Urgency pulses between us and we shove down my pants. Holding her waist with my arm, I hold her and she wraps the thick, hard ridge of my erection with her hand and guides it to her sex. I groan as the wet, tight warmth of her body slides down my shaft. When finally she has taken all of me, I am buried to the hilt, and we stay that way, joined together. And in this moment, I again think that she is everything right in my world, in a night when everything else is so damn wrong.
My hand settles at the back of her head. “I will protect you,” I vow, and I don’t give her time to tell me why that’s wrong. It’s not wrong, and it will never be wrong. I kiss her, a long, deep, drugging kiss that seduces me when it’s meant to seduce her. No longer do I feel that dark, hard part of me. She softens me. She changes me. And as we begin a slow sway, I feel like I come back to her and to myself. Her fingers slice through my hair, tangling there, a brush of warmth, a tug of temptation. My fingers splay between her shoulder blades, molding her to me, even as my other hand covers her breast.
She moans. She sighs. She whispers my name and everything else fades. There is just the here and now. There is just Emily. She is the sunshine that was never supposed to exist in this storm I’m living. A calming breeze in the heat of demand, and still she manages to be fire in my blood. In this moment, I know it’s with her that I will always find me. With her, I will always escape them. And when she stiffens, when I know her pleasure is a few thrusts away, I want to hold back. I want to keep her in that moment, but I don’t. I want her pleasure too much. I want that moment that follows when she shakes and trembles for no one but me, and her body drives mine to an explosive release.
I collapse onto the cushion, and Emily melts into me, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, and I want to stay in this moment. But I can’t. Already my phone is ringing, calling me back to reality, and with it the memory of Adrian Martina standing in my apartment, where he should never have been at all.
“I need to take this,” I say. “In case—”
“There’s a problem,” she supplies, leaning back to look at me. “I know.”
And I wish like hell she didn’t know. I roll her to her back, reluctantly pulling out of her as I do. “Stay here,” I say, brushing hair from her beautiful, troubled eyes. “I’ll get you a towel.” She nods and I push off the couch, righting my pants I haven’t even taken off and tucking back in my shirt, which is a testament to how wrong this night has gone.
My phone starts to ring again, and I walk toward the bathroom, fishing my phone from my pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID with my brother’s number surprises me. I answer the call. “Is something wrong?” I ask, flipping on the bathroom light and grabbing a towel for Emily.
“What do you know about his treatment?” he demands, his tone gravelly, affected, and I have no doubt despite his every intention of beating me to the top, he’s as shaken as I am.
Inhaling, I lean against the sink. “I know the program is real.”
“Confirmed after dinner tonight?”
“Yes. Confirmed.”
“What are his real odds?”
Fleeting memories of our shared past, when we were not enemies but family, brothers, fill my mind, tempting me to answer him with every detail I know. But those times ended forever tonight when he threatened Emily’s life. “Does it really matter?” I ask instead. “He’s dead if it doesn’t work.”
He’s silent for several heavy beats. “He’s a bastard.”
Translation: Why is he letting Father’s potential death get to him? “I tell myself that every time I give a damn too. It doesn’t work. The idea of him dying still guts me.”
“That’s the magic of his manipulation,” he says. “Not only does he know how to drive a blade and twist it, he enjoys it.”
“We don’t have to be part of his game, Derek.”
“There would be no game, Shane, had you not shown up here and tried to take what is mine. I worked for this. I bled for this. And if you think anything you have done has made me give it up, you’re mistaken. Go fuck your woman. I’ll go fuck mine. And then we’ll see which one of us fucks each other. Goodnight, brother.” The line goes dead.
I grind my teeth, slide my phone back into my pocket, and with the towel still in hand, I press my palms on the counter, my chin pressing to my chest. Damn it. By his woman, he means Teresa Martina, Adrian’s sister. He’s pushing his luck. He’s going to get himself killed. I have to create an exit for Martina and do it now. Shoving off the counter, I exit the bathroom and make my way back to Emily, where she still lies on the couch, but she’s pulled a throw blanket over her.
