Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (24 page)

But he couldn't do it.

"She's been shot at twice since you came to town," her father stated, his look accusing. "She wasn't having problems then."

"Dad, please." Mikayla stepped in front of her father, as though she thought she could protect one of them. As though there were a reason to feel one of them needed protecting. "I'll be fine."

Her father stared down at her, much as Nik realized he was staring down at her.

Patiently.

Then her father reached out, gripped her beneath the arms, and set her gently out

of the way. Like a child.

If Nik hadn't been watching her face he wouldn't have seen the pain that flickered over it at her father's casual disregard of her position.

It was enough to make Nik want to lift her and put her right back. He didn't doubt her father's love for her, but Nik did doubt her father's ability to understand the woman she was, rather than the child he wanted her to be.

"Ramsey." Her mother moved to her side. "You can't force her to come home."

Ramsey frowned back at his wife, before turning the look on his daughter.

Mikayla shook her head, that look of wounded pride glittering in her amethyst

eyes.

"I'm not a bone to fight over," she said, the hurt thick and heavy in her voice. "I'm going to
my
house. Thank you, Dad, for bringing the boys to fix the window. And thank you for being here for me. But you can't help me this time. And I won't hide under your bed like I did as a child when the kids at school picked on me. I have my own bed now."

She turned and walked regally, as regal as a fairy could be as her wings drooped

from a father's lack of respect. Ramsey Martin loved his daughter, but to Ramsey she was still a little girl. And his little girl was in danger and refusing to listen to his advice.

Nik turned to her father slowly. He was staring at Mikayla as though she had just

robbed him of his heart.

"You're going to get her killed," Ramsey accused Nik, his voice low, vibrating with fear and anger.

Nik shook his head. "I'm the only one who can save her, Mr. Martin. You can't help her; your sons can't help her. I can."

Ramsey rubbed at his neck once again, a grimace tightening his face. "I can't help but think you're the reason this is happening to her." He looked to the closed office door.

"But she's not going to let me take care of her, is she?"

116

"She doesn't want to be taken care of," Jorrey Ramsey stated, though her gaze stayed on Nik. "She wants to be a part of her life. Not a spectator."

And what the hell that meant Nik could only guess.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the investigator as he moved from the back of

the room.

"We found the bullet," Denover informed him. "Ballistics will take over from here. But I wouldn't expect anything more than we got on that last one."

"Which was?" Nik stared back at him coldly. There still wasn't a report on the last shooting.

Denover smiled mockingly. "Nothing." Nodding, he moved for the door, the officers standing behind him following closely.

Which essentially meant anything concerning Mikayla Martin was not high

priority.

That would change the minute Nik had a chance to make a phone call. If Jordan

wanted him back anytime soon, then his commander could see about getting this case moved a little higher on the list of priorities where the police department was concerned.

"That is what is wrong with the world today," Ramsey Martin growled as the investigator and his officers left the shop. "A complete lack of respect. I knew that little bastard's father. He'd be rolling in his grave to see his son acting that way where the law is concerned."

It didn't surprise Nik in the least. It only went to reaffirm his belief that the world, politics, and the police had much in common, no matter the nation one was in.

"Mr. Ramsey, take your family home." Nik turned back to Mikayla's father. "I'll take Ms. Maple and Mikayla home. And I'll get to the bottom of this. One way or the other."

One thing was for damned sure. If he managed to get his hands on the person

shooting at Mikayla, then he was going to kill him. There wasn't a force on this earth that would be able to keep Nik from tearing the bastard's head off.

Nik had no doubt there wasn't a special place in hell reserved for men who dared

to threaten to harm pretty little fairies. On the off chance that there wasn't, Nik would make certain the shooter suffered before he died.

"Think she'll say good-bye to me?" Ramsey wondered aloud as he glanced at the office door once more.

"I'd say she'd be more hurt if you didn't go to her," Nik responded as he moved away to test the plywood barrier the brothers had put up.

He left the Martins alone now as they moved for Mikayla's office. Perhaps, if the

father tried, he could erase the hurt he had put there earlier.

"You know, you're going to break her heart," Deirdre said as she moved behind Nik.

Nik turned and faced the redhead, seeing the concern in her eyes for her friend.

Deirdre Maple and Mikayla Martin had been friends since childhood. The report

he'd put together on Mikayla showed an endearing friendship between the two. Deirdre was the sister Mikayla's parents hadn't been able to give their daughter. And at the moment Deirdre was playing the big sister, just as she always had.

And Nik didn't have an answer or an assurance for her.

She shook her head at his lack of response. "I know that look. She won't be the 117

only one left with scars, will she, Mr. Steele?"

"No," he finally answered her softly. "She won't be alone, Miss Maple."

He moved away from her and left the shop to check the work the boys had done.

As he moved out, they went in, eyeing him suspiciously as they did so.

They were men; they knew he wouldn't be questioned where their sister was

concerned, just as they knew that he was an entity to be wary of.

He'd never harm Mikayla, but if her brothers got in the way of his protecting her, then God help them.

God help another living soul that dared to hurt her again.

He was sick and damn tired of people picking on his fairy.

118

Chapter 12

People saw her as a pushover, and Mikayla knew it.

As she stepped from the shower that night, dried, and dressed in a long cotton

nightgown and robe, she admitted she might well be too damned nice.

Even Nik treated her with kid gloves. There was a difference between needing to

be protected from a killer and needing to be protected from life.

She had no desire to be protected from life. She wanted to live life, experience it.

She wanted to laugh and she wanted to love, and if that meant getting her heart broken, then she wanted that, too.

She'd had plans, she admitted. Plans to be a virgin on her wedding night, plans to wear her white dress, but those plans had changed. She had a very bad feeling there was every chance Nik wouldn't be sticking around for a white wedding.

