“I see.”

  She didn’t.

  I drove up to the pretentious house. “Nonnegotiable—when I text you, reply.”

  “Will you do the same?”

  Jesus. Just when I didn’t think this woman could gut me any worse. “Of course.”

  “All right.” She slid the phone into her pocket.

  I glanced at the house. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to say it one more time.” I turned to her. “If you come with me, I’ll get you out. I’ll stay by your side until you disengage from Bertrand, until we find your nephew and his mother, and until whatever fuckery Bertrand pulls with the Feds or whoever else is over. I’ll stand between you and whatever he has aimed. I will not leave your side until you’re safe.”

  Her head down, her left hand on her right wrist, she spoke so damn quietly, I barely heard her. “Then what?”

  In front of the asshole’s house, no idea if there were security cameras aimed at us, or if he gave enough of a damn to watch them if there were, I didn’t touch her. I wanted to, fuck I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to give that piece of shit one shred of ammunition to use against her.

  “Sabine, look at me.”

  No hesitation, she gave me her eyes.

  “Then you get to make your own choices.”

  Inhaling sharply, she quickly turned toward the window. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Conlon.”

  I took the hit like a blow to the chest, but I didn’t show it. “You’re welcome, Miss Malcher.” Releasing her seat belt, I unbuckled mine. “Wait there. I’ll walk you in.”

  She reached for the door. “There is no need.”

  “Your safety is my only need.” I got out of the Range Rover.

  Sabine

  “Your safety is my only need.”

  Dropping his sentiment like a bomb, the wreckage of my resolve to stay distanced exploded all around me as he got out of the vehicle, leaving nothing but his trail of rain-wet cobblestones and sandalwood-scented promises.

  The full force of everything I had ever wanted but never had decimated me.

  I did not want to get out of this vehicle.

  I did not want to go into an ostentatious house full of art I hated with memories I hated even more.

  I wanted to stay in this vehicle and smell the heady combination of forbidden masculinity and hope. I wanted to leave this place behind. I wanted to fly away and never look back. But my door opened, and there it was.

  The two proverbial sides of the losing coin he had mentioned as he held his hand out to me.

  One decision was bad.

  The other was worse.

  Even though I had only had sex with one man, I was not ignorant or inexperienced in the world of powerful men. I knew what kind of a dominant alpha Vance was, maybe more than I knew what Joseph was capable of. Vance was not offering me a life with him, not that it wouldn’t be utterly insane to even consider it if he were. This former Marine turned mercenary was only offering what he knew how to offer.

  Protection.

  And he was offering it with every method of coercion in his arsenal.

  Holding his hand out for me, his eyes intent on mine, he played his role so well I wanted to believe him. I wanted to lace our fingers and fall into the escape he was offering. Even more insane, I wanted to believe it would be the life I had always dreamed of—when I used to allow myself those kinds of wayward thoughts.

  Except this was reality, I did not have a choice, and my role was already written.

  Taking his hand, playing my part, I stepped from the SUV. “Thank you.”

  Not letting go of me, he leaned down like he was going to tell me a secret, but instead, he ushered in another dose of reality. “Your luggage will be here shortly.”

  His voice, his breath on my skin, his scent—oh God, the way this man smelled—I stood there stunned into silence, allowing myself one single heartbeat of a willing suspension of disbelief.

  Me. Him. Us.

  Inhaling every intoxicating thing about him one more time, I straightened my spine, my will and my resolve, then I pulled out of his grasp and stepped toward my prison.

  “Your purse?”

  His cell phone in my pocket anchoring me, I had forgotten one of the props of my sham of a life. “Yes, of course.” I turned to reach for it, but at the same time, so did he.

  Our heads came together, our gazes locked and my heart completely stopped.

  Staring at amber-green eyes I could not imagine never seeing again, taking in full lips that had touched mine, knowing how the shadow dusting his angular jaw felt against my cheek—I drank in every beautiful, stoic inch of him as the memory of his kiss flushed my cheeks.

