Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5) (15 page)

His need for her was stronger. Immediate.

Fiona leaned forward, kissing his mouth, her tongue sliding past his lips.

Fuck, he needed a condom. Now.

He groped blindly for his wallet, just within reach on the stove. Fiona snatched it before he could. They broke apart while she flipped the leather open and plucked out the foil packet he’d stuck in there earlier.

She ripped the packet open and he plucked the condom from her fingers, rolling it on without missing a beat. This, right now, couldn’t wait.

Fiona seemed to sense his urgency. They were in tune.

He grasped her knees, pulling her to the edge. Her hand wrapped around his cock, guiding him even as their mouths met. He felt her heat, so good his toes curled on the tile. Her nails sank into his shoulder, urging him closer. He thrust, sinking into her.

“Fuck.” He groaned and rested his forehead against hers.

His gaze dropped to where their bodies joined as one. His reaction to her was wholly primal and out of character, but there was no fighting it. Not now, not until she was safe. Until then, he’d fuck her like he was born for it, and pick up the pieces later.

“Marco.” She squirmed, her heels driving into his ass, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Hold onto my shoulders.” He slid his hands under her knees and grasped the counter top wedging her open wider.

She looped her arms around his neck, staring deep into his eyes. He tended to avoid looking at her in these moments, shying away from what lurked in her gaze, but not this time. He needed it, to know what she felt, that she wanted him. And this. He was lost in this turbulent ocean and she was the only point of guidance.

He withdrew and thrust, watching the way her eyes lost focus, her mouth working soundlessly. Her skin flushed, clear to her nipples.

Sex wasn’t just sex with her. He’d lied to himself, told himself it was the deception, the guilt, but it was more than that. It was her. The way she lived without fear of falling. How she picked herself back up. The tenacity. He’d been stupid to take her on, to think he could do this—be with her—and remain unmarked. The reality was, she’d branded herself on his soul with a look. A touch.

“Oh—Marco!” She threw her head back, clinging to him.

The sound of their bodies joining, the slick kiss of skin on skin and their labored breathing were intoxicating, driving him on. Her ass lifted off the counter with each thrust.

“Look at me, damn it.” His voice was more growl than anything else.

Her eyes snapped open, the pupils so large he could fall into their inky darkness.

Fiona whimpered and her body trembled.

“Keep looking at me.”

It was important. Why? He didn’t know, but he had to see this.

He rested his forehead against hers, pumping into her tight, hot pussy.

Marco roared, the orgasm sudden and sweet. She clenched around him, her arms and legs tightening, driving him deeper, holding him while he spent himself.

He squeezed her to him, cradling her head against his shoulder.

What was he doing?

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She should just be another girl, but she wasn’t.

Fiona had come to matter to not just him, but his family. They’d shared meals, shopping, heck, even Mindy was coming around where Fiona was concerned.

What had he done?

What could he do?

What happened next?

Scott picked up the
phone and hit redial.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, eaten, or pissed, but at least he had something.

“What?” Lila’s tone was cool. Composed.

“I think I found her.”

“And?”

“And shit has hit the fan.”

“There are rumors NueEnergy is being bought out.”

“Yeah.”

“One of their executives was murdered.”

“Yup.”

“What the hell is going on, Scott?” There was the crack he’d expected, a tinny uptick in her tone.

“Do you know who Randy ‘Savage’ Dillon is?” Scott scrolled the length of the document, then back up.

“No.”

“He’s a former Army Ranger. Bad dude. Went merc, now he works for this other company.”

“What does that mean to us? What about Fiona?”

“Randy hired a team of mercs with a reputation for militant activity. They’re on half a dozen watch lists.”

“And?”

“And they’re supposed to track down and kill Fiona.”

“Why—how do you know this?” Lila’s cool was gone.

“I’ve got connections.” Mostly, he knew how to hack email, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Get to her first.”

“That’s the problem. I need backup. Give me three of your guys and I’ll be able to get her, but it won’t be easy. She’s with this guy, a real badass former-SEAL with a very redacted record.”

The line went silent for a few moments.

“Scott…I don’t want to know how you know these things.” She cleared his throat. “What’s his name?”

“Marco Benally.” A name Scott hated.

“I’ll look into him and get back to you in an hour.”

“She might be dead in an hour.” And if she died, that meant Scott couldn’t kill her.

“What makes you say that?”

“Randy’s people can’t find them. If this guy has the kind of skills to keep her off the grid, then he wants something. He’s bad news. And I bet he has help.”

