FOUR

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Eight nights later, on a Saturday, she had to talk herself into going on a date with Julian Scanlon, one of the firm lawyers. He’d been pursuing her for a while and Zara didn’t feel much electricity with him, so she’d been doing her best to deflect his advances.

But her encounter with Timothy still haunted her thoughts and taking the plunge with Julian was her attempt to get back to normality before she developed a complex about dating and was spooked for life. After their dinner, her opinion about Julian and their chemistry hadn’t improved, but she did feel a lot more relaxed about the general dating experience.

“I had a great night,” Julian said upon exiting the restaurant, which wasn’t far from Purdy’s. His moist hand was sticky and uncomfortable in hers, but when Zara tried to withdraw, he tightened his hold. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Very well educated, his only flaw was an awkwardness that followed him in social situations.

“Yes, it was a good night. The food was excellent,” she said, reaching for something positive to say.

His brief laugh didn’t seem genuine. “Maybe next time we should try somewhere further from work,” he said.

Julian’s idea of a date was not eating in a restaurant on the same avenue as their place of employment and he’d said as much when she suggested the eatery. He hadn’t voiced displeasure at her choice of apparel, but from the way his lip had curled as he looked her up and down, he made it clear he was unimpressed by her casual workwear of a loose short skirt and cowl neck top.

Zara wasn’t in the habit of making herself out to be more than she was, but Julian was rich and successful, so he was probably used to women making more of an effort to impress him. But with Zara, what you saw was what you got and if he disliked her dedication to hard work then there was no chance of any relationship between them.

That being said, he had been nothing but gracious and attentive all night, she couldn’t fault his manners. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t excited by him. “Yes,” she said, showing remorse in the smile she flashed in his direction as they walked down the block. “Sorry, I had some work to finish this afternoon. Thanks for meeting me at the office.”

A major bonus of dating a colleague was that he had security clearance to meet her at her desk. It also meant he’d have been background checked before taking his position, giving Zara some reassurance that he wasn’t deceiving her about his romantic interest.

Julian drew them to a stop at the corner of the block. “Should we get a cab?” he asked.

That implication prompted her to be more forceful in retrieving her hand, she wasn’t going to be rude, but she also didn’t owe him anything. “Actually, I still have some work to do.”

Surprised, and probably offended, his mouth dropped open. “Work? It’s almost ten at night.”

“Yeah, I’m a workaholic,” she joked, trying out a self-deprecating laugh. There were no pressing assignments, but Zara needed an excuse to refuse his request because returning to either his place or hers for a drink was the last thing she wanted to do when she wouldn’t be agreeing to see him again.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, still unhappy with her declaration while not getting the subtle hint. “I’d like to continue our evening.”

“Maybe another time,” she said, hoping the gentle letdown would work because she didn’t want an enemy at work.

“You are a workaholic,” Julian said, agreeing with her earlier statement. “Grant works you too hard. I should talk to him about it.”

Julian had no influence over Grant. In all honesty, her boss didn’t have many friends who did. He had associates and contemporaries, who he socialized with when the occasion called for it. Julian was not one of those men. He wasn’t in Grant’s inner circle at all. But it was nice of the conservative lawyer to imply that he cared enough to stand up for her if need be.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, removing herself from him when he tried to get up close. “I’ll see you at work.”

Walking away from him before he had the chance to say anything else, Zara travelled the familiar route to the CI building. Staying on the edge of the pavement near the streetlights, she made a point of smiling at everyone she passed in hopes they would remember her if something unthinkable happened to her and they found themselves making a statement to police. Zara knew she was being paranoid, but with Grant’s odd behavior and everything Raven had said, the possibility that something bad could happen was a recurring theme in her thoughts.

Using her security codes, she got into the CI complex and assumed that the night guard was on his rounds when she didn’t see him at his desk. This was a nice time of night to be in CI. Usually it was a bustling hive of activity on the lower floors. Now it was quiet, still, and safe—the subdued emergency lighting was her only companion. The motion sensors, which activated the main lights, took a few seconds to register her movement. Once they did, the lights flickered on in her wake after she’d passed through each section.

