"Is that a proposal, Sergeant?" she asks, a small, defiant smirk playing on her lips despite the tears.
"It’s a warning," I growl, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. "It means from this second on, your pussy belongs to me. Your heart belongs to me. And your safety is the only thing I care about. You want to stay? You want to be in the line of fire? Then you take everything that comes with it. You take the monster."
"I want you," she breathes.
I crush my mouth to hers.
This is a raid. A claiming. I devour her, tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting the sweetness I’ve been craving since I rode away. She tastes like salvation. She tastes like home. I groan into her mouth, my hands dropping to her hips, pulling her flush against my mounting heat. I can feel her soaked center through my jeans, the heat of her branding me.
She meets me stroke for stroke, hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. She whimpers into my mouth, the sound vibrating straight down my spine and making my cock throb with a desperate need to be occupied by her.
I frame her face with my hands, breaking the kiss but keeping our foreheads pressed together. My breathing is as ragged as hers.
"Then you’re mine," I vow, the words scraping out of my throat. "Property of the Sergeant at Arms. The patch protects you, but I own you. I’m going to fill you so full of my seed that you forget Philly ever existed."
"Yours," she whispers, her eyes dark with a surrender that is more powerful than any command I’ve ever given.
I kiss her again, hard and fast, sealing the pact. Then I step back, the soldier taking over before I lose my mind and take her on the kitchen island while Maddie is in the next room.
"Get dressed properly," I say, my tone leaving no room for argument, though the heat in my eyes promises more later. "And wake Maddie up. We’re moving downstairs."
"We have a downstairs?"
"A safe room. Reinforced concrete walls. No windows. It was built for this."
"Shane..."
"No arguing, Bianca. The time for talking is over." I pull my phone from my pocket, my thumb hovering over Logan’s name. "I’m calling the President. I’m calling the boys."
I walk to the window, peering out into the darkness one last time. The black SUV is gone, but the feeling of being watched remains. The hair on the back of my neck stands up—the instinct of a man who knows the wolves are circling.
I dial Logan’s number. He picks up on the first ring.
"Talk to me," Logan’s voice is gravel.
"We have a problem," I say, my eyes fixed on the tree line where the shadows are deepest. "Costa had eyes on the cabin. Black SUV. They were waiting at the turnoff. The truce is dead, Logan. They saw the girl."
A beat of heavy silence. "Is she safe?"
I look back at Bianca. She’s standing by the stairs, looking up at the landing where Maddie is. She looks fragile and fierce all at once. She looks like everything I’m going to kill to keep.
"She’s safe," I say, my voice dropping to a lethal octave. "And she stays that way. Bring the boys, Logan. Bring the heavy stuff. We’re turning this mountain into a graveyard if we have to."
"We’re rolling," Logan says. "Twenty minutes. Tell Tristan to get to the ridge."
I hang up and turn back to my woman. My girl. My responsibility.
"Go get Maddie," I tell her, my voice hard. "I'm going to lock this place down. From this moment on, no one enters this house unless they’re wearing our patch or they’re dead."
Bianca nods, fear finally touching her eyes, but she doesn't freeze. She moves toward the stairs. She trusts me to handle the violence while she protects the heart of this home. I check the mag in my Glock. Full. I have three more in my cut.
Let them come. Let the Costas come. Let the whole damn world come for us. I’ll burn every tree on this mountain to ash before I let them touch a hair on her head.
I am the Sergeant at Arms. And this is my territory.
9
BIANCA
