Page 19 of Masked Intentions in Pelican Point
The guard beside me swallows. "Ma'am, the cameras..."
"Showed nothing, right?" My voice is harsher than I intend. "Someone looped them."
Nolan crouches, his face close to the shredded replica. His dark eyes flick up, steady and unreadable. "They wanted us to find this."
"Obviously." I rub the back of my neck, fighting the chill crawling over me. "It's intimidation."
"It's possession," he corrects, his voice low. "They're telling us they own the night. They can move wherever they want, leave whatever they want, and we won't catch them unless they want to be caught."
My temper spikes, cutting through me like glass. "I don't accept that."
His gaze never wavers. "You don't have to accept it. You just have to face it."
I straighten, bristling. "What I have to do is keep this collection safe, keep Murphy's guests breathing, and keep the staff from losing their bloody minds. I don't have the luxury of indulging ghost stories."
He rises, his presence towering, his voice quieter but carrying more weight. "Then stop pretending this doesn't bother you."
When the room is empty, Nolan steps closer, finally laying his hand against the small of my back. The warmth of his palm is steady, grounding, infuriatingly gentle. I tense, but I don't pull away.
"You're allowed to feel it, Allison," he murmurs. "Fear. Anger. The need for someone else to take the weight."
I snap back before I can stop myself. "I don't need you."
"Liar." His tone isn't mocking. It's firm, unyielding, a wall I crash against. "You're strong. Smarter than anyone in this house. But even you can't stand watch every second. You don't have to."
I turn on him, fury and need tangled too tightly to separate. "What exactly are you offering, Porter? Backup? A warm body to soak up bullets? Or something else?"
He leans in, his mouth so close my breath falters. "All of it. Because I don't give you choices when it comes to your safety. You'll fight me on everything else, but not this."
Something cracks inside me, dangerous and unrelenting. My chest feels too tight, my throat dry, my body humming with adrenaline and heat. I want to shove him away. I want to climb into him. Instead, I whisper, "You're infuriating."
"And you're trembling." His hand slides up, catching my wrist, pressing my palm flat to his chest. His heartbeat thunders steadily beneath my touch. "Feel that? That's how certain I am."
I close my eyes, just for a second, and let myself feel it. The solid strength of him. The heat. The certainty I can't muster on my own. When I open them, his gaze has softened, but the steel remains.
"You don't get to run from this," he says.
By the time we reach my room, the house is quiet. Staff move in hushed steps. Guests laugh faintly behind closed doors, unaware of how close danger prowls. My hand trembles on the knob, and I hate it. Nolan sees, of course he does. He nudges the door open and ushers me inside like he owns the place.
"Don't get comfortable," I warn, my voice hoarse. "You're not staying."
He closes the door behind us with deliberate calm, then turns the lock. "Try and make me leave."
I whirl on him, ready to unleash every retort in my arsenal, but the words die as he closes the distance. His mouth crashes onto mine before I can resist, hot and fierce, stealing my breath and my balance in the same instant. My hands fist in his shirt, meaning to shove him back, yet instead I drag him closer until our bodies collide. The taste of him drowns every protest—salt and heat and raw command rolled into one, his tongue teasing mine, claiming and coaxing until all I can do is answer, hungry and trembling.
He drives me back until my spine meets the wall, his arms braced around me in a cage I don't want to escape. His body presses flush to mine, every line of him unyielding, solid enough to steal my breath. His mouth takes with ruthless hunger, coaxing and demanding, each stroke of his tongue pulling me deeper under. Every rational thought splinters into sparks. I answer with teeth and tongue, as fierce and frantic as he is, the clash of us raw and consuming. Heat surges through my veins, molten and relentless, leaving me trembling and desperate for more.
He breaks just enough to rasp against my lips, "Say it. Say you need me."
I shake my head, defiant even as my body betrays me, arching into his. "I don't."
His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back. His gaze burns into me, dark and commanding. "Then why are you trembling? Why are you letting me kiss you like this?"
I gasp, caught between fury and desperate want. "Because I want you too."
"No, because you're mine," he growls, his mouth descending again, swallowing my protest in a kiss that sears down to the bone.
The room dissolves into heat and frantic motion. Clothes scatter across the floor, buttons pinging loose, fabric tearing in our reckless rush to get closer. My jacket slides from my shoulders, his shirt ripped open a heartbeat later. His skin burns against mine, hard muscle shifting beneath my hands as I clutch at him, greedy for more. He scoops me up as though I weigh nothing, my thighs gripping his hips, my breath breaking as he drives us toward the bed, every step a promise of what comes next.
