When he guards, p.15
When He Guards, page 15
“You’re working with Gray. You’re not a villain. You are not a monster. Just tell me. Tell me everything because I can’t walk in the dark with you.”
Oh, baby, I’m afraid that is exactly what you are doing…walking in the dark with me. And he wasn’t sure he could let her out of the darkness.
“In an undercover mission, you have to trust your partner completely. I need to know the real you.” Her head lifted. Those incredible eyes locked on his and tried to steal his sanity away.
“You don’t want to know the real me.” He reached out. Took the pot of coffee and poured the very, very dark and thick liquid in the mug for her. Only three-fourths full. No way did he want her burned again. Then he stepped back. One step, two.
She turned and put her back to the counter as she faced off against him. She brought the mug of coffee to her lips and lightly blew over the steaming liquid. “Try me.”
Okay. Fine. “I’m not an undercover Fed. You were right before, though, about the other shit I’ve done. I’ve been a criminal since I was a teen. Started in gangs. Underground fighting.” A roll of one shoulder. “Definitely did your profiling due diligence on that one. I loved the hell out of fighting. Also realized it was one helluva way to make some cash.”
“That’s why you were so good at The Bottomless Pit. You’ve had plenty of fighting experience.” She blew on the coffee again.
She had beautiful lips. I love it when she blows me. Yeah, fuck, he had problems. Mainly, the lust he felt for her was getting in his way. By getting in his way—obsessing me. Consuming me. “I had goals in mind, every step of the way. Gray tried to stop me. Hell, he wanted me to join the Marines like he did back in the day. Wanted me to get the hell out of the world he could see sucking me under.” His lips twisted. “Semper Fi,” he murmured. “That’s Gray. Through and through.”
“Always faithful,” she whispered as she cradled her coffee.
Yeah, that motto described Gray perfectly. Even when he should have turned his back on Cass, he hadn’t.
“That’s not you?” she asked. “That’s not who you are?”
Hell, no.
She began to lift the coffee to her lips.
“I’m resolute.” He was. “Determined.” Those were nice ways of describing him. The not-so-nice ways? “Bloodthirsty. Relentless. You were actually right before, when you were telling me how you’d profiled me. That I was an eye-for-an-eye type. I am.” She had to understand all of him. “You take from me, then I take from you, only I take everything. I entered this madness with my eyes wide open. I knew the risk. I knew the danger. I knew I’d lose every bit of my soul. But I had to do it. There were goals I needed to reach.”
“What were those goals?” Her head angled closer to the mug.
Tell her. You can’t hold back. Tell her.
“Cass?”
“My goals.” He rolled back his shoulder. “Killing my uncle.” Flat. “And killing my father. I’m happy to say that both goals have been achieved.”
Agnes spat out the coffee that she’d just put in her mouth.
Right. Yeah, he’d figured that might be her response.
“You’re staring straight at a monster, sweetheart.” He sent her a cold smile. “You fucked one, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh, and by the way,” Cass said in that deep and rumbling voice that was both dangerous and sexy, “Judas Long isn’t a threat to you. He never will be one again. He was found dead in his jail cell.”
She gaped at him. That cold smile that curled his lips. The dark, soulless eyes…
He’s wearing a mask right now. And she’d deal with that, along with the BS line of—
You fucked a monster…
—she’d deal with it all in just a moment. She would deal, really. But first…
She flew to the sink. She poured all the coffee in her mug down the drain. She rinsed out the mug and then she poured fresh water into it before she drank greedily in an attempt to get the worst taste in the known universe out of her mouth.
“Uh, Agnes?”
She put the mug on the counter. Her hands grabbed onto the edge of the sink, and she shuddered in remembered revulsion. “Were you trying to kill me?” A question that had to be asked.
A sudden, sharp inhale. “Judas was not working for me. You can’t think that. I would never send someone after you that way, and I made sure that he would not hurt you again.”