The executive floor was cool because the usual ambient heat from lights and bodies had been abating since quitting time yesterday when the full staff departed. The lights on this floor were off because she deactivated the motion sensors at night before she left.

Heading in the direction of her own modest office, she passed the executive reception desk, and went behind the silver screen that blocked Grant’s office from passing eyes. Her office was small, but located adjacent to Grant’s in a testament to how impatient he was when he needed her.

Zara slowed when she noticed that the blinds over the internal glass wall of Grant’s corner office were closed. They’d been open when she left a couple of hours ago. The four walls of his office were smoked glass, so she should have a broad view over the buildings surrounding CI. Instead, she only saw the outside of his blinds.

Trying to decipher who could have closed them, she came up with only one candidate: Grant. Her fingerprint was one of two that opened his door. Even the cleaning staff was only allowed in when either she or her superior were present. Confusion and intrigue only grew the nearer she got because the door was actually open, which was another oddity. Either they were being robbed, or Grant was here.

She couldn’t think of what could be so important to bring her boss into work at this time of night, especially on a weekend. But Grant didn’t scare her, so her paranoia eased. Her boss didn’t even kill the spiders that snuck onto the top floor despite their lack of security clearance, so he’d never hurt her. The prickle of panic that had heated the back of her neck began to subside. 

Heading toward the door, she planned to find out why he was here and to offer assistance with whatever he was working on. But when she heard the rumble of an unfamiliar male voice, she slowed, and came to a stop beside the vacant outer assistant’s desk. The woman who sat out here during daylight hours was tasked with wrangling those waiting to see Grant, a job that Zara didn’t envy.

Her suspicion about Grant being here was confirmed when his voice followed the stranger’s. The warmth of her panic began to rise again. Craning to hear more, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated.

“No deal,” Grant said.

“I want both,” the unfamiliar voice said. She knew her job and who Grant was working with and that voice didn’t belong to any of their clients or colleagues.

The men weren’t exactly arguing because no one’s voice was raised, but their conflict leached from their hostile inflections. “Kahlil, I told you not to come here,” Grant said with the air of a man who had better things to do. “You interrupted my night for a meeting that should not be taking place. If your boss thinks he can threaten or intimidate me then he’s underestimated who he’s dealing with.”

“No, Mr. McCormack,” Kahlil said, speaking with ominous urgency. “We know exactly who we’re dealing with. Don’t forget who started this.”

Zara didn’t want to miss any hints about what they were talking about. Silencing her own thoughts and emotions, she absorbed their words.

Grant became stern. “You weren’t the only one who got the offer, and until I’m satisfied there won’t be a deal.”

“What you’re offering will change the course of the future,” Kahlil said, ambitious and declarative. “Don’t pretend you’re naïve to that. You don’t want to upset your buyer.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Grant sneered. “It’s been considered, you buy from me, and the contracts will be ironclad. If you try to come after me I’ll blow the whistle and ruin you.”

“Ruining yourself too.”

“Better that than dead,” Grant said. “You think I’ll do business with a man I can’t trust?”

“You said you perfected the kill switch,” Kahlil said.

“Yeah,” Grant said. “Don’t forget that.”

“You can trust us. Just don’t think that you can disrespect us. We protect ourselves too.”

Their grandstanding betrayed how unintimidated they were by each other. But without knowing exactly what they were talking about, or who Kahlil was, Zara had no way to know if she herself should be scared or if their composed aplomb was genuine.

Grant cleared his throat. “You called this meeting. If you’re losing your nerve—”

“We want to bring negotiations to a close. Name your price.”

Holding her breath, Zara almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. CI had no official business with this Kahlil, of that she was sure. Raven had been right; there was some sort of deal going down. Kahlil wanted what she assumed Grant was selling. Grant had told her Albert Sutcliffe would be calling. With him and Kahlil in the running, there were at least two parties going head to head over this elusive product.

“You’re impatient,” Grant said in a superior drawl. “That concerns me.”

