me. It seemed to be a common thread from my teenage years onward. In Jayden, I thought I’d finally met someone who cared about me—but he was just like all the others.

  But wasn’t I just as bad? I hadn’t even broken up with Jayden and I was already inviting guys into my living room to kiss them.

  It was more than a kiss.

  I shook the thought away, wiping my trembling hands on the front of my pajama pants. The room felt cold. I shivered. I couldn’t stay here.

  This was Jayden’s apartment. These were his things. Even though I’d moved in more than six months ago, he never let me put anything on the walls. Never let me add my own touch to the place. I was too girly, he said. It wouldn’t look right, he told me.

  For who, I wondered? Had he had girls over here, in our space, in our bed? Was that why my personality was nowhere in this space? Or maybe Jayden had just wanted to strip me of my spirit, my voice, my independence. Living here made me feel smaller.

  I took a tentative step toward the bedroom. The soles of my feet felt like they were burning. Every step that I took in this place was like walking on a bed of hot coals. I winced. When I pushed the bedroom door open, my heart sank. I couldn’t sleep in that bed. I didn’t know what had happened in it.

  In the dark, hidden corners of my heart, I’d always known Jayden was a dog, but it still hurt. God, how it hurt. Heartbreak was a physical feeling, like an ax being shoved into my chest and shattering my ribs into a thousand pieces. The hollow space where my heart used to be was filled with fragments of my bones, cutting jagged scars into my flesh.

  I pinched my lips and threw the closet door open, grabbing my suitcase and duffel bag. I couldn’t stay here.

  Thoughts of Freddy threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed them down. Thoughts of him—of his kiss, of his hands—they all bubbled back up as I took all my shirts off the hangers and shoved them into the bags. I bit my lip until I tasted the coppery tang of blood and I focused on what I knew best.

  Anger. Pain. Agony.

  I fed the voice inside my head—the one that told me to lean into the pain. I knew the reason my paintings had sold was because of this ache inside me, so why should I shy away from it? I was made to hurt. Ever since Freddy betrayed me, my body had become a vessel for all the badness in the world.

  I’d used it to become an artist, and I would continue to use it.

  Pain was all I had left.

  In a surprisingly short amount of time, my suitcase and bag were both full. The rented gown was laid on top of them in its own gar
ment bag, a bitter reminder of the world that I only pretended to belong to. Apart from a space in the closet, the apartment looked almost the same.

  I swung my eyes around the bedroom and walked out. In the living room, I stuffed my backpack full of my sketchbooks and colored pencils—the rest of my art supplies were at the studio that Gianni had provided for me.

  That’s where I would go tonight. It was too late to call Tanya, and I didn’t have any money for a hotel yet. I wouldn’t have any money for anything—not until the sales of the paintings went through.

  I didn’t mind sleeping at the studio. Being around the canvasses made me calmer and the smell of paint settled my soul. Nowhere else would calm the ache in my heart tonight.

  I pulled out my phone and checked my rideshare app for nearby cars. I could be picked up in seven minutes, it told me. I booked the car and sighed. Seven minutes.

  The seconds ticked by with torturous slowness. I sat on the arm of the couch, staring at the floor until it was time to go downstairs. At nearly two in the morning, the driver barely said a word to me. I was grateful.

  I directed him to the back of the Russo Art Gallery, to the nondescript steel door that led to my studio. It was a smaller room attached to the main gallery through an invisible door in the wall. It was where I’d been hiding when I first walked out and saw Freddy.

  The gallery building itself was about twice the size as the exhibition space, with studios, storerooms, and offices tucked away behind a multitude of doors and hallways. I’d only seen about half the space, but I was grateful for my little corner. Gianni hadn’t just given me a career. Right now, he was saving my sanity by giving me somewhere to go.

  The driver helped me with my bags as I unlocked the studio door. I pulled my suitcases inside and nodded to the man before letting the door close behind me with a loud clang. In the darkness, I took a deep breath.

  The soothing aromas of oil paint, wood, and various solvents filled my nostrils. I let my heartbeat finally calm down.

  I was home.

  I wheeled my suitcase to the far corner, where Gianni had placed a plush sofa. Flicking on a small lamp, I settled on the couch, resting my head against a scratchy cushion. I should have taken one of Jayden’s pillows.

  Finally, in the silence and serenity of my studio, my thoughts quieted. My body relaxed with every breath, and I allowed myself to cry.

  I cried until my body felt weak, until I felt empty, until my eyes were puffy and I ached from head to toe. I curled up in the fetal position on the couch, with my back to the studio, and cried until there were no more tears left.

  Then, I brushed my cheeks off and exhaled.

  I had a studio. I’d sold all my paintings and had a few more works commissioned. I had a foothold in the art world. Who cared if I’d broken up with my deadbeat, cheating boyfriend who evidently didn’t give two fucks about me? Who cared if my first true love had showed up in my life unannounced and kissed me like the world was ending?

  As my tears dried, my heart shuttered itself against the world. I unfurled my body and stretched out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I didn’t need Jayden, or Freddy, or anyone else. I was stronger without them.

  Then, my mother’s voice echoed through my mind. Après la pluie, le beau temps, she would say. After the rain comes good weather. I hoped she was right.

  8

  Freddy

  I needed her. I needed her under me, around me, on top of me. I needed her immediately. But Hailey locked the door behind me and I knew I couldn’t have her.