Oh, jeez. Did Cass order the man’s death? She spun toward him.
“As for my uncle and father…you’re lucky you never met them. Believe me on that. They are real monsters. The tricky part with my old man, though, was that he pretended to be good. He wasn’t. His smile hid the worst evil in the world. My mother ran away from him a very long time ago. She took me away with her. She protected me for my whole life, but I wasn’t going to let him stay out there, hurting other people. I wasn’t going to—” He frowned, as if just realizing something. “Why did you spit out the coffee? And, uh, you…you don’t seem overly shocked about my family history.”
She didn’t seem overly shocked because she was not overly shocked. “I knew who your father was. I knew what he’d done. I’m not shocked. But…he died in a motorcycle accident.” She’d read the report. “You didn’t kill him.”
“He was running from me. He lost control of the bike.”
That was not what she’d read. “Witnesses said he deliberately pulled over into oncoming traffic.”
“Because I was behind him. He knew what the hell I would do when I caught him.” He looked behind her. “The coffee…?”
“Yeah, I spit that out because it was horrible. What in the hell kind of coffee did you put in the pot?”
His gaze jumped back to her. “I…wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“I like plain black coffee. Basic, boring. It totally works for me.”
“I, uh, put scoops from all the coffee in there.”
All the coffee? She turned to the left and grabbed for the cabinet door. Inside that cabinet, she found some very, very old coffee canisters. With an assortment of flavors. Caramel. Mocha. French Vanilla. Two different kinds of Roast.
“You…like coffee,” he muttered. “So I put a lot of them in there.”
“I may be getting over the whole liking coffee bit.” She let go of the cabinet door and squinted at him. “You don’t make coffee a lot, do you?”
One shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. “Don’t drink it. So, no, I don’t make it. If I don’t drink it, why ever make it?”
Great question. And Agnes had what she believed to be a great question of her own to toss back at him. “But you tried to make it for me…because you’re a soulless monster who goes around killing his own family for shits and giggles?”
His arms crossed over his chest. He looked extra grim and broody.
“Don’t buy it.” She didn’t. “I don’t buy the scary image you’re trying to present. So let’s change things up, shall we?” She stalked toward him. Eliminated the small bit of distance and poked him in the chest with her index finger. “I’ve read your father’s rap sheet. His and your uncle’s. They were connected to murders, robberies, drug-running. They were far from what I’d call saintly.” More like they’d been tied to the devil.
“The Night Strikers were created by my family. I took them over when I defeated my uncle.”
“Defeated doesn’t mean killed.” A very important distinction. “I searched through every database that I could access.” And she’d been able to access plenty of them. “There is no record of your uncle’s death.”
Cass smiled at her. “Sometimes, it’s easier when there is no body to find.”
Scary. And truthful. It was harder to prosecute a murder when there was no body—or, uh, no victim. “What happened?”
He glanced toward the wall on the right.
She followed his gaze. Saw the big clock. “Are we expecting company or something?” She really needed to figure out where the hell they were. Other than in a safe house that belonged to the Night Strikers.
“Or something,” he muttered.
“If we’re about to have company, then maybe you shouldn’t have been offering to fuck me on the table,” she snapped. “Because I don’t like for strangers to walk in when I’m naked. Future reference note.”
His gaze returned to her. Glittered. “No one else will see you naked.” A vow.
“Well, good to know. Thanks.”
“But you are gonna have to get tatted soon.”
Wait, wait…what? She laughed.
He did not.
Oh, no, he did not. “Cass?” Husky. “Are you teasing me right now?”
“Do I look like I’m teasing?”
He looked like he’d never teased anyone a day in his life. “No.”
“Some undercover missions require a lifetime commitment.” His head tipped forward. “You’re about to commit to me.”
Uh, huh. “A tattoo.” She wet her lips. “Like the two-headed snake on your back? Was that a lifetime commitment?”
