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Elliot fought the scream that rose in her throat. Years of training had ingrained the need to remain silent in crisis, but the sight of Sydney balancing precariously on the banister as she whooshed toward them from twenty feet up scared the shit out of her. Instinct moved her forward when fear would’ve stuck her feet to the floor. All she knew was she had to get to the child before she fell; nothing else mattered.
And when Sydney’s slight body came to rest in her hands? That’s when the anger hit. “What the hel— Fu—”
The only words that popped into her head were all curses, none of which she could say with Sydney’s wide eyes staring curiously up at her. Instead she plucked the girl from the banister and settled her safely on the nice unmoving floor of the foyer, then spun on Deacon.
His eyes bulged when they met hers, seeming to recognize both her terror and her anger. She wanted to hide it, wanted to hide herself—she didn’t react this way. Ever. She was always under control. But seeing that baby in danger...
And then Deacon laughed, which only made it worse.
Before she could kick his ass—which was really fast—Deacon had scooped Sydney up to his hip and cuddled his daughter close to that broad, muscular chest. “I think you scared our Elliot a bit, Sydney.”
“Oh.” Sydney wiggled out of Deacon’s arms in a shot and raced to her. Tiny arms wrapped around her thigh; a tiny face tilted up to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Elliot. Daddy made sure the rail’s real wide. That way I won’t fall. He taught me how to slide good. It’s okay; he won’t let me get hurt.” The child’s utter belief in her father shone from her eyes, clear as day and as foreign to Elliot as baby dolls and tea parties.
And now everyone was staring. She couldn’t blame them. Her cheeks burned. Of course Deacon would make sure his daughter was safe; the man had hired a specialized team to protect his house from a murderer just for her. So why was Elliot’s heart still pounding? And where the fuck had all her vaunted professional cool gone? “That’s...uh... That’s good.”
Sydney chattered away, seemingly oblivious to Elliot’s breakdown. Elliot realized her hand was atop the little girl’s head when her fingers stroked along the silky brown hair pulled back into a ponytail similar to the ones her mother had put her hair into as a child. Looking down into Sydney’s eyes, caressing her hair, Elliot realized something: Sydney was only a year older than Elliot had been when her mother escaped Mansa’s island. Nora had risked everything to protect her daughter, and now, two decades later, Deacon was trying to do the same thing.
It had to stop. No more little girls should be at risk because Mansa was an egomaniacal bastard. No more parents should feel like this, like their hearts would pound out of their chests, like they couldn’t breathe because they were afraid for their child’s safety. Children deserved to be protected, and Elliot knew, whether she had experience with kids or not, Sydney was hers to protect, just as Mansa was hers to kill.
She carefully pulled her hand away, retreating into the space she knew, the familiar, safe space of her professional persona. Her words slipped into a slight pause when Sydney stopped to draw a breath. “I think it’s time for that tour. I’ll go get the others.”
“No need.” Footsteps accompanied the words, moving down the hall, and then Dain appeared, Saint and King flanking him in their usual positions.
“Speak of the devils.” Deacon introduced Fionn around. Elliot noticed that, after shaking the men’s hands and giving them each a hard stare, Fionn turned to Deacon and gave his friend the barest of nods, the gesture seeming to ease the tightness around Deacon’s eyes. Had Deacon called Fionn in for a second opinion? She could see him wanting an outsider’s perspective; he had a lot to lose if they weren’t the right team to protect his daughter.
Sydney squealed. “Can I show Elliot my room, Daddy?”
Elliot hadn’t known a sound that high could emanate from a creature that small unless said creature was a mouse. She plugged a finger into the ear closest to Sydney and shook it, trying to stop the ringing, but didn’t miss the fact that Deacon’s gaze was still locked on her. It was a fight not to react to him, but every time her interest tried to rise, so did the memory of Dain’s ultimatum. She needed to be objective, in control, not...whatever this was.
And a great start you’ve made with that, Ell.
Telling herself to shut up, she followed her charge up the stairs. Not that she had much choice given that Sydney had claimed her hand. Those tiny fingers twined with hers felt foreign, strange. She wanted to shake them off and clutch them closer at the same time. Between that and the heat licking along her spine at the knowledge that Deacon was directly behind her, right on level to get a great view of her ass, she wondered if she was having some sort of mental break. She never had to fight to focus on work, never worried what a man thought of her as a woman—hell, she barely thought of herself as a woman. Maybe the shock of Diako’s reappearance in her life was the cause.
