One to Protect (One to Hold Book 3) (18 page)

With a shudder, she moves to the side, quickly evading his hand. “Use a condom if you don’t believe me. I’m not getting pregnant.”

Anger flashes on Sloan’s face, and he steps in front of her, pinioning her. Her resistance is good, but it’s too soon. We need his physical evidence in her body before he hurts her.

“Don’t fuck with me. I’m going bareback, and I’m going where I want.”

Rage tightens my throat. The way he’s standing, blocking her face, she could easily be Mel facing down this bastard. It takes all the willpower I possess to stay in this small room and not go out there. I have to distract myself from the photos I’ve seen, the one of Jessica Black, the one of my beautiful bride’s battered face.

Patrick’s leaning over the counter near the door, and I see his hand twitch. From his tense stance, I can tell he’s ready to intervene as well.

“Look, I don’t have any lube.” Star steps to the side and around so her back is to us again. “I won’t ass fuck without lube.”

Rage burns cold in Sloan’s eyes. He’s controlled, but barely, and by the way his lips part over his teeth, I know tonight will definitely be the night.

“I know where to get lube.” He grabs her by the neck and spins her back to the wall, slamming her head hard against the plaster.

Star pushes against him, but it’s a clumsy effort. Patrick and I both know her skill at self-defense, and I wonder if she was injured just then. He’s back on her just as fast, and with a grunt, she pushes away again. Then she rears back and slaps him hard across the face.

The
SMACK!
echoes in the dark space, and my muscles tense up, ready to take action.

But everything stops.

Sloan steps away from her and turns to face our direction. He looks like a freaking psycho killer in the pale green light, and I swear I can see the wheels going as his eyes travel around the dark room.

Hidden in the small tech booth, neither Patrick nor I breathe. This fucker is smart. He wouldn’t have gotten away with his tricks so long if he weren’t. My stomach muscles tighten. I have no idea what’s about to happen.

He speaks into the darkness. “Where are you…” It’s a whispered taunt, and he takes a few steps toward us before whispering again. “I know you’re there.”

What the fuck?
How could he possibly know we’re here? Maybe he really is crazy. My heart’s slamming in my chest, and tension pulls an ache between my shoulder blades. Patrick’s tense; the air is crackling.

“You’re playing with me, using my weakness…” My brow lines as I listen to his sinister coaxing. “You know I was there. I got to her when you were gone, and I’ll do it again. I’ll do it every time, any time I wish… She’s
mine
.”

Anger blazes low in my stomach, and I hear him. His message is meant for me, whether he’s certain of my presence or not. It’s a threat he’s sending out, and I know the only way to answer it.

I’m ready to answer it.

He waits a few moments longer. Star’s got her back to the wall, breathing heavily, watching him. Finally, he shakes his head, looks down, and turns to her. “You’re a beautiful woman. Everything I like in one neat package.”

A line pierces her forehead, and I can tell she’s as confused as we are by this change.

“Thank you?” She tries breathy-Marilyn as she watches him pace back and forth in front of her.

“You remind me of a past lover. One I remember fondly.” He smiles, and a creeping dread moves through me. “Would you like something that belonged to her?”

Star blinks rapidly, and I can tell she’s on edge as much as we are. Is he talking about Jessica? Can she handle it if he is?

It doesn’t matter. I’m just waiting for an opening, any excuse to make my move.

“A gift?” Her voice only wavers slightly. “But we barely—”

“Something
everyone
might find interesting.”

Patrick and I exchange a glance.

Sloan’s hand goes into his front pocket, and all three of us brace ourselves. The quiet in our small room is broken by the soft scrape of Patrick’s gun coming out if its holster. My partner’s ready if Sloan pulls out a weapon.

But when we see what has in his pocket, Patrick lowers the gun.

Sloan’s “gift” is significant only to me, and for a moment, I stare dumbfounded at the thin gold chain with the tiny heart dangling from his outstretched hand. Melissa’s necklace. He
was
there, and he took it.

