Mine To Protect (Mine #6) (3 page)

If Victor is around, then Zoe has to be close by.
The rumors he’d heard about those two had to be true. And the words he’d just heard the FBI agent say—damn, didn’t that guy realize sound carried at night?—they just backed up what he’d already suspected.

Victor Monroe had a personal involvement in Zoe’s case. That was why she was such a priority for him. Kyle knew exactly what Zoe looked like, so it wasn’t a big surprise to him that Victor was screwing her.

She was hot.

But she wasn’t a woman worth dying for. Victor should learn that shit, before it was too late.

As far as motel rooms went…Victor knew the place they were in pretty much counted as a dump. Definitely the no-tell-motel variety. The bed was sagging, the desk was scarred and wobbly, the door to the bathroom wouldn’t close completely, and the carpet was thread-bare.

A dump.

But…at least the dump had a clean bed. He’d made sure of that. Victor had paid extra for fresh bedding because he hadn’t wanted Zoe sleeping on someone else’s dirt. He’d wanted to make the best of the place for her.

He was always wanting to make things better for Zoe. A weakness, an
issue
that he had. But there was just something about the woman that got to him.

Maybe it was her eyes. The first time he’d looked into them, he’d almost thought he’d lost part of his soul. But then he’d remembered…he’d given up his soul long ago. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about…this.”

Zoe gave a faint laugh as she glanced over at him. “Don’t worry, Special Agent. I wasn’t expecting the Ritz.” She dropped the massive coat she’d been carrying around. “I’ve stayed in worse rooms. Better ones, too, but definitely worse.” She sat on the edge of the bed. It gave a long, low groan, and her eyebrows shot up.

He didn’t want her staying in that place—he would have fucking loved to put her up at the Ritz, but they were in the middle of freaking nowhere, and their options for a safe place to crash were severely limited. No questions were asked at this motel, and he’d been given the room on the far end—the most private one. One that also provided him with a view of anyone who might try to come his way.

A safe enough place, for the night. They’d been signed in under fake names, a married couple. And the motel sign-in log had been full of other fake names.

Celebrities. Dead presidents. Plenty of interesting names had been on that list at the front desk.

“So I heard you talking to your FBI buddies,” Zoe murmured. “He got away, huh?” She wasn’t laughing now and her gaze held fear.

He hated her fear, and he hated having to say, “Yeah, he was gone.”

She nodded. “So I guess he’s still on the hunt.”

He was…and other hitmen were out there, too. “The bounty on your head just keeps rising.”

Zoe glanced away from him. Her stare went to the little TV that was on a stand near the foot of the bed. Judging by the look of it, Victor figured that TV hadn’t worked in years.

“So many people hate Luther,” Zoe mused. “And they never seem to think…I hate him, too. I want him to pay, too. It’s not like Luther Bates will win the award for Father of the Year.” Her eyes closed. “Everyone knows he was a monster. So what the hell do people think he was like when I was a kid?”

He’d been curious about her life with Luther, but she hadn’t told Victor jackshit before. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and wondered if this was the turning point for them. Was she finally lowering the wall she’d kept up? Finally
trusting
him?

“At first, when I was younger, I wondered why he hadn’t married my mom.” Her eyes opened and she turned her head, meeting his gaze. “That’s what a five-year-old wonders, you see. Why don’t mom and dad live together? Is something wrong?”

He waited, silent.

“When I was ten, when I barely saw him at all, I thought…we’re his dirty little secret. He’s ashamed of me. Of my mom. So he keeps us away from everyone else. He doesn’t take us out to dinners or on trips. He doesn’t come to my school to see my plays because he’s embarrassed.
I’ve
embarrassed him. I’m a disappointment. That’s what a ten year old thinks.” Her lips curved down as sadness chased over her face.

You aren’t a disappointment. You could never be a disappointment.

“Then, when I was fifteen…I saw his face on the news. I wondered…why is my dad on the news? And then…then I heard what the reporter was saying. That he was a criminal. A killer. That he was some kind of suspected mob boss. My mom was in the room with me, watching the news, and she was crying. That was when I knew…”

When her voice trailed off and Zoe didn’t continue, Victor waited a moment, then pushed, “When you knew what?”