All the more reason to kill the fucker as soon as possible.
The second floor of the house was bisected by a long hall that jigged to the right at the end. It didn’t extend far enough for that to be the back of the house, though. Elliot knew Dain had a copy of the house’s blueprints, but reviewing them herself had had to wait. She made a mental note to commit them to memory later.
“The back half of this story is a Jack-and-Jill suite intended for guests,” Deacon explained behind them. “Since the master is downstairs, I’ve taken one of those rooms for now to be close to Sydney.” He opened doors as they went along, showing them a large study and third guest bedroom at the front near the stairs. Elliot glanced into each. Somehow Deacon was always there, right where she couldn’t help but brush against him. And every brush made her breath catch, damn it.
“Saint and King can stay in the guest room,” Deacon said. “I’m assuming you’ll be downstairs, Dain?”
They continued down the hall, passing two additional rooms that were currently empty, one on either side. “I’ll stay in the library,” Dain said. “The couch in there will do fine, and I want to be close to the equipment just in case.” They’d agreed to keep all weapons not currently being worn in a locked chest in the library under constant surveillance. Sydney had been raised around guns, but she was still a child and no one wanted to risk her safety. “We’ll take shifts on a rotating basis, of course, but I’d rather everyone get as much rest as possible until things begin to heat up.”
There was no question of them not heating up; they all knew that. Diako didn’t travel outside the realm he easily controlled, ever. It was how he’d stayed alive, stayed on the throne of the kingdom he’d created. Retaliation for his heir’s death appeared to be an exception.
Deacon acknowledged Dain’s plan with a nod as he led them down to the end of the hallway. “I’m in this bedroom here.” He indicated the room at the hall’s elbow. The position of the door meant he could see anyone coming from the stairs; no one could get to Sydney’s room without passing his. Good plan. “The adjoining room can be Elliot’s so she’ll be directly across from Sydney.”
Not a good plan.
“Isn’t that great, Elliot?” Sydney bounced up and down, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’ll be right next to me. Almost like a sleepover; would you like to stay in my room for a sleepover sometime, huh?”
“Um, maybe. Let’s get settled first, okay? We’ll have plenty of time for sleepovers.” As if she knew all about them.
Right.
Sydney pouted up at her, and Elliot wondered how the hell Deacon ever resisted that face. The kid was cute, no doubt about it.
Deacon gestured to a door down the short corridor at a right angle to the original hallway. “That’s yours, Elliot.”
She did no more than glance in. The sight of the connecting door open to the bathroom made her chest feel funny. She turned to Sydney. “And where’s your room?”
Sydney’s grin went wide. Elliot carefully surrounded the fragile fingers that slipped once more into hers, ignoring the tension caused by Deacon’s gaze as it followed them into a room with pale pink walls and stuffed animals piled on the bed. Sydney went straight over and picked up a ratty-looking cat that Elliot recognized from this morning.
“This is Katie Kitty.”
A favorite, Elliot had no doubt. She listened to Sydney discussing Katie’s wonderful qualities, then introducing the rest of her animals while Elliot scanned the room for security issues. Though the usual kid clutter existed, Deacon had a toy chest against one wall that Sydney seemed to make use of for everything but her animals. A bookshelf overflowing with books occupied another wall, next to a large double window curtained with light, flowing pink material, not see-through but allowing in the sun. Elliot walked over to look out.
A second later Sydney ducked beneath the material with her, Katie clutched to her thin chest. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Not like our old house. I didn’t have a window. Now I can see everywhere, and the people next door have horses that visit our fence sometimes, and Daddy lets me pet them when we’re out. And roll down that hill in the grass. And...”
Elliot lost track of the conversation as her gaze settled on the hill across the road from Deacon’s land. For a second she swore she caught a glint of light flashing off metal or glass. On instinct she shuffled Sydney behind her hip.
The move brought a pause in Sydney’s chatter.
“Uh-huh,” Elliot said.
The little girl continued, unaware of Elliot’s focus centered outside.