“…again, I don’t want to know how you know these things. I’ll be in touch.”

Lila’s hands shook.

She hung up the phone and turned toward her computer.

Marco Benally.

She didn’t know the name, but she had a bad feeling about it. Probably not the same kind as Scott though.

Her fingers flew over the keys. It was late, but maybe…just maybe a few of her old so-called friends were awake.

The minutes ticked by.

She raked a hand through her hair.

Why had she ever gone into the private sector? It was so much more cut-throat than working for the CIA, something she hadn’t believed was possible.

Her phone rang, the number
Unknown
.

“Hello?”

“Lila, what the hell?”

“Hello, Paul.” She eased back into her chair. This was good. Paul had always liked her, invited her out for drinks. He was flirty without being a creep. She was pretty certain she could weasel information out of him.

“Why do you want to know about Marco Benally?” Paul didn’t sound anywhere near as happy to talk to her as she was him.

“He’s involved with something I’m working on.”

“Are…are you back?” Paul’s voice went up, disbelief tinging his words.

“No.”

“Then...Marco Benally was involved with the Tank Project. I thought—Lila, the last I heard, you were running security for some corporation.”

“I am.” She swallowed. The Tank Project… That was the stuff of nightmares. If Fiona was under watch by the program… If she had something they wanted… They were all dead. “Is Marco
active
?”

“No—Christ. He was support, not a Tank.”

“Oh.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Talk about shitstorm. She slouched in her chair, her spine rubbery.

“What’s going on, Lila?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you.”

“Lila…”

“I just needed to know who Marco was.”

“He’s bad news. They cut him loose from the Tank Project after the Luga incident. After…you know. Fuck, I shouldn’t tell you any of this.”

“I appreciate the information, Paul.”

“What are you involved with?” He pitched his voice lower. “If I can help…”

“Let me know if a desk comes available, huh? It’s rough out here.”

“Sure thing. I’ll ask around.”

She hung up and rubbed her face.

The Tank Program was the stuff of nightmares. She’d only been involved on the fringes, aware of its presence, but nothing more. She’d seen enough to know that she didn’t want to be part of that. From time to time she’d heard about what they did, but her work had kept her out of the thick of it. And now, here it was. Practically in her lap.

At least the Tanks were gone. Dead. Eradicated. Whatever had taken their place wasn’t any of her concern. She didn’t want to know.

And Fiona… Lila wasn’t given to emotional urges, but she felt for that woman now. She likely had no idea what she was caught up in.

Scott had to get Fiona away from Marco. For her own safety. The people connected to the Tank Program weren’t stable. Whatever it took, they’d rescue that poor woman and shut NueEnergy down before something worse happened. After that, well, maybe she’d go back to the CIA. At least there her alliances were obvious. Out here, in the corporate world, it was a lot murkier.

15.

Fiona hunched over in
her seat, the phone pressed to her ear. Marco had given her the disposable cell phone to contact him, but she had to at least try to catch someone in the Marshall’s office today. There hadn’t been any response to her last attempt to speak to someone and she was at her wit’s end.

After today she’d be cut loose from the only job she’d known since beginning this life. So much of who she was tied directly into her job. Without it, she wasn’t sure who or what Fiona was. But she couldn’t stay here, and she couldn’t leave without trying to do…something.

The call went to the mailbox, which was full. Just like it’d been half an hour ago when she got on the bus.

Figured.

She sat back and checked her watch.

Typically, she was one of the first people in the office, but given Marco’s concerns, she was going in late. Besides, all she was doing was showing up, handing in her notice and the laptop, and leaving. She’d meet Marco down the street where he’d be in case she ran into any trouble, and that was that. And here she’d thought that Nova was the worst thing she’d ever faced. This was…not on the same level, but bad all the same.

The bus eased to a stop and she stood, gathering her things and filing out with the other passengers.

They’d debated whether or not Marco should drop her off, or if she should maintain her normal schedule and route. In the end she’d won that one, somewhat.

She glanced at the back of the bus where Ghost sat, his face obscured by a hat, sunglasses and a newspaper he was supposedly reading. Marco was out there somewhere in his truck, and soon, this would be over. That’s what she had to tell herself.

Fiona’s feet hit the sidewalk. She set a brisk pace, both because she wasn’t a fan of being late and—what if someone was following her? She swallowed and turned her head, peering out the corner of her eye.