A bang made her jump and she guessed someone had hit the desk. “What do you expect to happen while you’re dicking around? You have a product and we want to buy it. I foresee no issues with the transaction.”

“I like a man who can hold his wad,” Grant said. “Take that back to your boss, Kahlil.”

This clandestine meeting was not meant for her ears and if Grant caught her out here eavesdropping then he may question her loyalty. Despite this suspicious behavior, the Grant she knew was rational and moral. Storming in to make accusations could embarrass him in front of this Kahlil, and she didn’t want a confrontation.

Zara had no memory of a client named Kahlil ever being associated with CI and Grant always called her before unexpected or last minute meetings, even the private ones. Clueing her in on all meetings meant he wouldn’t forget anything and could call on her for information he hadn’t retained.

When Grant and Kahlil’s conversation tailed off, she began to back away. Remaining as quiet as she could, Zara got around the screen and went straight to the elevator. The night guard would be finished with his rounds by now, so if she went out the main entrance, he would recognize her, meaning he could identify her to Grant. Zara didn’t want her boss questioning her ethics when he found out she’d eavesdropped on his meeting. Determined not to reveal her presence, she selected the parking garage floor and began to descend.

The elevator doors whooshed open and she strode onto the dark parking floor, which was deserted at this time of night. Rounding the pillars flanking the executive parking area, she was heading for the pedestrian exit on the far side of the space where she could input a security code to release herself from the building unseen.

What she didn’t expect to see was a vehicle parked in the executive area that didn’t belong to Grant. The dark car didn’t belong to the person whose spot it was in either, and the nearer to it she got, the more uneasy she became. Up and down, she was riding the adrenaline rollercoaster again—the building she’d previously considered a sanctuary had become unsafe.

Carrying on through the echoing concrete cavern, Zara fixed the glowing exit sign in her sights and kept on walking. Dull emergency lighting glowed as her only means of illumination and she just kept on going, trying to get to the exit as quickly as she could while ignoring the car she hoped was vacant.

The click of a car door opening quickened her pulse and revealed to her that she wasn’t alone. The beat of her heels on the floor sped up. The thump of her heart vibrated her limbs until her fingers throbbed. A figure rose from the far side of the anonymous vehicle and her vision began to blur. Hopes of an easy escape dwindled when the car door closest to her opened as well and a second male appeared.

“What are you doing here so late?” the man furthest from her asked as he rounded the car to meet his buddy by the trunk. Both of them had tanned skin and dark hair, suggesting Middle Eastern ancestry, but his accent was American without any foreign nuance.

Neither of the men was familiar to her, so she doubted they knew who she was. Except she couldn’t pretend not to hear them or feign ignorance that they were talking to her, because there was no one else around.

“I’m just leaving,” she called. Keeping her focus ahead, she continued on her trek, determined to reach her freedom. Her destination shrank into the distance. None of her strides seemed to bring her closer to the door, which had never appeared so far away.

“Didn’t answer the question,” one of them said as both closed in on her.

No, she didn’t and she wouldn’t because she had no explanation. “Why are you here?” she asked. Turning the tables on them, she prayed that her direct question would prompt them to retreat. It was doubtful they wanted to reveal why they were here.

But they weren’t that easily deterred and kept on coming toward her. When they blocked her route, she was forced to stop. Zara tried to side step, but the men moved in time with her attempts to dodge them.

“Don’t run away,” the one on the left said, while the other circled to cut off a rear escape. “We’re here with our boss. He’ll want to know who saw us.”

She didn’t want to panic; it was obvious that these assailants enjoyed seeing her squirm. If she screamed out or cried, they would get a kick out of her torment, which might trigger them into doing God knew what with her.

Suppressing her fear didn’t mean she was looking to provoke them, so she tried to allay their supposed concerns. “I don’t know who you are,” she said, but it was obvious they were some kind of security for Kahlil. Both were muscular and had a keenness about them that made her cautious. Bodyguards who had not gone with their protectee had to be edgy. Their decision to descend on her proved that they were itching to start trouble.

“What matters is that you’ve seen us,” the guy in front of her said. “And that poses a problem for our boss. We don’t like to be seen. That’s why we operate in the cloak of night.”