I go down on one knee beside her and offer her the towel. “Sorry that took so long.”
“It’s okay,” she says, accepting the towel and putting it to use before sitting up and working to shift the blanket around her shoulders. “Everything okay? I mean, as okay as it can be?”
I sit on the coffee table in front of her, my knees beside hers. “That was Derek.”
“Derek called you? That’s very unexpected.”
“Yes, well, he wanted to know what I know about our father.”
“Did you tell him what you found out?”
I shake my head. “No, because I don’t know how he’ll use that information, and right now we need Mike Rogers and Adrian Martina to believe my father is alive and will be staying that way. That buys us time to remove them from the company.”
“We? Meaning you and your father?”
“Yes. Me and my father, and I never thought I’d say those words again.”
Her hand settles on my leg. “I’d tell you he might make it, but somehow I don’t think that’s what you want to hear.”
“Hope is what I need everyone else to have while I plan for the worst. I’m going to meet with Seth and his team to ensure what happened tonight doesn’t happen again.” I reach up and caress her cheek. “I want you to feel safe.”
“I want you safe. Don’t do business with Martina, Shane. Please.”
“This isn’t about me saying no to one man, Emily. This is about a drug cartel. There are many layers beyond Adrian Martina.”
“But he’s the one obsessed with you,” she argues, and I can almost see her mind racing. “He doesn’t want to do business with Derek. He knows he’s a risk. That was clear. If you aren’t involved, maybe he walks away. So you walk away first, now. Give the company to your brother and let’s go to New York and you—”
“No,” I say, sitting back, withdrawing. “Derek will end up dead, and you know I won’t let that happen.”
“Why would Adrian kill him? He’ll lose interest.”
“It’s a risk I won’t take.”
“Derek would take it with you, Shane. Even Martina said that.”
My gaze sharpens, that edge from earlier returning with a fierce jolt. “You don’t want me to use Martina’s words, but you will.”
She pales. “No. I’m sorry. Shane, you’re right. That was wrong of me. I’m just … I’m afraid for you.”
“I’m not Derek, Emily.” I stand up and round the table and ottoman to walk to the window, pressing my hand on the divider I’d pressed her against this very night, and stare out at the Denver skyline, a rainbow of colors dotting the night sky. Emily appears by my side, and I voice what is in my head. “This is my city. My home. It belongs to me.” I think of Derek’s claim that I’ve stolen something from him. “It should have belonged to Derek, but it damn sure doesn’t belong to Adrian Martina. He’s going to find that out.”
Emily steps in between me and the window, sliding onto the divider beneath my hand, her hand knotting the blanket at her chest. “Go to the FBI,” she says. “Negotiate a way to save your family.”
“The FBI’s a two-headed beast,” I say, leading her to the place I already am and where I need her to be. “The good agents will turn us into snitches, which equates to death or going into hiding. The bad ones will run straight to Martina.”
“There has to be a solution. T
here has to be a way out.”
“There is,” I say, pushing off the divider. “And I’m handling it. I have a plan.”
“Which is what?”
“Whatever it takes to end this.”
Those pale blue eyes of hers turn stormy. “Define ‘whatever it takes’?”
“Whatever it takes. And you need to decide if you can really handle that.”
“I can handle what I know and understand.”
“And therein lies the problem. You might not understand it at all. You just have to trust that I have no other option.”
“I just want to know. Promise me you’ll tell me.”
“No,” I say, no give to my reply.
She blanches. “No?”
“No. I won’t make a promise to you that I might not keep, and in some cases what you don’t know can’t hurt you or be used against you.”
“You mean if it’s illegal.”
“Take that how you wish, but right now I need to go meet with Seth and his men. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Lock up behind me.” I turn and start walking, and I expect her to try to stop me. I don’t realize how much I want her to until a step is gone, and then another, and each one is heavier with her absence. I reach the door and find myself pausing, willing her to appear. She doesn’t, though, and I know that it’s for the best. If she did, and if she said or did just the right thing, I might make one of those promises I swore I wouldn’t break. And then I’d break it.
