Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5) (18 page)

“I’ll think about it.”

Marco ended the call and stared down at the hole in his leg.

How had things gone sideways so fast? Why did Fiona matter more than his original goals? What did this say about him?

He ignored the messages from his boss. The admiral would chew his ass out, then demand he come back, and Marco would have to say no. Or, maybe Crawford had seen the news and knew Marco was involved. Either way, he would beg forgiveness later.

Marco stood and stretched. The twinge of pain was something he would need to get used to.

He picked up his stuff and checked inside his wallet.

Yup. The drive was still there.

He took everything out into what had once been his grandparents and then his parent’s bedroom. They’d done their best to preserve it. Especially the furniture. The bed frame had been built inside the very room. It wasn’t something that could be taken apart and moved without permanently damaging it.

Marco ran his hands over the deep wood carvings of the four poster bed.

So many memories.

He’d been a child, playing at the foot of his parent’s bed for years.

This was the home he and his siblings had grown up in. He’d always thought one day he’d call it his, or share it with one of his siblings. The way things were going, it’d be his sisters, their kids and him. The house was big enough for all of them. It wasn’t like anyone was expecting him to settle down and have kids of his own.

He glanced at Fiona sitting at the vanity.

Once, he and his sisters had been roughhousing on the bed and he’d broken a bottle of perfume his mother kept on the edge for some reason. It’d hit the tile floor and shattered into so many pieces. He’d cut his foot and bawled like a baby. Served him right, too.

He was the oldest. He should have known better.

Wasn’t that the story of his life?

He should have known better than to get mixed up with his mark. Fiona was more than an assignment or a goal. She was a vibrant, real person, and his heart did weird things when he stared at her for too long.

And now here he was, about to do the same thing to her he’d done once before.

“You want to use the bathroom?” Marco asked.

Fiona gasped and jumped in the old, rickety chair.

“Oh, my God, Marco.” She twisted in the chair, her lower lip pinched between her teeth. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, but I thought you might want to use the bathroom before I start stitching. It’s likely to get messy.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

She got up and walked into the bathroom. As trusting as a lamb.

Fuck, he was a piece of trash.

18.

Marco stuck the USB
into her laptop before he could have any more second guesses. A few clicks, and the deed was done before she’d even flushed the toilet.

How long until she found out about him? He could feel the noose. It wasn’t something he could escape, but hopefully she didn’t learn about it until she was safe. Until they’d sorted all of this and she was okay. Then she could hate him for all eternity as she lived out a long, happy life. Without him.

“How’s your leg?” Fiona’s hand brushed his arm.

He captured her fingers and brought them to his lips.

Marco shouldn’t touch her. She was too good for the likes of him. But for now, he’d take what he could get, because it would have to last him the rest of his life.

“Fine. How’s the hacking?”

“I’m still getting set up. I’m not as good as I used to be, so it takes me a while to get my bearings and figure out what I’m dealing with.” She ducked her head.

“You’ll do great.” He let go of her hand and limped back into the bathroom before he did something else he’d regret.

Stitching up his leg was about as normal as it got. Not that there was anything to do about the pain or the blood, but it served him right. He deserved to get shot, and he deserved to hurt for what he was doing. It was a sort of penance.

By the time he was done and got the bathroom wiped down, his head was spinning and he needed to lie down. Even the toughest, battle-hardened soldier had limits, and it’d been a while since he’d been the kind of combat-ready he was when assigned to Ghost. The admiral kept them fit and ready, but civilian work was a whole lot more standing around and
looking
bad than
being
bad.

Marco made it to the bed and flopped onto his back. The plastic wrapped over the mattress rustled under him. The box spring and topper would need to be replaced should the house ever be liveable again. It’d do for now.

He folded his hands behind his head and watched Fiona’s profile, her gaze intent on the screen and her fingers flying over the keys.

What kind of a life had she lived?

Before all this?

How much of what she’d told him was a truth? And how much was a lie? He didn’t deserve to know, but he wanted to.

Fiona sat back, slouching down in the seat and rubbed at her face.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve just got to let this password breaker run. It could take a while though.” She yawned.

“Let’s set a timer. Take a nap.”