The guy behind her laughed. “The cloak of night, I like that,” he said. He was so close that his breath moved her hair at the crown of her head. She held her breath, with little choice except to remain in this sandwiched position.

Reminding herself of where she was, she found some of her gumption because it was ridiculous to suggest she’d done anything wrong when they were the ones here for some dark purpose. “If you’d stayed in your car, I wouldn’t have known you were here,” Zara said. At CI she was respected and dealt with awkward clients all the time, she couldn’t let them push her around here on home turf. “I’m important in this institution, so whatever you’re thinking about doing—”

A thick forearm came around her throat, forcing her to swallow her words as she was pinned to the man behind her. The one in front pulled out a switchblade and grazed the tip from the groove of her throat down to her cleavage.

Whispering his words, he was so close that he had to feel her trembling. “We’re going to make sure you stay quiet,” he said.

“How do you plan to do that?” she asked, the fog of each quivering pant moistened the air, but she held eye contact, determined not to be overcome by fear.

Resting a hand on his cohort’s shoulder, the man in front leaned in. “I’m going to show you what we can do. When we’re through with you, you won’t think about ratting us out. Your pretty head will be filled with so much horror that you’ll be scared to open those sugar lips ever again. Hope your boyfriend doesn’t come after me when you stop sucking his dick.”

Grabbing the back of her neck, he kept the knife in her cleavage and wrenched her forward, trying to force his mouth over hers. Adrenaline surged and Zara pursed her lips as she tried to twist away from the disgusting advance. Her attempts to shove him away only made him struggle to keep her close, using his partner as the wall to restrain her against. But she wouldn’t give in to this violation without a fight, she’d been standing up to strong, bullying men all of her life.

If she couldn’t get rid of the guy in front then a rear departure was needed. Knowing that they weren’t expecting her to, she reversed her fortune by reversing their roles. Using the man in front as her wall, she pushed, causing the one at her back to give out.

He recovered quickly, but their brief second of confusion gave her enough space to duck down and twist, to squeeze her body out from between them.

On her hands and knees, she tried to scramble away. One of them kicked her thigh then her ankle in a half-kick gone awry. Curling to protect herself, she fell onto her side in a roll, and tried to think.

Getting out of this wouldn’t be easy, she could go to the rear exit and maybe find a friend, or she could be running into a deserted alley, giving these men the perfect opportunity to do what they wanted with her. Going back upstairs would mean facing Grant and Kahlil, but that relied on the elevator arriving before these men caught up with her, which was unlikely.

The sound of a punch, then a thump put a stop to further assault. As her frightened thoughts sharpened, she unfurled her body to seek out the cause of her reprieve.

One of her attackers was flat on the ground. The second was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a tall man, dressed in black wearing a hooded leather jacket.

They punched and kicked, but she was mesmerized by the slick movements of the man in the hood. Both were trained, that much was obvious from the way they blocked blows and weaved around each other. In comparison, there was something so easy about the way the hooded man moved, about the deftness of his maneuvers. The other guy seemed frazzled and overwhelmed, but the guy in the black hood was calculated, moving only just as much as he needed to.

After blocking a punch, the hooded man landed his own hit. When his opponent staggered sideways, he curved a strong leg around to take his victim off his feet onto his back on the concrete with such force that he didn’t get back up.

Both of her attackers were on the ground, groaning or twitching, so she knew they were alive, but they weren’t in any hurry to fight again. The hooded man stalked over to her and held out a hand.

Bewildered, she just gawped at the hand as she tried to get her thoughts straight. “Get up,” he said. All she could see was the stubble on his defined chin and jaw. She didn’t know who this crusader was and taking the hand of a man so capable could be a transformative decision.

Being vigilant instead of hasty, she stayed on the ground. Her weight-supporting hands and ass were getting cold on the asphalt because her skirt had ridden up during the tussle, but she couldn’t throw her lot in with a stranger who could be as dangerous as the men who had just attacked her.