Hesitating another moment, I wrestle with the idea that I’ve created the fear in Emily that I just pressed her to prove doesn’t exist. Inhaling sharply, I open the door and step into the hallway, sealing the door behind me. And then I wait and count out sixty seconds before I hear the locks on the other side of the door clang into place. She’s locked up and she waited until she didn’t have to see me again. But I can’t think about that right now.
With each step, I shift from that man I am before a battle to the man who I am when I win that battle. The one who doesn’t feel emotions. The one who controls everything. By the time I’m in the elevator, that edge that was animalistic and fierce is now a hard line that I control. I am focused on winning. By the time I step into the parking garage and find Seth leaning on the trunk of his silver Mercedes that he’s parked beside my Bentley, his tie missing, his expression grim, I’ve already decided that Derek is going to learn to put the family first. My mother will get the hell out of Mike’s bed or out of this family. Mike will learn he messed with the wrong Brandon. And Martina. Martina is about to learn that he too chose the wrong brother.
Seth pushes off the car, and I close the distance between me and him, stopping toe-to-toe with him. “What’s Nick have to say for himself?”
“One of his men is missing.”
Dead. That translates to dead. “Which one?”
“A family man named Ted Moore, with two kids. He was covering this parking garage when Adrian managed to get upstairs.”
“Do we have security footage?”
“It was wiped clean.”
“In my building that we’re supposed to control.”
“Isn’t that Martina’s point? To send you the message that you control nothing and have to play his game?”
“Beating someone at their own game is exactly how I like to win. Where’s Nick now?”
Seth fishes his keys from his pocket. “The only place I know is one hundred percent secure, because I made it that way. He’s at my house, waiting on us.”
“And if I go, who’s watching Emily?”
“A team led by Nick’s best man, Cody Rodriguez, who I happen to know personally. No one will get past Cody.”
“Someone did get by him.”
“No. Cody just flew into town from another assignment. Nick pulled him here immediately. He’s as good as they come.”
“I’ll save the rest of my questions for Nick.” I motion to Seth’s car. “I’ll ride with you,” I say, already walking to the passenger-side door while he climbs behind the wheel.
Neither of us speaks during the short drive to the Cherry Creek neighborhood where Seth lives, and where I’d considered moving, both of us watchful and thoughtful. And as I scan the roads, I think that it’s time I start carrying my gun and get Emily one as well. I also decide that she was right. I am scared, but not of what I will become or perhaps what I already am. Everything I have done or will do is about saving my family and my woman.
No. What I fear is the moment when I’m forced to do something that I can fully justify but she can’t. That moment I do something Emily can’t live with, because I know her, and that means she won’t be able to live with me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMILY
I lock up behind Shane, feeling naked beyond my skin beneath the thin blanket. Suddenly experiencing the sense of being exposed and out of control for too many reasons to count, I dart down the hallway and up the stairs. Once there, I dig out a pale pink bra and panty set, put them on, and then cover up with gray sweats and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. And because a drug cartel seems to be hanging around, I opt to slip on socks and tennis shoes before my mind starts racing, my thoughts twisting and twirling in such a whirlwind that I sink down onto the edge of the bed. Thoughts come at me hard and fast, but there are two that demand center stage. Shane just all but promised to shut me out, and I all but begged the man to spank me. He did spank me, and that connects to so many pieces of my past that should have made that traumatic and lost the me I’ve known, yet it did not. But then, it wasn’t about me. It was about Shane and trust, which brings me back to his vow to shut me out.
“But it’s not about trust,” I whisper, thinking about his promises to protect me and quickly dashing my anger. Shane’s had a hellish night. Anger doesn’t help him. My mind goes back to a statement he made. I am not Derek. He’s right. He’s not like this brother, but if this “war” as he calls it forces him to stoop to that level, what will he be on the other side? I have to help him find a way out of this that won’t do that to him, and do it in a way that doesn’t get us all killed.
