Page 56 of Under Fire

“Talk to me.” His tone grew darker, more urgent.

“It’s complicated.” Alisa let out a long exhalation. “It started as one thing and turned into another.”

“What does that mean?” Warren asked, trying to keep her talking, get her to open up.

She shook her head, biting her lip, absent. “He must know. Hemust. My apartment… Was that a threat?”

“You tell me. What does he know? I’ll help you.”

Haunted, she gazed at him. “No one can help me now.”

Warren arched his eyebrow, completely taken aback. At first, he had just been trying to get a sense of who her fucking fiancé was. But, by that point, screaming alarms were going off in his head.I’m a fucking idiot. Why didn’t I see it?

His thoughts darted to the loud blacked-out bike he’d seen driving by her place, seeing him exit her place—then the cop asking weird questions. She was in serious trouble. He’d played stupid games with her. It was all far worse than he’d ever thought.

He reached out, gently holding onto her chin and turning her face to look at him. He studied her, trying to understand.

“Has he hurt you?”

Her lips trembled again as the words came out of his mouth, and she immediately ran her hands over her face, shaking her head. Something told Warren she was shaking her head because she didn’t want to answer, not because she was telling him ‘no’.

And nothing—fucking nothing—lit a goddamn fire inside Warren like the thought of someone he cared about being hurt.

He found his hands gripping her more tightly, afraid she would slip away. She slumped over, all that brightness and energy fading. Whatever her secrets were, Warren knew they were fucking dark. Any man that would hurt a woman…

Goddamn.

He growled, “I need you to tell me everything.”

“I’m scared, Warren.” She shook as she said it, and he knew he was trying to get blood from a stone. She was too deep into shock to confess.

“What’s he going to do to me?” she mumbled.

“Nothing.”

“How do you know?”

“Things have changed. You’re under my protection—now that I see what’s up.” Warren’s thoughts flashed to his tickle trunk of big-ass guns in the basement.

She grew silent again, shaking her head, leaving him to stew and brew dangerous plans. He knew how to kill, knew how to be stealthy, precise and untraceable. He wasn’t against killing for a cause—and he owned that. SEAL training had taken a hold of a part of him so deep that he’d never be able to purge the natural warrior in him.

First, he had to take care of his ward. It was clear that Alisa was mentally and physically exhausted. It was clear that she’d broken down, she was traumatized and she couldn’t take anymore. The mind could only take so much. He knew what his job was. He needed to get her to bed, get her some sleep and give her brain a break.

Unplugging the soaker tub in his master ensuite, he pulled her unsteady body up, her naked form tempting him once again. But he knew he couldn’t be that guy. That was exactly what he was trying to get away from—taking advantage of her. She was too damn vulnerable for anything else that night, even his thumping cock.

Wrapping her in a towel, he dried her and plunked her into his big comfy bed. He readied himself to head downstairs to sleep on the couch, trying to live up to his own standards of being a decent fucking guy, having some semblance of honor, when he felt her stirring in between the sheets.

“Stay,” she said in a small, pleading voice. “Please.”

Warren let out a breath, knowing that was a bad fucking idea. But, how could he saynoto her long, gorgeous frame and her sweet, loving face? He hesitantly settled in behind her, holding her tight to his chest, breathing promises into her hair. She intertwined her smooth silky brown legs with his, reinforcing everything he had come to realize.

I could never hurt her.

Any man that hurt women wasn’t a real man.

That night, Warren barely slept. Wild scenarios running through his mind, he buried his face into her hair, wondering what the fuck was happening. His heart banged against his chest as his cock ached, pressed up against her tight ass. The growing anger pulsing through his body told him he was on a knife’s edge. Everything that was complicated already had just gotten ten times worse, and he was goddamn concerned as hell. ‘Pent-up’ was an understatement by that point. He was in a fucking cage. And all he wanted to do was break out of the prison he was keeping himself in.

Hours of thoughts brought him nowhere, and he blinked open his bleary eyes to see the sun on the horizon once again. Thankfully, a peaceful Alisa was still fast asleep in his arms, in his bed.

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