Her hesitation was noted by the stranger. He raised his hand to the back of his head to tug his hood back a couple of inches, just enough that the shadow lifted from his eyes and she recognized the man from the taxi rear-view mirror staring back at her. Shock made her mouth drop open, she’d been in trouble and Raven had materialized to rescue her.

“Zara, come on,” he said.

The edge of impatience in his voice was probably attributable to the residual adrenaline in his bloodstream from the confrontation, except he displayed no indication that he was harried. Raven, it turned out was true to his word. He’d said he was going to protect her and he’d just saved her from a situation she’d never have been able to get out of on her own. Nothing bad had ever happened to her when Raven was around and he’d proved he was capable of keeping her safe.

Gratitude made her snatch his hand, even though he was no longer offering it, and Zara scrambled up in preparation to run away with him. But when her weight landed on her feet, her legs gave way causing her to fall into his unyielding form.

His arm came around her ribs, beneath her arms, to hold her up. “What’s the problem?” he asked, keeping an eye on the men who were beginning to show signs of getting up.

“My ankle,” she said, keeping the weight off her injured leg. “I think I sprained it or—”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said, displaying no concern for her pain or interest in her explanation. Dipping to hook his arm under her legs, her feet didn’t touch the ground when he swept her out of the parking garage and into the dark lane outside.

This was a pedestrian access, so there weren’t meant to be vehicles parked here, there never had been before. But he dropped her onto the back of a monstrous black motorcycle that was standing up in the narrow space.

“Hold on to me,” he said, taking his seat up front and kicking the bike into gear.

Placing her hands on his sides, there was no time to tell him that she hadn’t done this before. He grabbed her wrists and forced them all the way around his torso, merging their bodies. Her instinct to withdraw was quashed when he revved the engine and roared forward. The momentum made her clamp her elbows and her knees into him and all thoughts of polite decorum went out the window.

The vibrations of the vehicle, and the heat that began to permeate, stimulated her. With the tumultuous emotions caused by this eventful night, she struggled to pinpoint the source of her blood pressure increase. It could come from fear, arousal, or maybe something else. The rush of wind as they wound through the streets loosened her hair but she didn’t let go of him, she didn’t decrease her grip for a second.

After becoming accustomed to the motion and the noise, she let her rigid muscles relax. Still holding on to him, she let herself breathe and rested her cheek on the leather at his back while trying to recall a time when she had felt so free. She came up blank. Given what she’d just been through, her exhilarated mood was quite a pronounced turnaround and it was all down to Raven and the security he provided her.

The streets whizzed by and although she recognized that their route would take them back to her apartment, she was almost sorry about the brevity of their trip. She’d never been on a motorcycle or had a man so solid and formidable between her thighs. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be to live a life free of all responsibility and throw caution to the wind, as Raven did.

He drove straight into the service alley at the rear of the building and pulled into a space between the dumpsters, then switched off the engine. In his same move of getting off the bike, he swept her up off her feet.

He didn’t blink, just carried her in his arms to the back door, and keyed in the private code to the security pad. She didn’t know how he knew it, but he didn’t hide his knowledge. Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t used a security code to get out of CI, divulging he had expertise beyond the physical.

Carrying her up the stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door while still in his embrace. He took her inside, kicked the door shut, and carried her across the room, past the first column, to lie her on the couch.

Elevating her right leg, he seated himself perpendicular to her body, between her legs, and made no apology for squashing her left leg between his ass and the back of the couch or his presumption. He slipped off her shoe and touched her injured ankle.

The contact made her recoil. Without invitation, he strengthened his grip around her heel and tested her range of movement with his opposite hand. His thumb pushed into the delicate bones beneath her skin to move her ankle as he wanted it to move.

He was so sure, so unapologetic, so entitled. Such a show of brutish control proved his power; he could contort her any way he chose to and all she could do was comply. Yet, by assessing her injury, he was demonstrating some level of care about her wellbeing.

Each time they came into contact, she learned a little more about who he was. She might not have specifics, but his deeds spoke for him. He had never hurt her, despite his superior strength. Had never put her down, despite the hints of class behind his gruff exterior. He had a mission to protect her and tonight he’d proved he was a man of his word. 