The sun would be rising soon, and a new day would mean a lot more problems. He didn’t doubt the cops would be hot on their trail, and the corporate goons closer still. So long as they avoided an exchange of gunfire, he’d be satisfied. Keeping Fiona out of danger was his number one priority.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Fiona got up and flipped the lights off, circled the bed and crawled up beside him.

They didn’t have pillows or blankets, but they had each other. At least the house was well insulated, or they’d run the risk of hypothermia the way the desert temperatures dropped at night.

He reached out, pulling her toward him.

Until she found out the truth, he’d hold her. Yeah, he was a rat bastard for latching onto her like this, but he’d never been good at depriving himself of what he wanted. That was his way. Take what he want, and leave when he was done. He should be done with Fiona, that itch scratched, and yet it wasn’t.

What had Ethan said?

“What’s wrong?” Fiona whispered.

Marco kissed her brow. “Couple months ago, a buddy of mine died on the job. Usually what we do isn’t all that dangerous, but this job was.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Sometimes I think about the stupid stuff Ethan would say. He had a saying for everything, and he used to tell me I’d let trouble in through the front door…”
…if it wore a tight skirt.

Fiona had worn a body-hugging number that Friday at the bar when she’d approached him. Black. Pinstripes. With one of those slits up the back.

He should have known then she was the kind of trouble that would leave a mark.

“I’m sorry.” Fiona’s voice was heavy with sorry.

“Hey.” Marco turned his head toward her and bumped her chin with his finger. “None of this is your fault. It’s just a dumb saying Ethan would parrot at me. He had one for all the guys.

“What happened to him?” Fiona settled her head on his shoulder. So trusting.

“There was a bomb.”

“Oh, no… Did he…did he have a family?”

“Wife and son.”

“Oh, no.”

Marco didn’t want to think about Ethan’s widow. She was engaged to some knucklehead already. She’d never deserved Ethan’s devotion. The man had lived for his family, but he’d chosen the wrong woman to put on a pedestal.

“It’s the nature of what we do.” He smoothed her hair down then covered her hand with his.

“Is it worth it?”

“It depends what you think is worth it or not.”

“What do you think?”

“There’s risk with what we do. Not as much as there was when I was an active SEAL, but still risk. Look at tonight.”

“I feel so bad you got shot because of me.”

“Better me than you.”

“No way.” She curled her arm around his waist and squeezed.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been shot before. Trust me, it’s not something you want to experience.”

“I just…I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. Ever.”

“Sometimes that’s the hard part. Letting someone else guard your back.” He stared up at the ceiling. He could recite the names of the men who’d died doing just that.

“I don’t want to lose you, Marco.” Fiona’s fingers stroked his chest, her touch light, but it was her voice that was heavy.

He didn’t need her to tell him she’d fallen for him. He could hear it in her voice. She’d told him that was what she did. And…part of him wanted her to feel something for him. Something good. At least for now. Until she found out the truth. Until she hated him and cursed his name.

Marco cupped her cheek.

Yeah, he was an asshole. He’d never promised to be anything but that. It was who he was. And for the first time, he wished he was different. That he was better. That he was worthy of someone like her.

“You got me, sweetheart.” And she did. In a way he wasn’t prepared for, and he’d fucked it all up before he knew what he had. Figured, that was how it would happen to him.

Fiona stared at him for several seconds. He could feel the stillness of her chest, how she held her breath. There was a
zing
when they touched. Something he’d taken as simple human attraction. Now he realized, far too late in the game, that it was more.

He leaned in, sealing his lips over hers, stroking into her mouth.

Her sharp intake of breath was followed by her hand curling over his shoulder. He dragged her over his chest. Their tongues tangled. She bit down on his lower lip and he suckled hers.

“Marco…” The way she said his name, full of need and want, sent blood pumping straight to his dick.

They only had now. These moments together. The best he could do, was to make them count, and damn his leg.

He pushed his hands up under her shirt, cupping her breasts. She arched her back, giving him better access. He slipped his fingers into the cups, rolling her nipples between his fingers, marveling at how they changed from pliant to hard in a matter of seconds.

“Is this a good idea?” Her voice was strained.

“It’s always a good idea.” He pushed her shirt up over her breasts and lifted his head, wrapping his lips around one nipple.

“But…your leg.”

He rubbed his tongue against the hard bead, listening for her moan to hit just the right pitch—there.

So fucking perfect.

