We lie tangled together, both panting, my cock still buried inside her, her legs wrapped around my waist as if to keep me there. I should move—my weight must be uncomfortable, my injuries are starting to throb again now that the adrenaline is fading—but I can't bear to break the connection. Not yet.
"Did you find out what you needed to know?" she asks finally, her fingers tracing patterns on my sweat-slicked back.
I nod, pressing my face into the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent. She doesn’t need to know the details.
Her body tenses beneath mine. "They're still coming for me."
"They can try." I lift my head to look into her eyes, making sure she understands the absolute certainty of what I'm saying. "But they will fail. No one takes you from me. No one."
The fear in her eyes fades, replaced by something that looks dangerously close to love. Her hand comes up to touch my face, feather-light against the bruise forming on my cheekbone.
"My protector," she whispers, and the simple phrase hits me harder than any blow I took today.
Because that's what I am. What I'll always be for her. The shield between her and a cruel world. The sword that strikes down her enemies. The wall that keeps her safe.
No matter what it costs me.
ten
. . .
Woodrow
I checkmy weapons for the third time in as many minutes. Glock 19 at my hip. Backup piece strapped to my ankle. Combat knife in my boot. Another tucked at the small of my back. Two flash-bangs and a smoke grenade on my belt. Excessive? Maybe. But when it comes to protecting what's mine, there's no such thing as too prepared. Tonight ends this. Tonight I eliminate the threat to Priscilla permanently. I've spent the day gathering intel, calling in favors, piecing together the puzzle. And what I've found makes my blood boil. This was never just about her father's debts. This is personal. Donovan isn't just some loan shark her father owes money to. He's James Marshall's former business partner, the one Marshall screwed over before disappearing with their shared funds. And now he's using Priscilla as bait to draw her father out of hiding. Using MY Priscilla. That alone is a death sentence.
Priscilla watches from the doorway of the bedroom, her arms wrapped around herself, those big hazel eyes wide with fear. Not for herself. For me. The realization still throws me, that she cares this much. That she loves me, despite everything—or maybe because of everything.
"Are you sure about this?" she asks, voice small but steady. "There has to be another way. We could go to the police, or?—"
"No police," I cut her off, softer than I would have a week ago. "These aren't the kind of men who fear badges and courtrooms. This ends tonight, the only way it can."
She crosses to me, her small hands coming to rest on my tactical vest. Such a contrast—her softness against the hard Kevlar designed to stop bullets. To keep me alive. To bring me back to her.
"Promise me you'll be careful," she pleads, looking up at me with those eyes I'd kill or die for. "Promise me you'll come back."
I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "Nothing could keep me from coming back to you, little girl. Nothing."
I kiss her then, pouring everything I can't say into it. How she's become the center of my world in a matter of days. How I'd tear apart anyone who tried to take her from me. How I never knew I could feel this way about another human being until she crashed into my life.
When I pull back, her eyes are damp but determined. "What do you need me to do?"
That's my girl. No more arguments. Just ready to play her part.
"Stay in the panic room," I tell her, nodding toward the reinforced door hidden behind the bookcase in my office. I showed it to her earlier, made her memorize the code. "No matter what you hear, no matter how long it takes, you stay in there until I come get you. The door will only open to my fingerprint or the code. You'll be safe."
She nods, swallowing hard. "And if you don't come back?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us wants to face.
"I'm coming back," I say firmly. "But if something happens…there's a burner phone in the supplies. One number programmed in it. Jensen. He'll get you somewhere safe."
Her fingers dig into my vest, clinging. "I don't want safe. I want you."
Christ, she undoes me with the simplest words.
"You have me," I promise. "Always."
I check my watch. Almost time. Based on the intel I've gathered, Donovan is meeting his new hired guns at the warehouse right now. But he's smart—he'll have a backup plan. And that plan almost certainly involves sending men here, to the cabin, to grab Priscilla while he thinks I'm occupied elsewhere.
