Next to the injured man, Jared looked like the pirate he’d once been. Deadly, pissed, and lacking in mercy.
Tears filled the guy’s eyes. “Her. I was hired to shoot her.” He jerked his bleeding head toward Ronni.
She winced. That was going to get the guy hurt, without question. “Who hired you?” she asked, keeping her distance. His eyes pleaded with her for help, and she steeled herself. He’d tried to kill her.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Marcel asked for my help. He got away.”
“Marcel who?” Jared asked, shaking the guy.
“Johnson. One-twenty-five Newark Street,” the man said, almost eagerly. “He was a buddy of a cellmate I had in prison. We met up last week, and he hired me for the job—but I have no idea who hired him. That’s all I know. Honest.”
“Okay.” Jared snapped his neck.
Bile rose in Ronni’s throat, and she swallowed it ruthlessly down. Her vision went black. Oh, God. Jared had just killed the guy without a second thought. As she tried to regain her balance, she watched him shove the body back into the car.
Dizziness attacked her, and her ears turned hot. Blood rushed through her veins. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body fell. The last thing she heard was Jared yelling her name.
Chapter 8
Jared finished going through the immaculate and organized files in Veronica’s desk. She’d done a thorough job of working her own case, complete with a massive suspect list.
Yet one by one, she’d crossed them off.
She was too sweet to see that somebody had wanted her dead. He looked over to study her sleeping on the sofa. The woman breathed easily, and more tingles cascaded from her as her body continued repairing itself.
When she’d fainted, he’d nearly lost his mind. What had he been thinking, allowing her out of the apartment and into danger when she was still healing? As a mate, so far he sucked.
Being a pirate had been so easy. He’d taken over a ship, pillaged it, and sent its occupants home. If there had been women, he’d invited them to stay, but if they wanted to go home, he’d secured them safe passage. While often they wanted to return home, he’d had more than a couple stay with him for a while.
Oh, he’d always compared them to Ginny’s gentle beauty, and they’d always been temporary.
Yet when he compared Veronica to Ginny, his blood surged. Veronica was spirit and defiance, and she brought something out in him that felt energized. Absolute. Primitive.
As a young man, barely more than a boy, he’d loved how strong Ginny made him feel. How needed.
Yet now he admired Veronica’s strength, even if she didn’t realize how fragile she could be. His feelings were darker…more powerful now. What the hell did that all mean?
More importantly, how was he going to keep a mate safe who didn’t want to be kept safe?
Breaking her wasn’t an option, and taming her would take centuries.
Unless she tamed him. He grinned.
She blinked awake. “Your grin gives me pause,” she whispered, pushing hair off her forehead.
“So you do have an ounce of self-preservation,” he returned, his heart warming that she’d awakened.
She rolled her eyes and sat up. “You broke that guy’s neck.”
“Yes, I did,” he said evenly. “If there’s a threat to you, they die.” There weren’t any softer words to use, so he didn’t bother searching for any. “Realize and accept that now, because it’s not going to change.”
“I don’t need you fighting my battles.” A slight bruise covered her chin from when he’d tackled her to the ground.
“That’s unfortunate.” He leaned forward, making sure he had her absolute concentration. “I understand your need to prove yourself, even though your father is dead. I get it. And I even sympathize with it. However—” He held up a hand as she started to protest. ”I’m not on board with you putting yourself in danger because of that need. Get over it, take care of it, and knock it off.”
“Or what?” she snarled, her lip twisting.
He blinked. His chest heated, spiraling out. “Oh, baby. You are not strong enough yet to challenge me.” Putting warning into his tone, he kept her gaze until she blinked. “I enjoy your spunk, but stop pushing.”