  I wanted him to kiss me again. I willed him to.

  But like all the other parts of my life that no longer fit together, he did not close that final puzzle piece of distance between us, and neither did I.

  As fast as we had accidentally collided into this electrified space that existed between us every time we got close, he pulled back, coming away with my purse in his hand.

  I could not help but think how Joseph had never, in all the years I had known him, ever picked up my purse—until the day this man had walked into my life.

  The stark contrast of the men alarming, I reached for my Hermès handbag. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got it.” His gaze already scanning the front of the house, the driveway and the grounds beyond, he put his free hand on the small of my back. “How many security cameras are in front, love?”

  Heat radiating from his palm, I could not think. Were there any security cameras here? “I am not sure, but knowing Joseph, probably a few.”

  “Do you?” Vance scanned the side of the yard leading down to the intracoastal. “Know him?”

  I had never known Joseph, but I had always thought I had known what he was capable of. “Apparently not.”

  Guiding me up the front steps, Vance paused in front of the ten-foot-tall etched-glass and mahogany double front doors. “Were you ever close?”

  My back stiffened, and it struck me.

  Vance had never asked me about Joseph. Not if I loved him or if I wanted to leave him or any intimate details. It was as if he had taken one look at me, decided what he wanted, picked a course of action and executed it.

  In fact, he had never asked me what I wanted at all.

  He had assumed.

  Or maybe he had not assumed at all. Maybe the thought of what I wanted had never crossed his mind. Maybe he was exactly like Joseph, and that was why he was asking. And make no mistake, I knew what he was asking.

  He wanted to know if I was currently sleeping with a man more than twice my age.

  Blatantly ignoring him, knowing it would be unlocked because Joseph would have had Norma alert the staff that we were coming, I opened the front door.

  Vance

  Defiant, purposely ignoring my question, she walked into an unlocked, unsecured house.

  Trying not to have a fucking coronary, I shut the door behind us and stepped in front of her. My hand up in the universal gesture to stop, I took in the entire open-plan entry and living area in one sweep. “Wait here. Does the staff usually come to meet you?”

  “Not me, but they do for Joseph.”

  Of course they fucking did. “I’ll be back in a minute.” I caught her gaze and repeated myself. “Wait.”

  Cursing myself for not leaving her in the Range Rover, doors locked until I cleared this fucking place, I aimed for the sounds I heard coming from a kitchen.

  Two women, one older, one a cheap imitation of a nineteen-year-old Sabine, had their backs to me as I walked into the kitchen. “Excuse me,” I barked.

  The younger one jumped about a foot as she dropped a pot then spun around.

  The older one calmly turned and looked at me like she gave zero fucks that someone had walked in on them. “Can I help you?”

  “Anyone else in the house?” I demanded.

  “No,” she answered while the Sabine look-alike bit her bottom lip and checked me out. “And you are?”

  “Security. Why was the front door unlocked?”

  “Security for who?” she countered.

  “Miss Malcher. The door?”

  “Clearly I left it unlocked so you could waltz into my kitchen and demand answers to your questions,” the older one quipped. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have meal prep to tend to.”

  “A meal for who?” After the event, if shit didn’t go completely FUBAR, we were flying to Vienna.

  “I’m going to assume you’ve met Miss Malcher,” she hazed.

  Narrowing my gaze, I eyed her. “For the record, I appreciate the attitude.” The question was if she would stand up to that asshole Bertrand if Sabine needed help. “But I seriously hope you’re not about to insult Miss Malcher.”

  The older woman smirked. “No, but I am about to feed her. You too if you play your cards right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She turned back to her meal prep. “And for the record, you might not be awful either.”

  The silent one, still wide-eyed, quickly turned back around to help her companion.

  “Right.” I chuckled without humor. “Not awful. Lock the front door after I leave.”