Not because he was a heartbreaker. Not because he had any desire to hurt her, any

desire to spoil the plans she had made. Because the darkness inside him might not allow him to love with the same need, the same intensity, as Mikayla could allow herself to love with.

Moving through the house, she was aware of Nik in the living room sitting on the

edge of the couch as he cleaned his gun at the coffee table.

He had done that the night before when they left the bed for a snack. While

Mikayla made sandwiches, he had cleaned his gun. He took exceptional care of his

weapon.

"I ordered pizza," he called out as she moved for the fridge. "It arrived a few minutes ago."

She had to admit, she hadn't been looking forward to cooking at midnight.

"It's a good thing I'm not on a diet," she muttered as she poured herself a glass of sweet tea and moved into the living room.

Sure enough, a pizza box sat on the end table next to the recliner, along with

several paper plates.

Mikayla made short work of a slice, sipped at her tea, and watched Nik finish

cleaning the gun.

He'd showered as well.

His hair was nearly dry, fanning around his face as he bent his head to his task

and carefully put the weapon back together.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked as he laid the weapon aside.

"I'm heading to the job site to talk to the new foreman and a few of Eddie

Foreman's friends. There has to be a reason someone wanted him dead; I just have to figure out what that reason is."

"What have you learned so far?" She knew what he had learned, the same thing she had. Not a damned thing.

"Just a few rumors." He sat back on the couch and stared at her thoughtfully.

"Foreman wasn't well liked by a lot of people. I called your friend. He gave me the same 119

information he gave you, but I haven't been able to verify it, or find Steve Gainard."

"Steve's out of town," Mikayla stated before breathing in deeply. "For a man so unliked, no one wants to discuss Eddie."

"We'll see." Nik shrugged. "I have a few more leads to follow."

"I'm going with you." She straightened her shoulders and stared back at him in determination. "Deirdre has dared me to come back to the store until this is taken care of."

"No. You're not." Steel encased his voice as he watched her with warning, icy eyes. "You're in enough danger, Mikayla; I won't allow you to compound it. Your brothers will be at the store with you tomorrow, and you'll do as you've been doing; you'll work in the back room. I'll pick you up myself once I get another vehicle tomorrow and begin taking you to work and back myself."

"No, you will not." She surged to her feet. "I won't like that, Nik."

"Then you'll die," he growled as he came to his feet as well. "And that's not an acceptable trade as far as I'm concerned. You'll only endanger yourself further by going with me."

"It's my business and my life." Her arms went across her chest as she lifted her chin.

She was going to help him; it was that simple.

"No."

She wasn't going to do anything of the sort, and it was that simple. The very

thought of Mikayla putting herself that much closer to danger was enough to send terror racing through him. It simply wasn't going to happen. Even if he had to tie her to her office chair and release her himself at the end of the day, it wasn't going to happen.

Damn, she was stubborn, though. He could see that militant little light in her

amethyst eyes, the determined angle of her chin, the pure fire in her eyes.

His cock, already rock hard and engorged, seemed to thicken that much more and

ached with a hunger he wondered if he would ever sate.

He had tried to tell himself throughout the day that he had a job to do here and

that job did not include rolling around the bed every chance he got with Mikayla.

His imagination proceeded to place her on the kitchen counter, the couch, the

coffee table, wherever he could get to her, if the bed was such a problem.

"You can't just tell me no," she stated, incredulity coloring her voice. "This is my life, Nik, and it's my problem. I was the one shot at three times already and I'm the one who will die if this isn't fixed."

"I won't let you die." The ice in his eyes was replaced by fire just that fast. Before the words left his lips he had crossed the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms as he glared down at her. "That's why you will not be going, Mikayla."

"I won't accept--"

Before she could finish the sentence her mind was being blown by a kiss that stole her breath and her senses.

This kiss was unlike any he had given her yet. It was a full-blown sex act, a

hungry devouring of her lips and tongue by his own as he pulled her closer against his body and intoxicated her on the white-hot heat of his kiss.

There were no allowances for innocence with this kiss. There were no excuses

made for the hunger that began to sizzle and burn between them.

120

There was definitely no permission asked as he untied the belt to her robe and

pushed it from her shoulders and lifted her in his arms, turned, and sat down in the large chair.

Mikayla would have been shocked if she had been given the chance. Nik pulled

her over him until she was straddling his lap, the sensitive mound of her sex pressing against the hard wedge of his cock as it strained beneath the cotton sweatpants he wore.

This was pure, unadulterated lust with a little old-fashioned dominance thrown in

on the side. Well, maybe more than a little. This was complete dominance.

Her ass cheeks flexed in his palms as he cupped them, pulling her closer, grinding her against the throbbing flesh pressing between her thighs and sending her clit into a complete overload of sensations. The little bud swelled instantly, coming to full blazing, aching life and demanding satisfaction.

Beneath her hands his bare chest rose and fell swiftly as his lips slanted across

hers, his tongue stroking against hers as Mikayla threaded her fingers through his hair and held on for the ride.

One of these days, she thought, she'd have the experience, the knowledge, to

destroy his senses just as effectively. Until then, she would greedily take every kiss, every caress, and learn from it, even as she reveled in it.

And reveling in it she was.

Her thighs tightened on his at the feel of his calloused palms pushing beneath the hem of the gown and pulling it upward, sliding it from her body until her arms lifted and he tossed it away as though it didn't matter.

He didn't pause in his attack against her senses. Not Nik. He was a man who knew

exactly what he wanted and how to attain it. And he was definitely attaining it now.

His lips drew back from hers as his hands moved to her shoulders, bracing her as