The firm hold of his rough fingers rasped her smooth skin and her gratitude bloomed. Her feminine awareness was awakening too. Raven had saved her life and then taken her on an exhilarating ride through the city streets. Adrenaline, endorphins, hormones, they were all chemical and they were combining in her head, slinking down her spine, through her organs to tickle her enlivened skin.

It was dark, but she could see the line of his jaw and how his hair was mussed suggesting he never did more than finger comb it. The musky scent of him made her pelvis grow heavy and the whisper of butterflies in her stomach began to gain speed and mass.

He was touching her, exploring her injury, and didn’t reveal any signs he was as raw as she felt. With every second of contact, she grew more sensitive to his actions and her hips began to squirm.

Fearing he would sense her interest or that she might do something embarrassing like whimper, she sighed. “Stop it,” she said, tugging her foot away from him.

He caught her limb, pulled it back, and laid it on his lap. “You’ll have to elevate it and ice it,” he said. “Nothing’s broken, but it will probably swell, so take it easy for a few days.”

“I have to go to work. I can’t just sit on my ass doing nothing.”

With his focus still on her leg, he addressed it rather than her. His frown made her speculate. Was he pissed that he was here tending to her? Or was he a man with more on his mind than he was letting on?

“Grant will understand,” he said. “You haven’t taken a fucking sick day for three years.”

By now, she was getting used to him knowing everything about her and her life. Other, more relevant, questions plagued her, like why he had come to her aid and how he got into CI. She wanted to know if he knew Kahlil and what he and Grant were doing having a clandestine meeting, but at the same time, she didn’t want to betray Grant.

“I’m not taking a sick day,” she said, sitting up without removing her legs from around him. Taking time off might help her sore ankle, but sitting in her apartment alone would only exasperate her confusion and there would be no answers here after Raven left her. “I need to know, Raven, why were you at CI tonight? How did you know that I needed help?”

Still inspecting her leg, he sounded tired when he replied. “Both have the same answer... I’m watching.”

“You’re still watching me? You said you were going away.”

He circled her foot in his grip. There was no reason for him to be examining her still, except if he needed the distraction from establishing eye contact. “How’d you get mixed up with those guys?” he mumbled.

“Kahlil and his men?”

His whole demeanor changed. He grew tense, and his awareness became acute as his eyes slid up to hers in time with the whisper of his hands skimming up her shin. If she’d been vulnerable to him before, now that susceptibility intensified until her throat began to parch and her muscles ceased. Inching closer, he forced her to lean back when he propped a fist on the couch cushion by her hip.

Intimidating her with the intensity of his mysterious brown eyes, his fixation tested the limits of her rapid heart rate. Doing her best, though it probably wasn’t enough, she tried not to reveal how affected she was by having his body within a few centimeters of hers, but her insides were beginning to feel like simmering soup.

“How do you know his name?” he growled.

The accusation laced through his question didn’t provoke distress as such, but she did feel small caged here beneath him at his mercy. “I went to the executive suite after my date with Julian,” she admitted. “Grant was there talking to a man he called Kahlil.”

“What were they talking about?” he asked, using his size to ease her back further until she was in a submissive reclining position against the arm of the couch.

His physical authority meant he didn’t have to ask her to lie down. He leaned forward and made her bend to his will. Having broken the seal of eye contact and proximity, he took advantage of the opportunity and examined every nuance of her expression. The way his gaze gobbled up her features made her feel like prey being dominated and toyed with by a starving predator.

While she had been slowed by her own hormones, she hadn’t thought his were on alert. But nothing else could explain why his eyelids grew heavy over his sharp eyes. Off-kilter in the swamp of his unanticipated amorous attention, she tried to focus. “I don’t know exactly,” she stuttered. “A deal I think. Kahlil wanted to buy something that Grant was selling.”

“Did they talk about what it was?” he asked, keeping his volume low. Curling a finger around a tendril of her hair, he let it slip free, then curled it around his digit again. The repetition of this private, personal contact calmed her.