She wouldn’t know what being followed looked like, but something was very wrong. Maybe it was her?

One foot in front of the other.

She cut through a spacious courtyard between buildings. A few people were out enjoying breakfast and coffee. On the other side she took a left, following the sidewalk.

Before today, she’d never noticed how remote it was on this street.

The skin between her shoulder blades prickled, as though someone were aiming at her, or following, or watching, or…she didn’t know.

Fiona jogged across the road and into the parking garage attached to NueEnergy.

She glanced at the security camera and swallowed. They’d always made her feel safe. Until today. Were the bad people Marco said were out there watching her? Were the security cameras spying on her?

Just a little while longer and she’d be free.

She wouldn’t be jumping at her own shadow if it weren’t for Marco. What if he was wrong? What if someone wasn’t following them last night? What if her house wasn’t being watched? What if George’s death was a terrible accident and nothing more? The thought hit her out of nowhere.

All she had to go on besides the evidence of Scott’s betrayal was Marco’s word.

What if…what if he was wrong…?

She sucked in an easier breath, only to have her stomach knot up.

If Marco was wrong, then what did that say about him? She’d given him unrestricted access to her life. She’d slept with him. Was falling for him. And he might be tilting at windmills for all she knew.

God, this was a mess.

She needed to clear her head.

An SUV took the turn too fast and she threw her weight back, more glad than ever she’d opted for sensible flats and trousers today.

“Hey!” She glared at the fancy vehicle. People were always cutting through the bottom level and not watching where they were going.

The vehicle screeched to a stop.

She froze.

The passenger doors opened. A man with a shaved head stared at her.

Shit.

The bad feeling was staring her straight in the face.

Marco was right.

She backpedaled, dropped her satchel and whirled around.

Another vehicle, this time a late model pick-up truck, barreled down the aisle, tires squealing.

Ghost and Marco jumped out—she’d never been so glad to see them.

Baldy grabbed her roughly by the arm. She hauled back and kicked, but the bastard didn’t so much as flinch.

“Help!” She screamed.

NueEnergy might control the security cameras and these men, but they couldn’t control everyone.

“Shut up.” Baldy jerked her against her chest, one hand closing over her mouth.

Baldy’s friend went sailing past them into the concrete support, face bloodied. Baldy turned, hauling her toward the SUV, except Marco was between them.

“Let her go,” Marco said.

“Mind your own business, buddy. This here is between my wife and I.” Baldy jerked her closer.

“Let go of me.” She kicked, but she might as well have been fighting a statue for all the good it did her.

Ghost was on the other side of the truck with one hand wrapped in one guy’s shirt and delivering a kick to another. The one who’d face planted into the column groaned and pushed up.

Marco charged. Baldy tried to side-step, pulling her with him. Marco hit them both, grappling with the man. She went rolling to the floor, knocking her knees and elbows on the concrete.

“Come on.” More hands grasped at her, hauling her to her feet.

“No!” She thrashed.

“Fiona! Come on.” Ghost shook her.

It was Ghost.

Relief was short lived.

Marco and Baldy traded heavy, hard blows.

Ghost’s grip was tight and firm. He sprinted towards Marco’s truck, shoving her across the bench seat into the passenger side.

“Wait—Marco!” She pushed at Ghost, but he only slid her farther across the truck.

She stared in sick fascination as Marco held Baldy against the hood of the SUV, one punch after another landing against the guys’ midsection, chest and face.

Two more were on the ground where Ghost had been.

The fourth was standing, but not very well. His face didn’t look right.

Ghost shifted the truck into gear and honked.

Marco let go of the guy, and in two strides was on her side of the truck. He jumped in as Ghost peeled out.

Fiona’s hands shook and she tasted bile on the back of her throat. Marco’s arm around her waist kept her from sliding into Ghost. They wove through traffic, both men glancing behind them. They spoke, but she couldn’t make out their words.

It was all too much.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Fiona? Fiona, breathe, sweetheart.” Marco’s hand rubbed her back.

Her throat was raw. She glanced around the cab, surprised to find they were exiting the highway. Nothing was familiar.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Crawl over my lap. I need to take the wheel.” Marco grasped her by the waist and guided her onto and over his lap.

Ghost pulled the truck into an empty lot, the boarded up windows of an old shopping strip staring sadly back at them, and got out. He pushed his hands into his pockets, hood up, and strolled away from them, as if nothing were happening.

“Where’s he going?” She stared at Ghost’s back. Not once did he look back at them.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Marco, what’s going on?”

