Getting to her was going to be a challenge, but he wouldn’t give up. One way or another, he’d have his time with Carly Shay. She might think that she was safe, using powerful men to shield herself, but it wasn’t going to work.
Sooner or later, she’d be his.
The past had come calling. It was time for a reckoning.
Was she afraid? She really, really fucking should be. Enemies were closing in, and soon, even her allies wouldn’t be able to protect her.
She’d be on her own.
And retribution would be at hand.
***
He’d actually brought her back to her apartment. She’d expected more of a fight from Ethan, but he just took her straight back home. Ethan accompanied her inside, searched the place thoroughly and—
“I’ll set the alarm when you leave,” Carly told him.
Ethan gave her an Are-You-Serious glance.
“Uh, yeah, I said I can set the alarm,” she muttered as her toes curled into the hardwood floor. She’d ditched those crazy socks as soon as she was inside. Now she wanted to get rid of the scrubs and collapse into bed. The only problem with that plan was Ethan. And the fact that Ethan seemed to be lingering.
He headed to the door. Locked it. Set her alarm.
“How did you know my code?” she demanded, voice way too high.
He just tossed her a frown.
“Seriously, it’s a legitimate question, Ethan. You can’t just hack my system.”
He turned fully toward her, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared her down. “I didn’t hack your system, baby.”
Why did he always have to use that endearment with her? He didn’t mean it. And it was upsetting to her. Was he manipulating her, as the agent had said? Playing some game?
I don’t want to play.
“I saw you type in the code before,” Ethan added. “And it’s not like I’d forget my own birthday.”
Shit. Had she seriously done that? Made her security code his birthday? It hadn’t been deliberate, had it? Now her cheeks were stinging and she just needed this day to end.
“You won’t let me take you some place safe, so I’m staying here with you.”
She managed to stop her jaw from dropping. Barely. “You aren’t sleeping with me!”
“That’s unfortunate. Because I’ve fantasized about that plenty of times.”
Her jaw dropped then. No help for it.
“But I didn’t say I’d sleep with you. I said stay. Just…stay, baby. Tonight, I’ll bunk on the couch.”
“You don’t have to do that! I’m fine here!”
His arms slid to his sides and he headed toward her. She didn’t back up but a nervous energy flooded through her body. Then he was right in front of her. His expression was guarded—always, guarded—as he stared down at her. “You’re right. I don’t have to do it.”
Okay, so he’d leave.
“I need to stay. I need to know you’re safe. Because if I walk out that door tonight and leave you on your own, I’ll pretty much go fucking insane.”
“Ethan…”
“Go crash in your room.”
She didn’t move.
“To be clear…” His voice roughened. “I want to touch you.”
She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted him to leave. And she was a serious mess where he was concerned.
“But, I won’t,” Ethan said. “What I will do is stay out here, all night long. Anyone who comes for you, well, the SOB will have to go through me first.”
Her heart had taken on the heavy tone of a drum beat in her ears. Agent Monroe had said that Ethan was mimicking emotions, but his eyes were so bright with feeling as he gazed down at her. In that second, she could read him—Need. Desire. Fury.
She eased out a slow breath. “I keep seeing that guy in my head. Coming at me with his knife. Telling me that he’d cut my throat if I made a sound.”
Fury burned brighter in his stare.
Carly licked her lips as she came to a decision. “So, sure, you can stay on the couch. I’m not going to argue about that. I think I will sleep better with you here.” The devil you know…
She turned away. The devil she knew was far better than the monster waiting in the dark.
“If you need me,” his voice followed her. “Remember, I’m right here.”
Oh, but he didn’t understand. She’d always needed him. In one way or another. Resisting him, though, that had become a habit for her.
Was it time to break that habit?
***
Victor Monroe stared at the man in front of him. Dr. Keith Nelson was sweating. A little line of sweat ran over his upper lip. A bit of moisture wet his temples.
As Victor watched him, the guy took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses on his shirt. Talk about appearing nervous. You’d think the guy had never been called in for a talk with the FBI. Fear seemed to roll off the fellow.