The darkness of his eyes had almost completely swallowed the gold. His jaw hardened.
Extra broody. Damn but that vibe worked for him. She stopped poking him in the chest and let her hand fall to her side. “Did you think I wasn’t going to get back to your cobra tattoo? To your membership in the Twins? I wish you’d just lay your cards on the table and tell me everything so that—”
“You’re getting tatted today. I’m the leader of the Night Strikers, and my lady has to wear my mark.”
“That’s…barbaric.”
“That’s the Night Strikers.”
Shit. “For full clarification, you’re the leader of the Night Strikers…and you’re in the Twins?”
A slight inclination of his head.
Her stomach knotted. “The worst of the worst are pulled to join the Twins.”
“Then I guess you’re looking at the worst out there. Like I said, you fucked a monster.”
“No, I fucked a man, and I had the time of my life doing it.”
His lips parted.
“Where, exactly, will I wear this mark?” She’d never gotten a tattoo in her life. The idea of needles going into her skin didn’t exactly fill her with never-ending joy. But, she was an FBI agent. She had this. Totally.
“Anywhere I choose.”
Double shit. “You get to pick the tat’s location?”
“I pick the location and the design.”
“This feels like a really crappy game show. Do not pick something I’ll hate.”
He didn’t offer up any promises.
Damn the man. “I should mention to you that I don’t like pain.”
He didn’t blink. “I’ll hold your hand.”
Was he mocking her? And had she just heard the growl of…motorcycles? Faint, in the distance, but…
Getting closer.
“Tell me that you aren’t a cold-blooded killer,” Agnes demanded.
“Thought you’d profiled me. Is that what your profile said? That I’m a cold-blooded killer? I mean, I did just confess to offing my own father and my uncle so…” A shrug. A shrug.
They weren’t talking about the freaking weather. They were talking about lives. “My profile says that you are highly protective. That you will do anything to protect the ones you believe belong to you.”
But…If he killed his own father, his own uncle…
The profile on him had to be wrong. Didn’t it? Was she completely wrong about him? What could have been real fear sent goosebumps rising on her arms.
His hand rose, and he casually tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Guess what, Agnes?”
What, Cass?
“You belong to me.”
“Just…just for pretend.”
His hand lingered.
“Did you order the killing of Judas Long?” Anger hummed inside of her. And plenty of fear, too. Because…What if I am wrong about Cass? What if Gray is wrong about him? Gray could be blinded because they were family. As for her, maybe she was blinded because…
What? Because he was good in bed? Because maybe, just maybe, she’d developed one serious soft spot for a man who was far too dangerous when she should have known better—
“Judas was dead the minute he went after you.”
Her mouth went dry. She swallowed. Twice. No good. Her mouth remained dry.
“But, no, sweetheart, you can let that terror fade from your eyes.”
There had not been any terror in her eyes. She was far too good at controlling herself. Wasn’t she?
“I didn’t have to order any hit. People know that he came at me in The Bottomless Pit. I have allies everywhere. He made a fatal mistake. The jackass tried to gain glory by shoving a knife at my back.”
“So…you didn’t order the hit?” Relief had her shoulders sagging. See, he isn’t really a monster. I was right about him. I knew it—
His callused fingertips slid down her cheek. Then her neck. His fingers stopped to rest right over her racing pulse point. “I didn’t have to order it. He was dead before I could make the call.”
The house seemed to shake as the growling of engines filled the air. Motorcycles were swarming outside.
Cass’s head leaned toward her. His breath blew lightly over her cheek. “But, for the record…” His words were almost a caress against her. “I would have ordered the hit on him in a heartbeat. Because no way did he get to keep living after targeting you.”
Yes, yes, he’d just casually confessed to planning to kill a man.
And, what? You’re gonna act all pristine and perfect when you were the one who held a gun to Judas’s head as you tried to get info on the Twins?
But…she wouldn’t have pulled the trigger.