  The older woman stirred something on the stove. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  Leaving them to it, I did a quick walk-through of the first floor, checking any doors and looking for security cameras, before making my way back to the front of the house.

  Standing exactly where I left her, Sabine’s gaze tracked me as I walked across the foyer.

  Not stopping, already having scanned the foyer for internal security cameras, I walked right up to her and braced my hands on either side of her head. “You never answered my question.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  She looked away.

  Grasping her chin, I brought her gaze back to mine. “I need to see your eyes for this conversation, love.”

  “Do not call me that,” she whispered, eyes averted.

  “Look at me, Sabine.”

  Her chest rose with an inhale, and she gave me what I asked for.

  I repeated my earlier question. “Were you ever close to him?” Was I off base about any of this?

  She blinked.

  I fucking asked. “Do you love him?”

  Turning, she made to escape under my arm. “I am not talking about him. This is absurd.”

  “Highly unusual, maybe from your perspective, but not in my line of work.” I talked to all kinds of people. “I ask the hard questions.” I dealt with murderers, kidnappers and terrorists. Bertrand didn’t come close to topping the list of deplorable human beings, but he fucking topped my personal list.

  “That is not what I am talking about.”

  I knew exactly what the hell she meant, but I pushed anyway, driving the fucking point home. “Isn’t it?” The singular truth was that she was avoiding the question.

  A foot away from me, she crossed her arms and gave me a look. One that said I was full of shit and I could take a fucking hike. A look that she completely underestimated. Whether she knew it or not, that look conveyed everything she wasn’t telling me.

  Add in the fact that she felt safe enough with me to give me attitude, and I was taking the win because I saw it in her eyes. She gave a damn what I thought, not Bertrand. So as absurd as she’d claimed this conversation was, it was happening, and I wasn’t finished.

  I stepped in front of her. “Have you ever met someone and thought, deep down, where it counts, that you know them?” Because I hadn’t, but I fucking knew this woman.

  “I do not know you,” she immediately retorted.

  “I know you.”

  Something close to anger flushed her cheeks, and the front she put on for that fuck Bertrand and everyone else in his world slipped further.

  “Do you?” she asked incredulously. “Do you know anything about me besides what I look like, what I am wearing, where I live or what I do at work? Because you have not asked,” she accused before her voice morphed from anger to hurt. “You have not asked me the simplest of questions.”

  Leaning closer, caging her in, I smelled the subtle fragrance that was an expensive perfume, but more, it was the woman behind it. The warrior who started her day by putting on a designer dress and heels, not knowing what kind of hell was going to be unleashed on her. But she got fucking primed, showed up and did what she had to do because that’s who she was. This woman was living with a conviction sentenced by the draw of absolute shit circumstances, and she still fucking showed up.

  “I don’t need to ask the simple questions, because I know you, pet. And if you recognize the nuances in my speech like you claimed you do, then you heard my tone when I said pet, and you know exactly what it means in this circumstance.” I cupped her cheek. “You know I’m staring at an extraordinary woman that, despite absolute untenable circumstances, shows up every day of her life and takes the deplorable behavior of a man so goddamn beneath her he doesn’t deserve to breathe her same air, let alone lay one word of anger on her. So if you want to lie to yourself and say I don’t know what kind of woman gives up her own safety to protect a child she met once, then go ahead, pet, tell yourself that. Do what you have to do, because unlike him, I won’t hold it against you. I know damn well what I’m looking at, and it’s a woman living in fear but doing it with every ounce of bravery she has.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, but I wasn’t finished.

  “You want to know why I’m doing this? You want a reason why I’ll take a goddamn bullet for you if that’s what it takes to set you free?” I leaned closer. “There is no reason.” Dropping my voice, I enunciated every fucking word of the truth. “It’s simply the right thing to do.” Holding her blue-eyed gaze, I gave her the rest of it. “But make no mistake, I’m not doing this because of what I see. I’m doing this because the woman holding her head up to fight another day is just like me.” Grasping her jaw, my palm on her throat, I brought my lips to hers. “I see you, Sabine Malcher, and I fucking know you—all the parts that count.” I slammed my mouth over hers.