“That my father was a monster. My mother was always so careful around him because she was
terrified
of him. And he kept us hidden because…” Now her laughter came once more. Sad. Painful. “Because he knew we would be targets. He knew people would hurt us in order to get to him. That’s what his world was, you see. The
an-eye-for-an-eye
mentality ruled there. Survival of the fittest dominated. Good and evil—those concepts didn’t matter at all.”

“You confronted your father. About what he…was.” This was the part he needed. He had to learn what secrets Zoe had been keeping. And he suspected there were plenty of secrets.

“Of course, I confronted him. When you’re fifteen, you think you can change the world.” Her smile stretched. “You think that maybe you can still get the happy life you always dreamed of. You think you can change the monster.”

Nothing will change Luther Bates.
Victor had spent too many hours staring into that man’s cold, dead eyes. Luther was evil. Pure and fucking simple. Luther had ordered the deaths of so many people…and never even hesitated. “What happened?”

She pushed off the bed, rising to her feet. “Oh, the usual. My crime boss father instantly became good and charming. Everything that a girl could wish her father to be.” Zoe hurried toward the bathroom. “I need to shower.”

He moved, blocking her path. “What happened?”

She lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. “You’ve met Luther, haven’t you? Stared at him, face to face?”

Yes.

“I told him that he had to stop. That he couldn’t keep doing those terrible things.” Her breath whispered out. “At first, he laughed at me.”

“Zoe…”

“And then he hit me so hard that I flew across the room.”

Fucking hell.
Victor’s hands fisted.

“I got a concussion. Six stitches in the back of my head.” She shrugged. “Apparently, no one questions Luther Bates, not even his daughter.”

He wanted to touch her. So badly. He also wanted to beat the ever loving hell out of her father.

“My mother saw what he’d done. She’d always been there for him, smiling so brightly when he appeared at the door, only waiting to cry when he left. But that day, when she picked me up from the floor and my blood was on her hands, she stopped smiling for him.” Her voice lowered with each word she spoke. “She told him to leave. Not to come back.” Her lashes fell, shielding her eyes. “Luther Bates doesn’t like to be told no.”

He thought of Zoe’s file.
Fifteen. She’d been fifteen and—

Hell.

“If you read my file, you’ll know that my mother…she was…killed in a home invasion. That attack happened just a few days after she told Luther to stay away from us.”

Had Luther ordered the attack? Paid for it to look like—

“Two months after her death, Luther shipped my ass off to boarding school. Some fancy ass place where I didn’t belong. But at least I wasn’t with him anymore.”

Holy fucking hell.
Just what had happened during those two months that she spent with her father? He sucked in a deep breath and tried to figure out where he should push the hardest.
The mother. Start there.
“You had to know your mother’s death was suspicious.”

She gave a broken laugh. “Trust me, I knew plenty.”

Tell me plenty, sweetheart. Tell me.
“Did he ever admit it to you? Did he ever tell you—”

“That he had my mother killed?” Her voice was just a rasp now. Her lashes lifted. She gazed up at him, and there was so much pain in her eyes. “There was no need to tell me. The police report said it was a home invasion. But I was
there.
”

Tell me.
It was his job to get the truth from her. His hands were still fisted at his sides. Fisted so hard they hurt.
Touch her. Hold her. Take away her fucking pain.
Only right then, he was the one putting her in pain as he made her dig up her bloody past.

“My mother was one of the only people who actually loved him.” A tear slipped from her eye.

Oh, hell, I cannot handle her tears.
“Zoe…”

“I need to shower,” she said again, voice tight. “Please, I-I need to shower.”

You need to tell me. Give me nails to shove in Luther’s coffin.

She pushed past him and ran into the bathroom. She shoved that door closed—as much as it would shut.

Victor stared at that white door and its peeling paint. He knew he couldn’t press her anymore, not right then. He had a job to do—one he didn’t like. One Zoe didn’t fully understand. Getting her to trust him, getting her to confide all in him—yeah, that was the plan. The big order from up top at the Bureau.

But right then, Zoe had been through enough. She’d nearly died—right beside him—that night. Fear was still present, curling like a snake in his gut. He wasn’t used to fear. There were only two people in the world he cared about. Two people that weren’t family, not really, but fate and circumstance had bonded them so that they were
better
than family. Saxon Black and Jasmine Bennett. Though Bennett wasn’t the name she used any longer…Long ago, he, Saxon and Jasmine had forged a life together on the streets. Helped each other. Supported one another.