Marco yanked her bra up, exposing both breasts. He rubbed his thumb over the newly dampened flesh and directed his focus on the other, giving it the same treatment as the other. Her belly pressed against his side, her mouth open, eyes closed.

She was glorious like this. Completely free.

He reached down, fumbling with the button on her jeans. He managed to get that open and shoved his hand down inside her panties. She whimpered at the first touch to her clit. There wasn’t enough room in her damn jeans for both of them, but at least he knew she was wet. Ready. Wanting.

Marco sat up, forcing her back onto her heels.

Fiona’s eyes were glassy and dilated. The way she looked at him…

He’d never deserve her. But he could have right now.

Marco nudged her arms up and tossed off her shirt. She reached behind her, doing some sort of woman-one-handed-magic. The move thrust her breasts forward, the points jabbing straight at him.

“What about your leg?” she asked.

Oh. Right.

That.

“You’ll have to ride me.” He grinned at the sudden blush on her cheeks.

Yeah, he preferred to be the one in control, but he had a suspicion that an uninhibited, freely moving Fiona was a sight to see.

He folded his hands behind his head and watched her.

For a moment Fiona just sat there, eyes wide. The zipper on her jeans had slid south, showing off the edge of her panties. They were orange, a weird fact that lodged in his head for some strange reason.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

She licked her already glossy and swollen lips. Her hair was a mess. Some had come free from the ponytail holder, the rest was still up.

Fiona leaned forward on one hand and pushed his shirt up with the other. She continued to stare at him, the depths of her gaze weighing on him. For these few moments, he refused to feel guilt for what they were doing. Yeah, later he’d wallow in how rotten he was, but for now—this was right.

She kissed up his stomach and ribs, pausing to swirl her tongue over his nipples. It felt good, but not enough to have him moaning like she did. He grabbed the shirt and pulled it off, then lay back.

Fiona’s breasts slid along his skin as she made her way up his body. She licked and kissed his neck, then his jaw.

When had he fallen for her? And how?

Marco wasn’t sure, but it’d happened, and now here he was. He needed her in a way he wasn’t comfortable with, and if he’d been asked a week ago, it was a way he wouldn’t have wanted. But that was before Fiona. Now, he felt her inside of him when she wasn’t around, and wanted her close when she was.

He dipped his chin, hungry for a taste, but she pulled back, sitting up. Her smile was mischief and fun. He committed each mole and dimple to memory, because very soon, that was all he’d have left.

His heart ached, a new sensation for him. The last few days he’d misinterpreted it as heartburn. But now he knew…it was love. Something he was all too unfamiliar with until Fiona, and when she was gone…

No, he couldn’t think like that.

Right now, he wanted to be present with her. These moments might be the last happy ones of his life, and he’d make the most of them.

Fiona hooked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear. One side of her mouth hitched up, probably because he was tenting his shorts big time. But that’s what she did to him. Sure, she’d been tempting—all prim and proper—but when he’d seen her in that red bustier and black shorts…damn.

She pulled his underwear down. He lifted his hips, shifting here and there to help her get the last of his clothing off.

Yeah, his leg hurt, but that wasn’t his focus right now.

All that mattered was this. Being together.

Fiona slid off the end of the bed and pulled the band from her hair, letting the shoulder length strands fall free in a messy wave.

“Wallet?” She knew the drill.

“Bathroom.”

She turned, hips swinging seductively back and forth.

He could see the network of her different selves now. The fake-her, uncertain and shy. The hacker-her, competent and no-nonsense. The relationship-her, who loved being in love. They were all Fiona. Her different parts. And he wanted to shelter her, keep her safe, but how did he protect her from himself?

Fiona stepped out of the bathroom, completely naked. She had the condom wrapper between her teeth.

For these few moments, he’d make her forget. He’d drink her up. All too soon the reality of what was happening would crash back into them, but for right now—it was just them.

She tore the packet open, freeing the latex, and crossed to the side of the bed.

Her hot little hand wrapped around him, stroking his length like a woman who knew what she wanted.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts?” She peered up at him.

“Sweetheart, the only thing I’m going to feel is your tight pussy hugging my cock. Come up here. Now.” He reached for her, but she danced out of range.

The little imp.

She grasped his cock and rolled the condom on. A woman on a mission.