  She didn’t hesitate, not one fraction of a second.

  Opening up like she was as starved for me as I was for her, she gave me permission to kiss her as much as if she’d said the words and asked for this. She knew. I knew. And sinking my tongue into the sweet heat of her mouth was never going to be enough for either of us.

  Tasting her once but then pulling back before the kiss even started, I dropped my hold on her. “I’ll be back for you in one hour. Be ready.”

  Without another goddamn word, I forced myself to walk out.

  If the truth didn’t convince her to take a fucking chance with me, nothing would.

  Vance

  Scanning my thumbprint, I walked into AES’s secure headquarters on the top floor of a Miami Beach high-rise. Bypassing the empty reception desk that was just for show because all of our support staff was remote and hidden behind firewalls even I couldn’t hack, I went straight to the command center.

  About to scan my fingerprint again to gain access, I was stopped by Alpha’s woman.

  “Vance, do you have a minute?”

  “Not now, love.”

  Alpha stepped out of his office. “Her name is Maila, and if she asks you for a minute, you give it to her.”

  “Adam,” Maila quietly chided. “I’ve got a handle on this.”

  Out of patience, I turned. “Instead of getting a handle on this, whatever this is, maybe you should get a handle on him.” I looked at Alpha. “I’m perfectly aware of the name of the only female operative at AES who also happens to be a former CIA agent. I also know where she shopped last week, how she likes her coffee, and what the fuck she wants to talk to me about right now, but at this moment, while I’m in the middle of a time-sensitive case, I don’t have a minute to spare, let alone explain a term of affection to you. Live with it.”

  Trefor’s tone went low and lethal. “Lose the affection, gain some respect.” Glancing at his woman, he tipped his chin and walked back into this office.

  I turned and pressed my thumb to the scanner outside the command center.

  “He’s not wrong,” Maila said to my back.

  The door clicked and I pushed it open. “He never is.” I walked in.

  The blessed woman followed me. “I saw Sanaa.”

  “Good for you.” Scanning the war room for November, I spotted him in his usual corner behind four monitors and three keyboards.

  “She said Ronan’s worried about you.”

  Halting midstep, I spun. “Do you know why I call you love?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Because I like you.” She was impenetrable, stood her own against Alpha and made everyone’s life at AES easier, but she didn’t get my fucking nuances.

  “You use that pet name with every woman,” she calmly countered with no intonation.

  “No, I differentiate,” I corrected. “There’s a significant difference.” But so far, only one woman seemed to have picked up on that. “The difference in this instance is that my affection for you is directly linked to the fact that you don’t get involved with my personal life.”

  Well trained by the CIA and life circumstances I wouldn’t wish on anyone, she didn’t even blink. “Understood.” She turned.

  “That’s it?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Respect is a two-way street.”

  I winked. “Understood, love.”

  In a rare show of emotion, she shook her head.

  I made my way to November. “What have you found on the breaches?”

  “Nothing good.”

  “I think I may know why Bertrand wants to get rid of her.” I just couldn’t figure out why he’d gone to such elaborate lengths instead of just kicking her out on her ass sooner.

  “Seven years,” November stated, coming to the same conclusion I had.

  “Right. She’ll be his common-law wife soon, if she isn’t already. She’ll get half of everything.”

  “I thought the same thing, and she would have been if New York state recognized common law marriage, but they don’t. I did find something else though. She’s on the board of directors at Harrington’s. There’s also a bank account set up in her name, with Bertrand as the beneficiary. Regular deposits have been made that indicate she’s earning a salary, but otherwise, the account hasn’t been touched.” November kept typing. “There’s no security footage of her at the bank and the account was opened online after she was made a board member.”