She would not have pulled it.
Even without Malik’s interference.
She wasn’t that far gone.
Was she?
“Get your game face on, sweetness. It’s time to meet the crew.” His fingers lingered against her throat. “Remember, you’re mine.” Possessive. Hard. “You love me more than anything. And in a heartbeat, you’d kill to keep me safe.” A half-smile twisted his lips. “Just like I’d kill for you. In. A. Heartbeat.”
Game face. Game face. Game. Face. Agnes thought she had it on. She certainly hoped she was wearing the appropriate expression. She’d choked down some of the vilest coffee in existence before heading out because a woman facing a motorcycle gang needed some caffeine churning in her blood, even if the coffee tasted like hell itself. And, for the record, it had.
She’d also paused long enough to slip on the tennis shoes that had been waiting for her. She still didn’t know exactly who to thank for the clothes and shoes, and Agnes was basically just grateful to have the new goods.
Cass marched out of the house—what she now realized was a ranch-style house in the middle of pretty much…nowhere. She saw no other homes. No barns. Just some big fields that eventually gave way to thick woods.
And lots and lots of motorcycles. A quick tally had her realizing that twelve very large motorcycles—all equipped with very large riders—waited in front of the ranch house. The engines were still snarling and growling. The men still gripped the handlebars and stared straight at Cass. Cass, not her, even as she peered around him to try and take in the full scene.
Showtime.
It was probably a good thing that there were no neighbors close by. These guys and their motorcycles were loud. The air practically vibrated as she stood on the porch.
Cass lifted his hand. He closed his fingers into a fist.
Silence. All of the engines stopped at once. Kickstands went down. Boots touched the ground.
The riders didn’t climb off their bikes. They waited. Um, was she supposed to do something? Keep that game face on, woman. Act like you belong.
Cass reached back and caught her hand in his. He pulled her forward, positioning Agnes to stand right beside him. “We’ve got a new member.”
Some of the men wore helmets with face shields. Because of the shields—visors—she couldn’t see their faces clearly. Some had flipped up the shields and their faces—the ones she could see—were stone cold. She didn’t detect any hint of joy. They were definitely not pleased to have her there.
“She’s a Fed,” one called out.
“She’s mine,” Cass snarled back.
That shut the guy up.
She lifted a brow at the man who’d pointed out the fact that she was a Fed. Big, beefy, with thick, dark hair. A jagged scar slid down his right cheek.
“Not a new member,” another called out. A man with a lot of silver chains around his neck. Curly, black hair. Dark eyes. Gloves on his fingers. “She might be your lady, but she doesn’t ride with us. No initiation. No proving loyalty. You can fuck her—”
“Absolutely, I can, Hugo.” Cass squeezed her hand. “And I will. Thanks. But you will not ever disrespect her again.” He stepped off the porch and headed toward the motorcycles. “Now, if you don’t accept her, then you don’t accept me. Let’s cut the shit. I don’t have time to waste. Got business to handle. Enemies to eliminate. So if it’s coming, bring on the challenge, now.”
Wait, wait, what…what was happening? What challenge? She darted forward—
“Hi, there.”
Her forward dart was instantly stopped by Javion. He was just there. He’d hopped off his bike and lunged straight into her path. He caught her arms. “His fight,” Javion told her. “Not yours.”
She could feel her jaw dropping. “Why would he be fighting?”
“To keep you, of course.”
To keep me?
“Not like he just snaps his fingers, and everyone accepts a Fed. He’ll have to fight to keep you. If he wins, good news…you can both stay alive.”
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. “Back up,” she muttered. “If he wins…?”
“Um.” Javion glanced over his shoulder. The men had climbed off their bikes. At least four of them advanced on Cass. “Look at that. Only four challengers so far. Pretty sure he can take down four guys.”
At one time? She was pretty sure he could not. The four men included the guy with the scar on his face, and the one Cass had called Hugo.