His meaning is complete. Message received.

In that moment something in me shifts, and two things happen at once: I lunge for the door, and Patrick throws his body in front of me, blocking it. The two of us are locked in a power struggle that I’m about to win.

“What is it?” Star’s Marilyn-voice floats to us, unaware of the battle happening behind the glass.

“It’s what I would give you if you hadn’t already stolen it.” Those words drop a veil of rage over my vision, and I’m about to throw my partner out of the way.

Patrick’s legs are braced against the door. “Derek! Don’t blow this,” he grunts in a whisper. “Don’t let him bait you.”

I’m so fucking insane with fury, I can barely see, but somehow I mange to find control. I know Patrick’s right. We don’t have evidence yet, and Sloan’s fishing. If he knew for sure we were here, he would’ve already bolted.

It takes all the willpower I possess to step away from the door. I’m breathing hard, and I pace the small room, waiting. Just waiting. Counting slowly as I step—left, right, left… One, two, three…

Slowly coming down.

“It’s a heart.” Star takes the necklace from him. “I stole your heart? Are you joking?”

“Are you?” His voice is ridiculing again, and he shoves her back against the wall, his forearm pressing against her collarbone and throat. “Do you think I’m that easy to play?”

Her face begins to turn red, and her eyes squeeze shut. His forearm is right across her esophagus, and a gasping wail comes out. We wait on edge as he rams his hand in her crotch working her hard.

“You think you’re going to fuck with me?” His face is leaned close to her ear, and it looks to me like she’s fighting tears. “You like that?”

In an instant, Patrick and I are once again locked in a power-struggle for the door.

“Let me go, Patrick, it’s too much.” My voice is a strained whisper. I could overpower him, but he stops me.

“She can get out of that hold.” Patrick hisses back. “Don’t blow the job. Just give her a chance.”

She snorts louder, and the dim light catches moisture on her upper lip. My chest collapses. I’m not sure she’s getting out of this, and I’ll be damned if I fucking let him kill her with us steps away.

“
Move
, Patrick.” I push against him once more, but his legs are braced. His entire body is levered against mine, and I can tell he’s using all the strength he has to keep me in this room.

Sloan’s voice cuts through our struggle. “You like that, don’t you. Fucking cunt. I have all the power here.”

Star’s face is turning purple, and I’m about to lift Patrick off the ground when we both hear her mumbling. We stop fighting and wait, looking intently through the two-way glass.

Sloan also pauses, loosening his pressure on her neck. “Are you begging, my love?”

She mumbles again, repeating the word in a whisper. “Sangria…” Her knees buckle, and she crumples to the floor.

Patrick is weightless in my grasp, and I realize he’s off the door, spinning toward it. I follow him through faster than Sloan can react.

My partner’s headed for Star. Light reflects off the gold chain in her limp hand. I’m headed straight for Sloan.

The last words out of the bastard’s mouth are. “What the fuck?”

In one practiced motion, he’s in my grasp, both my hands on the sides of his skull. Heat radiates between his skin and mine, and I don’t waste a second doing what I know to do, what I’m trained to do.

To end this.

To answer his threat and protect her forever.

A swift twist, and a deeply satisfying
SNAP!
travels through the bones of my wrists, up my arms, over my shoulders to my brain. I release him, spreading my hands wide, and Sloan Reynolds drops like a stone, dead at my feet.

My breath is coming in pants, and my arms lower to my sides as I stand over him. The entire room seems to have moved out from me, and I’m alone in a space looking down on what I’ve done. Waiting to feel something.

Waiting.

Seconds tick by on the clock, and at last it comes.

Satisfaction unrolls like a slow wave in my chest, unfurling like wings through my arms and legs, down my torso to my fingers and toes.

In my peripheral vision, I register Patrick moving swiftly, his voice low. “Fuck fuck
Fuck
. Okay. Well, good riddance. Now we’ve gotta act.
Fast
.”

