Page 15 of Devil's Due: Sarge

Apparently, Vlad doesn’t believe me. “Sarge,” he calls across the room to the man whose eyes have been keenly on me this whole time. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Sarge nods as he begins making his way over to the bar where we’re seated.

“It would be better if I weren’t here.” Why can’t they see that? “The club would be in less danger. Nic, you’d be in less danger.”

“Don’t you worry about her safety,” Vlad says. “She’s in good hands.”

“The club will be in danger if we have to go searching for your ass,” Sarge adds. “And make no mistake, wewillgo searching for you. Do us a favor anddon’ttry to run.”

“How can you stand to look at me, Nic?” I ask as the hot tears that had filled my eyes begin to fall. “I got those women dead. It’smy fault.”

“The house was for any woman who needed a safe place to hide,” she answers, sounding so sure of herself, of me, of the whole situation. “You needed a safe place. Do your people trade in flesh?”

“Not that I know of. Only stolen art.”

“They didn’t work alone,” Vlad said, cutting in. “Someone knew Nic was there too. All those women had someone after them. Don’t take on blame that’s not yours to take.”

Sarge pushes right into my personal body space, using one long, warm finger to tilt my chin up. He pierces me with the intensity of his stare. “Hear this—if it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been one of the others.”

I swallow hard, wanting to turn my head away, but with the gentle, firm pressure on my chin, he continues to hold me captive. It’s relentless. Even my eyes refuse to cast down, refuse to or are unable to. It feels like he’s caught them in a tractor beam, locking them in place to convey a silent message I won’t let myself comprehend because the implications of his message freak me the hell out.

As we continue our faceoff, he has to realize the truth. Sarge scares the hell out of me. Not because I think he’ll hurt me—the exact opposite. I truly believe that man would lay down his life for me, and all we’ve done is share a kiss. Why? It doesn’t make sense. The man who helped raise me, for lack of a better word, put me in a position where I could be killed. Yet this man… he treats me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.

When I’ve reached the point where I can’t take one more second of his assessing gaze, he gives an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging that he knows I got him.

I think I just agreed to be his.

“Just so you know, you aren’t sleeping in that room by yourself any longer,” he says as a command meant to be followed.

“Why?” I can hardly breathe, let alone speak at the moment, which is why the word comes out whispered.

“Because I don’t trust you not to do something stupid now. Pack your bags. You’re moving into my room.”

Oh, shit.

6

Sarge

“Welcome to the club,” Nic says behind us as I lead Greer by the hand to the room she’s been staying in. I chuckle under my breath.

“Time to pack your shit,” I direct her as I push her through the door.

“There’s not much to pack. I didn’t exactly have time to leave with much, and we haven’t really done a lot of shopping since I’ve been here.”

“That’s something we’ll take care of. Make a list of things you need; we’ll head up to the store.”

“It’s very kind of you, Sarge, but I don’t exactly have money.”

“Didn’t ask for money. We’ll work out the exchange later.”

Fuck.That sounded bad, like I expect sex in exchange for buying her things. The way her body went all rigid, and the horrified look on her face – that’s exactly how she took it, too.

“I didn’t mean that, baby. I just meant, you’re my woman now, so I take care of you the way you need to be taken care of and since relationships are a two-way street, you’ll take care of me the way I need to be taken care of.”

“That still sounds like you’re expecting sex.”

“Nope. But maybe one day I’m in the mood for pan fried chicken and you decide to make me pan fried chicken just to be nice. Maybe you grab me a beer simply because I look thirsty.

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