Page 79 of Protect Thy Enemy

***

The cool night air hits my face as I step out of the SUV, and the flashing neon lights of the bar named Davidson’s come into view.

The frustration burning inside me doesn’t cool at the sight.

It flares and only gets hotter when I hear the faint sound of footsteps behind me.

I turn, my hand flying to my gun and aiming it at forehead level. Icy-blue eyes lock with mine, and within a heartbeat, my weapon is gone.

Before I can react, I’m pinned against the rough brick wall of the bar, my breath hitching as his solid body presses against mine. His hand grips my wrist, firm but not bruising, his other planted beside my head. Close. Too close.

“What did I tell you about hesitating, Rookie?” His low tone shouldn’t make my stomach flutter, but it does. The words are a taunt, his breath warm against my ear, and I hate that it sends a shiver racing down my spine.

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze without flinching, my lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “What did I tell you about following me, Holden?” My sharp voice cuts through the electric tension crackling between us.

His lips quirk into something that isn’t quite a smirk but close enough to make heat pool low in my stomach, shooting straight to my core. “You think you can just waltz off in the middle of a mission, dressed likethat, and no one would notice?” His eyes dip, slow and deliberate, lingering on the low cut of my tank top and the curve of my hips hugged by the tight black denim.

“Sorry I didn’t inform you, dear husband. You were busy on the phone,” I shoot back, my voice harder now, laced with indignation. I arch a brow, ignoring the way my pulse quickens under his unrelenting gaze. “And what’s it to you? You don’t own me.”

“Don’t I?” His words are a low growl, his grip on my wrist tightening just enough to make me hyper aware of his strength. His eyes darken, filled with something primal, making the air between us impossibly heavy.

“Not even close,” I whisper, leaning in just enough to feel the heat radiating off him. My lips barely move, but the defiance in my tone is unmistakable. “You don’t get to tell me where I can or can’t go. I’m just getting a drink.”

“It’s against protocol,” he says, the words laced with frustration, but there’s an edge, a thinly veiled jealousy that sends a thrill through me.

“Yet here I am.” I shrug, the movement brushing me against him, and I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. “Tate didn’t seem to care.”

“You don’t report to Tate,” he snaps, his voice dropping even lower, rough with restrained fury. “You report to me.”

The corner of my mouth lifts in a slow, teasing smile. “Oh, is this you pulling the ‘husband’ card?”

“You are my wife.” The words come out like a growl, his grip on my wrist pulling me closer, so close I can feel every hard inch of him against me. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to deny it.

“Only undercover,” I bite back, my voice dripping with venom, even as something inside me twists in response to the heat radiating off him. My heart pounds, my body betraying me in the worst way. I have to fight to keep from clenching my thighs together.

His silence is telling, his lips parting as if to fire something back, but nothing comes. I yank my wrist free from his grip, my fingers brushing his as I do, and take a deliberate step forward, erasing the sliver of space between us.

“What’s the matter,Holden?” I murmur, my voice sultry and intimate, dripping with a tone I’ve never heard before. “Going to file another anonymous complaint to HR? Run crying to Harris and tell him how much of aliabilityI am to this mission again?”

His nostrils flare, his jaw clenching so tightly I wonder if he’ll crack a tooth. But he doesn’t say a word.

I lean in, close enough that my breath skims over his skin, the proximity leaving me dangerously aware of how intoxicating he is. “I thought so,” I whisper, the words a knife slipping between ribs. “Mind your business.”

His chest rises and falls, his restraint tangible, but he doesn’t step back. His voice, when it comes, is rough, a warning wrapped in heat. “You’re playing with fire, Rookie.”

I smirk, brushing past him, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air as I walk toward the bar, my voice floating over my shoulder. “Good thing Ilovethe burn.”

The music in the bar is loud enough to drown out my thoughts, which is exactly what I need. The bass thrums through the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional clink of glasses. The dim lights cast a warm, hazy glow over the crowd of people packed close together, moving to the beat of the music.

Eyes flick to me as I step inside. A few linger, curiosity mixed with interest, but I don’t pay them any mind. Let them look. I didn’t come here for them.

I head straight to the bar, weaving through bodies swaying to the music, the heat of the crowd pressing against me like a living, breathing thing. The counter is polished, reflecting the faint glow of the overhead lights.

“Whiskey,” I say as I lean against the bar, the word leaving my lips like a command.

The bartender glances up, a man with tattoos snaking down both arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. His sharp jawline and easy smile make it clear he’s used to attention, and I’m not above enjoying it.

“Coming right up,” he says, his voice smooth.

---