“No,” she said, taking the liberty of sliding her hands up his chest because she wanted to feel the heart that beat beneath his clothes. But his solid breadth made her catch her breath. She stroked up and down then up again until her hands floated around to the nape of his neck. “Do you know what it was?”

The murmurs of her words were small gasping exhales that made her mouth water. Maybe it was the lack of light, the terror of the night, or the weight of him resting against her side, but this moment was intimate and somehow familiar, and she found herself transfixed by the proximity of his mouth. Lying in the cage of his arms, her next inhale made her shoulders slip back, causing her to arch into him.

“Did they see you?” he asked, letting her hair fall from his grip for a last time.

“Does it matter if they did?” she murmured, curious about the tinge of concern she deciphered in his tone.

When he tipped his chin a fraction higher, her mouth was tempted to ease closer. “If they did, I’ll need to alter my strategy.”

Still trying to maintain the thread of conversation, while not being distracted by their fascination for each other, she made herself look into his eyes. “Your strategy?”

“You’ll be in danger,” he said, moving his hand onto her face.

Moving her head, she stroked her cheek against his palm, encouraging him to widen his fingers. “And your strategy is to keep me safe?”

“Part of it.”

Dazed by his considerate words, her eyes closed as she smiled. “That’s very sweet,” she whispered.

“Sweet’s got nothing to fucking do with it,” he said.

Seizing the back of her head, he tugged her forward to close his mouth over hers. Opening for him, Zara welcomed the mass of his tongue that plunged against her own, cool and delicious. She opened her hands on the leather of his jacket and tilted her chin to signal her own compliance. This was new. This man was dangerous. Yet, her body was alive with sensation and eager to explore every facet of him. Questions outweighed answers, but all she cared about was pressing her body up to his.

He kissed her deep then sucked her lower lip as he withdrew and cast his eyes down. The tension in him made her stroke the width of his shoulders in solace and encouragement because she wasn’t finished, she wanted more, but her bubble was burst when he spoke.

“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” he exhaled.

Catching her breath, she barely recognized her raspy tone. “Not in your timetable?” she asked.

“You’ve been through a trauma and you’re still in danger.”

Scooping her hands up over his jaw, she made him look at her while she confessed. “The last man who kissed me ended up with a bullet in his head. I think you’re the one in danger.”

Because he had returned to examining her mouth, Zara wondered and hoped that he might kiss her again. It seemed somehow right in this night of madness that she should embrace her desire to be reckless.

“He didn’t die because he kissed you.”

She smiled and loosened. “One day you’ll tell me what you mean by all these cryptic half statements you make.”

“One day, I might,” he said, though she didn’t assume it was probable. A man who wouldn’t even give out his real name was unlikely to hand out his secrets without imminent cause.

Clutching the open edges of his jacket, she inhaled the scent of this man and this moment. She wanted it to be real because she hadn’t felt an attraction this strong in her life. But she had to ask, “Is this your way of gaining my trust? Like you said Tim was trying to do?”

“You don’t trust the men you sleep with, not in the way I need you to trust me.”

Again, he revealed how well he knew her, though she couldn’t imagine how he knew something so personal. Especially being that she hadn’t had a long-term boyfriend for a couple of years. Zara was accustomed to holding herself back in relationships. It was what came with being disappointed by men one too many times.

“Then kissing me was probably not a good idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said. Sweeping his arm around behind him, he trailed his fingertips down the length of her leg and elevated her foot onto the cushions stacked at the end of the couch. “Tell me what happened upstairs at CI.”

He didn’t kiss her again, although she got the sense that he wanted to by the way his interest flicked to her mouth and over her body. Flattered by his attention, Zara’s arousal didn’t cool, but it was obvious he had returned to business, insinuating that they probably weren’t going to explore their attraction further, at least for tonight.

“Nothing,” she said. “They didn’t see me. I listened for a while and then I left.”

“Grant didn’t see you?”

Now that they’d acknowledged the want of their bodies, it was easier to maintain her senses. “No.”

“And you overheard their conversation?”

Measuring his gaze, she anticipated his next question with suspicion. She wanted answers and didn’t want to reveal too much because despite his odd behavior this week, Grant had never given her cause to betray him.