Kept each other’s secrets.

He’d feared for them before. Been worried as all hell about their survival. But Saxon and Jasmine
had
beaten the threats they faced.

And his fear had faded.

Until Zoe. Until beautiful Zoe Peters had come into his life. Until she’d been threatened. When he’d thought she might be dead in that SUV with him, something had changed. The fear had come barreling back, only it had been so much worse than any terror he’d ever experienced before.

The fear hadn’t faded, not completely, and he knew it was because Zoe still wasn’t safe.

Zoe was getting under his skin. The plan had been for her to connect with him. Not for him to feel this stupid fucking tie with her. But…

It’s there. Her pain hurts me.

He headed toward the bathroom door. He could hear the roar of the shower inside. He put his hand on the door. “Zoe, do you need anything?”

There was no response. His hand moved to the doorknob. Was she crying in there? Was she—

“Just leave me alone, Victor.” Her voice was soft and so very sad.

His hand stilled on the knob.
I wish I could, baby. I wish I could…but that isn’t going to happen.

***

Zoe needed clothes. When she’d been fleeing to the bus station, she hadn’t exactly stopped to pack an extra bag. Her priority had been to get away from the FBI agent, Russell Aiker, who’d been guarding her. So she’d pretty much vanished with the clothes on her back. Now Zoe stood in the middle of the bathroom, her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her body. The mirror in front of her was too fogged up for Zoe to see her own reflection. That last bit was probably a good thing—she didn’t want to look at herself right then.

After all this time, and, yes, looking in my own eyes is still too hard.
Because she didn’t like what she saw in the mirror. Didn’t like it at all.

Luther’s daughter.

Maybe she’d just put back on the clothes she’d worn before. She could do that. The long sleeved t-shirt and jeans would be fine for now. Far better to wear them than to prance around in front of Victor just wearing a towel.

That would be such a bad idea.
As bad as sharing a motel room with him tonight?
Because Victor had only booked one room. One room with one bed.

As if her night had not been bad enough.

She heard a sharp knock—one that had her head jerking to the right. Only the knock wasn’t on the bathroom door. The sound had been too distant.
Someone is outside of our motel room.

“Relax, Zoe,” Victor called out. As if he’d known she’d just gotten scared as all hell. “It’s my team.”

Good. Fabulous. His team. Not the current killer on her trail. And with more FBI agents there—their presence definitely meant it was time to put her clothes back on. She dressed as quickly as she could, not bothering with her shoes, but wearing her underwear, jeans and that t-shirt. Then she yanked open the bathroom door.

The group was waiting near the bed. Victor, looking confident and grim—his usual style. Victor’s dark hair wasn’t even tousled. His blue eyes glinted, and his broad shoulders were set with determination. Russell—he wore his suit, unwrinkled,
his
usual perfect style. Russell Aiker was a tall, handsome, African American in his early thirties. She actually
liked
Russell. And he seemed to like her, too. That was how she’d been able to give him the slip before.
Don’t make the mistake of being kind to me. I use kindness.

“Hi, Zoe,” Russell murmured, his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Glad to still be alive.” Her gaze slid to the right. Ah, a new agent. A woman with blonde hair that fell to her chin and brown eyes that were assessing as they slid over Zoe, lingering just for a moment on…

My bare toes.

Zoe wiggled her toes. Then she nodded toward the woman. “Hello.”
Hello, fresh meat.

The woman nodded briskly in response. “I’m Agent Lauren McDaniel.” Lauren straightened her shoulders. “I believe I’m here to take over watch duty.” Her gaze slid to Victor. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave tonight.”

Agent Lauren McDaniel was there to do what now? Zoe marched right into that circle of agents. “Sorry, but there is a huge mistake happening here.” She took up a position near Victor. She knew he was the lead agent in that room. And he was the one who’d made a deal with her. She wasn’t going with Agent Fresh Meat anywhere. The woman sure wasn’t about to become her bunkmate for the night. “I’m not in the market for a new guard.”

Russell winced a bit.
Right, sorry. I ran out on him last night.
She cast a quick, apologetic glance his way.

“Do you have a death wish, ma’am?” Lauren asked her, voice tight.