Which is what? I go back to a certain law professor who used and abused me, and pretty much said the same thing Shane did tonight. Know your enemy better than they know themselves or you. I need to gather every fact I can for Shane and present him with every idea I can to defeat his enemy.
I push off the bed and dart for the door and down the stairs, my destination the office. Once there, I flip on the light and bypass the giant mahogany desk directly in front of me, cutting left to the couch and chairs framed by bookshelves. Claiming the spot on the floor between the couch and the coffee table where my MacBook sits, I power it up and bypass all my research on the new fashion line I’m determined to make happen for Brandon Enterprises. Right now I have one thing on my mind: finding Adrian Martina’s weakness.
I start reading, and it’s kind of eerie how alike he and Shane are in many ways. Both with elite educations. Both with family empires they’re battling to control. Both with brothers, only Adrian’s is dead, and … gulp. At the hand of his father. So add a brutal father to the list of commonalities they share. But the one difference that stands out to me is a sister. Adrian has a sister, and she is the one Derek is involved with. I have no idea why, but she feels important. Teresa Martina has my attention. If only we didn’t have her brother’s.
SHANE
Twenty minutes after I leave Emily in our apartment, Seth guides us past the foliage-covered gate of his traditional-looking home with a steepled top, the exterior impression more family home than bachelor pad to an ex-CIA operative. But then, that’s exactly why an ex-CIA operative would want it. Traveling the driveway, we cut into the back of the house, and there’s a white Porsche, my brother’s favorite color and make, parked outside the garage.
“Nick’s,” Seth says, hitting the electronic pad above his visor to open the garage door. “Needless to say, leaving the FBI and opening his own security business has been a good decision,
though I doubt with his man’s disappearance, he’ll agree.”
“Considering Martina made it to my apartment on top of that,” I say dryly. “I’m not sure I can agree either, but at least he has something in common with my brother. Maybe Nick can understand Derek where I can’t.”
He pulls the car into the garage and lowers the door behind us. “Your brother is a narcissist and driven by greed. I understand him just fine.”
I glance over at him. “He called me tonight.”
“He wanted to know about your father’s treatment,” he assumes, popping open his door, “like you did.”
“He did,” I confirm, exiting the car to meet his stare over the roof, a realization hitting me. “But my mother didn’t,” I add as we walk to the entry.
Seth keys in a code on a panel by the door. “Maybe she elected Derek to call you.”
Rejecting any answer that indicates my mother has the heart my father does not, I offer another solution. “Or she told Mike about my father’s treatment and he’s trying to get her answers.”
“In which case,” he assures me, “he’ll find the information we made sure he finds.”
“As long as his people weren’t as fast as ours.”
“Despite tonight’s events,” Seth says as we enter the newly remodeled house to be greeted by pale hardwood steps to match the flooring in the entire lower level, “you have the upper hand with our team.”
“After tonight,” I say, the two of us starting the climb up the wide steps before us, framed by stainless-steel handrails, “that’s a statement I’m going to need Nick to back up with more than words, or we’re replacing him.”
“He will,” he promises, and in a few seconds we reach the top floor and walk directly into a library, with bookshelves lining the walls and several gray leather chairs with ottomans sitting at various locations. In the center of it all is a long wooden table with a half dozen MacBooks on top, and Nick is behind it, talking on his phone, his military-style buzz cut as extreme as the set of his jaw.
He looks up as we step into the room. “I need to call you back,” he tells his caller, ending the connection as he stands, allowing me a view of the Harley-Davidson bloodstained-skull graphic on his black T-shirt, the FBI conservative logo announcing his past nowhere to be found. “I have no excuse to offer you,” he says, pressing his hands on the table as Seth and I stop on the opposite side of it. “But Cody Rodriguez is leading your team now, and he’s not only damn good, this is his world. He was born and raised in Mexico, and he was undercover in a competing cartel at one point.” He slides a folder across the table. “That’s his file.”