  Glancing at my watch, I let out a breath. Past midnight, and I was outside my high school sweetheart’s apartment with a hard-on. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to think about it. That kiss… It was… Fuck.

  It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was… everything.

  Hailey was different than when we were kids. We both were. She was quieter, sadder, darker. She didn’t have that untarnished, carefree light shining from her. But she was still Hailey.

  And I was… Well, I wasn’t the gangly loser who didn’t fit in with all the rich kids. I could see the spark in her eyes when she looked at my body.

  Hailey always saw me—the real me. She saw me for who I was, not for who everyone else wanted me to be. When the popular kids turned their noses up at me, Hailey sought me out. She was my first kiss, my first love. She was my first everything. And then, faster than I could blink, it was over. I ruined it all, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

  An hour ago, I would have said it was too late. I’d lost her.

  But now…

  I glanced back down the hallway toward her door, which stayed resolutely closed. I couldn’t wait for the elevator’s slow climb toward me, so I pushed open the stairwell door and took the steps two at a time. I rushed downstairs and burst out the lobby door, inhaling the crisp, night air. I was still wearing my suit jacket, and I buttoned it up to ward off the chill.

  Gary would be wondering where I was, but I didn’t want to call him. I needed time to think. To process. Tonight had been very, very different than I’d expected. I walked down the block toward the bar, which would still be open for another couple of hours.

  I couldn’t go in, though. I couldn’t sit still. I walked by the doorway—the sound of music and shouting coming from inside.

  My mission was to investigate the Russos, and ultimately bring them down. But now… Hailey was involved. I couldn’t take down Gianni Russo without hurting Hailey. Her career, her art—it was intertwined with Gianni’s life. If I brought him down, it would be the second time that I destroyed Hailey’s future.

  The first time had been hard enough. I hadn’t had a choice—or at least, that’s what I’d told myself.

  Now, I knew I had a choice. I had to get Hailey out from under Gianni’s thumb, away from Marco and Francesco Russo. And then—only then—would we be able to make our move on the Russo family. This was the biggest assignment of my career, but I had to shield Hailey from it.

  Stopping at a quiet street corner, I glanced up and down the road before crossing at the red light. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and took a deep breath, turning everything over in my head.

  The hardest thing would be to get Hailey to trust me. But tonight, that kiss… There was still something between us. I know she felt it. How could she not? For ten years, I thought I was completely shut out from her life.

  But now…

  There was hope.

  I got to the next street corner just as a vehicle came screeching to a stop in front of me. Jumping back from the curb, my hand went to my waistband on instinct, to where my service weapon would usually be.

  Then, the passenger’s side door swung open and I let out a breath. “Gary,” I sighed.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Thinking.”

  He said nothing, and I climbed in. He started driving as I buckled my seatbelt. “Russo went home, didn’t come out again. Marco and Francesca apparently went to their hotel. We’re getting the paperwork drafted up to bug their rooms and we have surveillance set up on the building.”

  “Good,” I said.

  Gary glanced over at me, and I could hear the unspoken questions. Where were you? What did you do? Why didn’t you call?

  I didn’t answer any of them, and Gary didn’t ask. We drove toward the operation headquarters in silence.

  Berkeley, the CIA’s Special Activities Division Director, was waiting for us. He waved both of us toward the conference room and motioned to the door. Two other agents were already waiting there. Being in a conference room with an angry Berkeley at two o’clock in the morning was never a good place to be.

  I took a seat at the end of the table and Gary sat beside me. He took his wire-framed glasses off and wiped them on his shirt, and I knew he was nervous.

  “So,” Berk boomed, levelling his gaze toward me. “Why did you go AWOL? We were expecting you back here an hour ago.”

  “I wanted to m
ake sure the artist wasn’t involved.”

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “I just wanted to see where she was going.”

  “You think she has something to do with all this?”

  “No,” I answered, maybe a little too quickly.

  Berkeley frowned, sighing. He turned to the big, white projector screen and clicked a remote. Images of Marco and Francesca Russo appeared, along with Hailey on the art gallery steps. My heart jumped. I didn’t want her anywhere near this thing. “We’ve determined that the Russos came in on false passports as French nationals. They’ve been flagged, but we expect they’ll try to leave under different names. They’ve been on our radar for the past four years, and the fact that they’re in the United States begs the question of why.”

  “Something’s going down,” Gary said. “A deal.”

  Berkeley glanced at our skinny analyst and nodded. “Possibly. We need to find out with who, and we need to stop it.” He swung his eyes around the room, landing on me. “This is our chance to nail them. The Russos are back on American soil. We might not get this chance again.”

  I nodded, trying to look as serious and as sincere as possible—but in the center of my chest, a fire was burning. Yes, I wanted to bring the Russos down. Yes, I wanted to protect my country. Yes, I wanted to lock them up and throw away the key.

  But as of tonight, I wanted something else. I needed something else.

  Hailey.

  She was my new priority, and the main focus of the operation for me. Above all else, I needed to get her out of this mess before Berkeley ordered us to make a move on the Russos.

  She needed to be protected, and I was the only person who could do it. I was the only one who knew who she was, and knew that she was innocent. I was the only one who cared.

  And after tonight… fuck, I cared. I cared a lot. I didn’t just need to protect her, I needed to make it right. This was an opportunity to atone. To explain. To ask for forgiveness. It was probably the only opportunity I’d ever get, and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.