“Syd, c’mere and be telling me about this new baby doll,” Fionn called through the curtain. Sydney bumped Elliot’s leg as she turned away from the window, but Elliot continued to stand. To watch. In the back of her mind she heard Fionn teasing Sydney, heard Dain and Saint’s low-voiced conversation near the door. The buzz of activity fell away as she breathed deep, in and out, allowing her warrior mindset to click online. Whoever was out there posed a threat to her team, to her client, an innocent little girl who’d been standing in this very spot a few seconds before.
She couldn’t allow that.
Another breath, waiting, waiting. Seek and destroy. This was who she was, who—
Another flash.
Got him.
She turned quickly, flinging aside the filmy curtain. Sydney sat on a rug across the room, showing Fionn a line of baby dolls. Safe.
Three strides brought Elliot to the door and Dain.
“Surveillance. Opposite hill from Sydney’s window, twenty yards below the ridge.” A sharp glance at King and Saint brought their attention to her. She’d just lifted her hand to gesture for them to follow when Deacon appeared in the door.
“What?”
Dain filled him in. Elliot signaled her team.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Deacon barked.
She frowned. “Where do you think?” She literally squirmed, set to go, her body flooded with adrenaline and ready for the hunt. This was the lead they needed, that she needed, her first step in finding Mansa. And Deacon was holding her back.
His hard face reminded her that he wasn’t just a client or a dad, but also a warrior. And this warrior wasn’t happy, apparently.
“We need to go,” she insisted.
“No, they need to go. You stay with Sydney.”
“But...” There were five soldiers that could stay. “That’s my team. Let me do my job, Deacon.” Let me protect you all.
He gripped her arm, his hand wrapping all the way around until she felt the pinch of digging fingers underneath. “Your job is here, with Sydney. Or did you forget that? Fionn!”
Hell no. She was not handing her authority over to Mr. Playboy. “I’m protecting your daughter by investigating a threat.” She needed to be out there doing what she did best, seeing the evidence with her own eyes, finding the clues, uncovering the slightest lead that would take her to her father’s doorstep. She was the one with the intel, the one who knew the target better than anyone else. Why were they stopping her?
Because you screwed yourself, remember? Deacon doesn’t know how valuable you are.
“Elliot.”
When she glanced at Dain, he shook his head. She glared back at him. When Fionn arrived, she kept her gaze on Dain as she repeated the information he needed.
“Sniper?” Fionn asked, his voice low enough that Sydney couldn’t hear them across the room.
It was Deacon who answered. “I don’t think so. She was right in the window and he didn’t fire. Take King and Saint to check it out.”
Fionn jerked his chin in acknowledgment and gave them a wide berth as he jogged toward the stairs. Instinctively Elliot pushed forward to follow him.
Deacon didn’t let her go. Elliot clamped down on the urge to break his fucking fingers.
Deacon leaned in, his brown eyes darkened to near black the closer he came, his irises taking over her world, his gravel-filled voice vibrating deep inside her. “You are my daughter’s last defense; if anyone gets through us, then they have to get through you. Keep that in mind, Elliot—it’s the only position that matters on this op. So don’t fight me again. You might not like the instinct it stirs up.” His smile took on a feral edge. “Or maybe you will.”
Shock sizzled down her spine. “What did you say to me?”
“You heard me.”
Without another word, he turned to follow the team—her team. Elliot stood, frozen, until small fingers gripped her hand. Shaking fingers. “Elliot?”
Guilt surged in Elliot’s chest. Yes, her first instinct had been to verify Sydney’s protection, but it had also been to leave the child there.
She dropped to her knees instead. “I’m here.”
Green pools of worry stared up at her. “What’s going on?”
For a moment Elliot was lost in the far too innocent depths of Sydney’s eyes, eyes that reminded her of her own distant past, when she’d had a mother who loved her enough to die for her, a mother she’d trusted to take care of her. Just like Sydney trusts me.
“Everything’s okay, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.” With a quick scoop she gathered the little girl into her arms and stood. “Come on.”
The sound of boots on the stairs faded as the team left through the back of the house, but she refused to dwell on it any further. She had a job to do—she had to trust her team to do theirs.
She’d have to find some other way to get to Mansa before he got to them.