“Seatbelt,” he said again, sharper.

She fumbled with the belt a few times until her shaking hands secured it over her lap.

“Marco…” She needed…something. Answers. “My bag!”

“It’s gone.”

“But…my work laptop…”

“Seriously, that’s the least of our worries right now.”

She looped her purse strap over her head and shoulders, letting it drop into the seat. The Marshalls would freak once news of this reached them. If it did. She’d tell them, if they’d listen.

“What’s going on, Marco?” She held onto the seatbelt with both hands.

“Ghost is going to get us a new set of wheels. After that, we’re going to find some hole in the wall place to stay tonight and figure some shit out, I promise.”

“We should go to the police…”

“Check your phone.”

“What?”

“Check it.”

She pulled out the disposable cell phone. It buzzed, which was weird. No one had this number. She looked at the alert message and her stomach dropped.

MISSING PERSON ALERT issued for kidnapped woman in Denver, Colorado.

They had Marco’s truck down to the license plate number.

“No, that—that’s not—no.” She stared at the alert.

Marco was right. For one, short moment she’d doubted him, wondered if he was paranoid or crazy, but he’d been right. She didn’t know what kind of people she’d worked for, but they were bad news.

Marco hauled their things
into the dump of a motel. They’d gone thirty miles south of the highway to a sleepy little town after Ghost had boosted them a four wheel drive truck and changed the plates. Fiona was holding it together, but barely.

He needed to get her changed, her hair up, something to disguise her appearance.

Things had gone to shit pretty fast. He’d known going back to Denver was a mistake, but he hadn’t known how to tell Fiona without admitting his guilt.

This was all his fault.

Fuck.

“Marco…”

She stood between the two queen beds, remote in her hand.

The news played the security tape loop on repeat.

There was Fiona, walking toward the camera. The video glitched, and then the truck was there, Ghost was pushing her into the cab…

Son of a bitch, they’d worked fast.

Fiona sat down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped.

Whoever was behind this would trace the truck back to his dad if Ghost didn’t get ahead of this fast enough. He and Ghost had known someone, either NueEnergy or the people Scott were working for, would do something. Marco’s bet had been on intimidation, sending some numbskull to harass her. An abduction was a whole new kind of bad. And now they wanted to peg Marco and Ghost as the kidnappers. Connecting this mess to his family was the last thing Marco wanted. Fuck. And then what happened when the government got wind of Ghost’s involvement? Marco didn’t know the particulars of how Ghost extracted himself from his previous line of work, and he didn’t want to know.

“What are we going to do?” Fiona turned toward him. “Talk to me, please?”

He sat down on the other bed facing her and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

What did he tell her? Where did he start?

“We are in deeper shit than we realized,” he said, stalling while he did some mental gymnastics. How long until the cops and news connected him to this?

“You think?”

“NueEnergy is bad news. I…I knew they were doing illegal dumping, we just couldn’t prove it. Fiona, I had no idea things were this bad.”

“Is all of this over dumping? I mean…what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Ghost is going to work on it. We are going to figure this out together.”

Her burner phone buzzed again.

She’d been trying since they switched trucks to get the Missing Person Alert to shut-up, but each time it just kept buzzing up a storm.

“It’s almost dead.” She made a face and reached into her phone, pulling out a long, orange thing.

“What the hell’s that?” he asked.

“It’s a battery pack. Scott got it for me so I could keep…my phone…charged…” Her lips parted, her eyes went round.

Something was clicking. He could practically hear the gears in her head whirling faster than he could get traction.

He didn’t like this one bit…

“Fiona?”

“Where’s my laptop? My personal one?” She dug her fingernails into the casing and pulled, but nothing happened.

“What do you need?” He grabbed the laptop bag and opened it.

“The roll of tools.” She reached in and grabbed a black roll and laid it out on the bed.

Fiona snatched a tiny screwdriver out of one slot and went to town on the battery pack.

“Come on, come on…” She muttered.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Scott called me…he called me Sunday, saying he wanted the battery pack back, that it was his. But! He gave it to me. Because he got pissed that I’d let my phone die and that he couldn’t get a hold of me, or he’d want to charge his phone while we were at dinner. Why would he want it back? Why would he even try to get it back after…after everything else?”

Fiona crossed to the small table and turned on the lamp. Her fingers were nimble and quick. One screw after the other came off, and then the casing slid apart easily. She sat back, staring at the components.