“Some of it,” she said.

“What did they say? Give me specifics.”

Releasing all of her weight onto the scroll arm of her couch, she told the truth. “Grant has been good to me. I’m not going to sell him out just because you kissed me.”

When he sat upright, their trance of familiarity was broken. “How about because I saved your life tonight? Or because I’ve been looking out for you for weeks?”

Wondering about what he might have protected her from without her knowledge, she asked, “Have you seen any danger?”

He propped a hand on the back of the couch. “Danger like your boyfriend being shot dead in the street? Or thugs jumping you in an underground parking garage?”

His point was valid. She didn’t need to know about unseen danger when the seen danger was scary enough. “I don’t want harm to come to anyone,” she said. “But I don’t believe that Grant would endanger people. He’s a good man and CI’s remit is to help people with what we create.”

Switching position, he removed himself from her couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Resting his elbows on his knees, he joined his hands. “Why didn’t you show yourself to Grant tonight?”

Driving her fists into the cushion beneath her, Zara tried to get upright while keeping her leg elevated because somehow it seemed more civilized to talk while sitting up. But the position was awkward and strained her abdominals because there was nothing substantial at her back to support her.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be at the office and when I heard that he wasn’t alone, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Simple as that, yet Raven wasn’t buying it.

His sneer betrayed that he didn’t believe the excuse and called her on it. “I’d guess that a woman with your credentials has interrupted meetings before. Does he usually have late night meetings that you don’t know about?”

Averse to being brow beaten, she returned his derision. “How would I know?” she asked, willing to match his icy tone with her own. She worked late often and got enough late night calls from Grant to know tonight’s events weren’t the norm, but she wasn’t going to reveal that to Raven yet. She had to give Grant the benefit of the doubt.

Some of Raven’s frost dispersed and he seemed to be trying to appeal to her better sense. “Because you’re astute and conscientious, Zara. You know that something else is going on here.”

“I do because you’ve drawn my attention to it. You’ve made me so paranoid that I’m preoccupied by every suspicious detail.” Falling back onto the arm of the couch, she ran her hands through her hair and exhaled. “You’re making me crazy.” With the danger and now with the kissing too.

“No, I’m preparing you for what’s coming,” he said and didn’t sound as flummoxed as she felt. In fact, he was positively cool and collected. “I’m proud that your blinders are coming off. If you don’t want to trust me, then don’t. Others will approach you and they won’t be as gentle as I’ve been.”

And because she truly believed in her boss, she knew she could turn to him for help. “Grant won’t let anything happen to me.”

Raven rose. “Then you’ve picked your side. You go to him and you tell him everything. Ask him for the truth... If he’s the man you think he is, then he’ll give you the full story and order round the clock protection for you.”

“Protection?” By standing up for Grant, she’d managed to lose Raven’s goodwill. Without him, she’d be unguarded leaving her at the mercy of any other attackers intent on causing her harm.

It seemed he was severing their association, but he did relax for a second. “I’ll give you one last warning for free,” he said. “What Grant plans, what he’s about to do, it will test your loyalty to him and once you’re on the inside of the secret, there’s no getting back out.”

He began to walk away. “Raven,” she said before he could leave her. Seeking him out, she had to tip her head all the way back to locate him beyond the couch. “I won’t tell him about you.”

“You owe me nothing, Ms. Bandini, and you don’t know enough about me to give me up to anyone. Take care of yourself because no one else will.”

The tattoo of his heavy steps receded. The door opened and closed. He was gone. Her life at CI had kept her busy and she’d never assumed Grant was capable of dubious dealings, but there was definitely something unpleasant about what had happened tonight.

Steadfast in her loyalty to Grant McCormack, she was almost disappointed by the truth that she would never see Raven again. Reaching over her head, she groped for her cordless phone and speed-dialed her boss. It was late, but she knew he was awake because he’d been at the office. Except the line rang out until it went to voicemail.

Grant might be busy now, but she’d clear a space for them to talk on Monday because she was tired of the questions and she wouldn’t deceive him anymore.