Her eyes rake down my body, lingering on my chest and the obnoxious tent in my boxers. I’m half tempted to cover it with my hand, but it’s already out there. No denying it. I try anyway. “Morning reflex,” I grunt.
“Hmm.” She doesn’t say more.
I don’t know whether I’m glad or disappointed. Embarrassed as fuck for sure. I pull on my jeans, grab my shirt off the floor, and book it from the room, calling, “Gonna make coffee,” as I flee.
In the kitchen, I toss the shirt on the counter, grip the marble countertop, and hang my head.
She was kidnapped yesterday, almost forced into a wedding, and ran for her life. I’m here to protect her. Not feel things. Not kiss those pretty pink lips that she moistened as she stared up at me as I covered her body with mine.
I scrub a hand down my face.
That was...
Close.
Wrong on so many levels.
Utterly tempting.
Madness.
I shove away from the counter and find my phone. Maybe to call Gray. And what? Confess that I’m losing my professional edge? He’d assign someone else.
My gut clenches. Denial rises up sharp.
No. Camille is mine to protect.
I’d never be able to rest, knowing someone else was responsible for her safety. What if they missed something? What if she was taken again? She has to stay with me.
I won’t let anyone near her as long as I’m breathing.
Gray can’t know that I’m compromised. I’d lose my job, and with it, Camille.
I’m not sure which one scares me more.
Lone Star was the only thing keeping me together after I left the military. Too many bad memories. Too much blood on my hands. Lone Star gives me purpose and the ability to use my skills to help people the only way I know how—by improvising.
Following strict rules gets people hurt or killed.
If I can’t work for a place with the flexibility I need, I’m afraid I’ll sink back into that dark place where the demons haunt me at night, and the sun never quite reaches me.
I reach for my phone again, this time to check the perimeter alarms and cameras.
There’s a red warning on the west fence.
I bring up the closest camera, but it’s offline.Ice slides down my spine.
I have to get to Camille.
CHAPTER SIX
BRONCO
I’ve been in firefights,ambushes, and on the run, but nothing has ever made my pulse race like sitting on my closet floor with Camille Whitaker.
Her breath brushes my bare shoulder as she presses against me, trembling slightly.
“How did they find me?” she whispers into the stillness.
