Page 72 of Protecting You

No.

Maybe he should’ve.

He didn’t want to consider why it had never occurred to him. He’d seen her, inserted himself, and gotten them both into this mess.

The whole thing had spun out of Callan’s control.

There was nothing, nothing he needed more than to stay in control. Especially now that he had a daughter to consider.

“You okay back there?” Malcolm met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“How’d you know we were in trouble?”

“Saw the lights go on in the trees. Figured you could use a hand.”

Callan hated that he’d needed help. He liked working alone. He wasgoodworking alone.

But not good enough.

“Thanks.”

Malcolm nodded.

Callan reached between the seats and slid his hand around Alyssa’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She twisted to face him. “I’m not the one who got beaten up.”

“I told you to run.”

Her lips twisted into a smirk. “I can’t believe you really thought I was going to leave you.”

“You should have. If they’d caught you?—”

“We’re safe now.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t hide his displeasure, though mixed with that was something else—admiration for her bravery and ingenuity.

Alyssa kept surprising him. He’d always found her beautiful. He’d never questioned her above-average intelligence. Maybe he’d underestimated her because she came from wealth, but the one he named Paris was a lot more than just intelligent and beautiful and rich.

The more he knew her, the more he liked her. Which was exactly the opposite of what he ought to be thinking about.

Callan’s boss had driven too fast along the narrow Brookline streets, ensuring nobody followed, but now that they were on a main road, he slowed to a reasonable pace, glancing at his passenger. “I’m Malcolm Springer.”

“Alyssa Wright. Thank you so much for helping us out.”

“My pleasure. To helpyou, that is.” He tipped his head back toward Callan. “That guy, on the other hand, is a pain in my rear.”

Alyssa turned toward Callan, and he attempted a smile, though his head was pounding, and nausea churned in his gut.

Mild concussion. That big blond guard had packed a punch.

“There’s water in here.” Malcolm moved his elbow off the armrest between the front seats, and Alyssa opened it. She handed a bottle back to Callan.

“Thanks.”

“You seemed a little off after the fight.” She still wore the T-shirt on her head.

He could’ve reminded her, but he’d been right—she did make it look good.

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