I step over and gently take Melissa’s necklace from Star’s weak hand. She’s breathing more normally now, despite the tears trickling down her cheeks. Still, she’s not weeping. She seems to be recovering, rebuilding her own tough exterior, getting the shield back in place. I’m familiar with that.

Straightening again, I watch as Sloan’s body twitches like a dead snake.

Patrick helps Star to her feet and gives her a hug. “Enemy combatant handled,” he whispers and pulls off one of his black gloves. Handing it to her, he gives a gentle order, “Take this. Wipe every place you touched him, and get those pants good and down, soldier.”

I can’t seem to move as they work. It’s not out of guilt, because I know with every ounce of certainty I possess I’d fucking do what I just did again and again.

A strong hand grips my shoulder. “Hey. Snap out of it and get the fuck out of here. We’re behind you.”

Patrick’s back to wiping everything with his one glove and Star’s slowly doing the same. “
Go
!” He hisses.

With a black-gloved hand, I grasp the outside door and wait, listening. The only sound is the two of them cleaning, punctuated by a quiet sniff every few seconds from Star.

I rub my hand up and down on the doorframe and handle, wiping it clean, but just as I’m about to step through it, a dull thud comes from behind me. It’s followed fast by another, and another.
Whop whop…

Turning back, I see Star kicking Sloan’s dead body in the stomach hard. Her voice is cold with anger, and tears stripe her cheeks. “That’s for Tiffany, you fuckwad. I hope you’re rotting in fucking hell right now.” Then she lands a stomping blow to his chest, adding in a low whisper. “That’s for me.”

She pivots slightly and pulls back to make another blow, but Patrick catches her leg. “Not the head. It might fly off.”

Her eyes cut to me, and my brow is creased as I nod. I guess we’re more alike than I’d care to admit. I understand her primal need. I know the satisfaction she feels kicking him. She’d probably enjoy punting his head across the room.

Rubbing my eyes, I force these macabre thoughts to stop. I come back out of the rabbit hole, and continue out the door. Patrick’s right. We’ve got to go.

I silently make my way down the hedge-lined alley along the back of the hotel. We have a long stretch of conference-room windows to get past before we’re out of range, and I’m hoping Star’s recovered enough to walk normally by the time they make it to the end of our leafy covering.

Dark window after dark window, I’m moving fast, thankful it’s way after hours. Patrick and I are both trained for stealth, but our injured colleague isn’t. I hold up at the edge of the building, where the tall shrub ends and listen.

It seems I’ve made it, and I yank the black gloves off my hands, shoving them into my pockets. Looking back, Star’s leaning on Patrick’s arm as he basically carries her down the hidden path. He stops when he reaches me, and leans her against the wall. She watches as he pulls off his gloves and puts them in his pockets.

His voice is low. “We need to act as inconspicuous as possible. The Four Seasons is only a few blocks. Can you make it?”

She nods barely, and it does nothing to ease the adrenaline surging through my veins.

I don’t know how to place what I’ve done, where to put it in my mind or how to wrap my head around it. I’ve had to kill before, but in this case… What I’ve done is something outside the law. It’s vigilante justice, and it’s a cold fact that I’m not sorry.

How can I ever explain this to Mel? What will she think? She says I’m a hero, but I don’t know if she can love this side of me. The side that won’t back down, that will kill without hesitation.

I can’t worry about that now—it has to wait, and we have to move. I step out from behind the hedge, walking straight, hands in pockets. I don’t slow or look around.

Bodies pass me, but nobody appears to pay attention to another random person heading to his hotel. No one knows what I’ve done. I keep going straight. Patrick will wait several minutes before following me out, and we’ll rendezvous at the bar and decide what to do next.

Years seem to pass before we’ve got our drinks and are secreted away at the small back table.

Patrick takes a long hit of vodka before cutting the tension with his usual levity. “I think it’s safe to say that did
not
go as expected.” He pauses, studying our shell-shocked expressions. “And shit, I will
never
fucking get used to that sound.”