The threat to Priscilla lit up all my senses the moment I intercepted that encrypted message.
I have connections—the kind you make when you've spent years doing the government's dirty work. The kind that give me access to communications no civilian should see. I wasn't even looking for anything specific that night, just monitoring chatter like I always do to stay ahead of potential contracts.
Then I saw her name.
"Target: Priscilla Marshall. Extraction scheduled. Client wants minimal damage."
My blood went cold, then hot with rage. Who the fuck was targeting this innocent bookstore girl? I dug deeper, called in favors, broke into databases I had no business accessing.
The answer was her father. Estranged, thank fuck, but still casting a shadow over her life she didn't even know about. James Marshall—professional gambler, amateur drug dealer, and world-class piece of shit who owed the wrong people too much money. Money he didn't have. But he had a daughter. A beautiful daughter who could be leveraged, ransomed, or worse.
I found her address that night. Watched her apartment. Learned her routines. The small bookstore where she works. The coffee shop where she sometimes sits alone, reading for hours, that little furrow between her brows when she's concentrating. The grocery store she visits every Sunday. The park where she walks when the weather's nice, always keeping to herself.
She's so fucking lonely it makes my chest ache. Keeping everyone at arm's length like she's afraid to get close. Like she's been hurt before.
Over my dead body will anyone hurt her again.
I wasn't planning on approaching her yet. Wanted to eliminate the threat first, but those fuckers moved up theirtimeline. I was parked down the street, watching her lock up the store, when I saw the van circle the block for the third time.
Game time.
I moved through the shadows, positioning myself between buildings where I could intervene if needed. When I saw them grab her, something snapped inside me. Something primal and violent that I usually keep chained.
Her screams unlocked the beast.
Taking down those amateurs was child's play. Hardly worth the energy. But seeing her—trembling against her car, those big hazel eyes wide with fear and something else, something that made my cock twitch—that was the real reward.
"You're safe now, little girl."
The way she reacted to that—fuck. A little shiver, a flash in those innocent eyes. She liked it. Didn't want to, but did. I could smell her fear, but underneath it was something else. Something sweet and ripe.
Then she tried to pull away, talking about police. About going home. Like I'd let her out of my sight now. Like I'd ever let her go again.
I shake my head. “You’re coming with me.”
When she takes another step back and starts to protest, I step forward, ready to chase her if need be.
"We're not going to your apartment," I tell her now, watching her back further against her car. "It's not safe."
"What? No, I—I need to go home. I appreciate your help, but?—"
"Those men weren't random. They were sent for you specifically." I step closer, crowding her space. Let her feel my size, my strength. Let her understand that resistance is pointless. "They'll have backup. They'll try again."
Her face pales, those freckles standing out across her nose and cheeks. Goddamn beautiful.
"Why would anyone want to kidnap me?" Her voice shakes. "I'm nobody."
"You're not nobody to me," I growl, then catch myself. Too much, too soon. "It's complicated. I'll explain everything, but not here. Not in the open."
Decision made, I reach for her. She tries to dodge but there's nowhere to go. I scoop her up like she weighs nothing—which she practically doesn't, just a handful of soft, sweet woman. She gasps, those perfect tits pressing against my chest as I carry her to my truck parked in the shadows.
"Put me down!" She pushes against me, her small hands ineffective against my chest. "This is kidnapping!"
"It's protection," I correct her, opening the passenger door one-handed. "And you'll thank me when you understand what's happening."
I deposit her in the seat, leaning in close before she can scramble away. Her scent hits me hard—vanilla and fear-sweat and something uniquely her. My cock hardens instantly.
"Listen carefully, Priscilla." I keep my voice low, controlled, despite the urge to claim those parted lips. "Those men were sent by people your father pissed off. They won't stop. They'll find you at your apartment, at work, anywhere you normally go. The only safe place for you is with me."
