Hot Protector(5)

Her eyes dropped away. “I… I don’t have it. I mailed it before I left town. I thought it was safer that way.”

“You mailed it? To me?” He turned his head to the pile of mail he’d brought in earlier. If she’d just mailed it, it wouldn’t be here yet. But fuck, this was not at all what he needed right now.

She reached for him, her fingers grazing over his arm for the briefest of seconds. He felt as if someone had touched him with a hot iron. His head whipped around, his eyes boring into hers. She licked her lips again, a quick maneuver that had him thinking about pink tongues and pleasurable uses for them.

“I didn’t mail it to you,” she was saying as he dragged his mind into the present. “I sent it to Tyler’s apartment… in Paris.”

Chase felt his brows arrow down. Of course the fucker had an apartment in Paris. Chase’s mother had always said she wanted to go to Paris someday. And Tyler had a fucking apartment there. Figured.

“You sent it to Paris. And I suppose you want me to go get it, right?” He really couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl, but then why not? She’d been raised in privilege and splendor. She’d never had to work a day in her life while he’d always worked for everything he had. He resented the fuck out of her for that.

“Yes… but I want to go with you. It won’t be there for three more days, so there’s time. But we should be there when it arrives.”

He blinked at her for a second before the truth of what was going on here hit him. Holy shit, she was crazy. Too many fucking conspiracy theory movies probably. And he wasn’t about to play along. She was a drama queen, fishing for sympathy and trying to drag him into her own twisted world of intrigue and danger. Hell, for all he knew, she was making up the existence of the flash drive—though the why of it eluded him.

But she did seem genuinely scared, which didn’t help.

He raked a hand over his head. Fuck, he hadn’t had enough sleep for this shit.

“Look, sweetheart, even if I wanted to help you, I can’t just take off for Paris. I’m a soldier and there are procedures to be followed. I go to Paris with you, I’m AWOL from my job. And I can promise you I’m not doing that.”

Technically, since they’d just returned from a mission in Qu’rim where they’d rescued a group of archaeologists, his squad was off duty for another week. The guys were all taking holidays, going to beaches and mountains and relaxing until time to return for duty.

But the difference was that everyone was staying within an eight-hour radius of HQ. That was the requirement unless officially on leave. The eight hours was travel time, not distance—and Paris was over eight hours when you added airport delays and car time.

“I’ll pay you, if that’s the issue.”

Chase stiffened. He was just about to tell her to get the fuck out when the neighbor’s dog started barking like crazy. Sophie whirled and stared at the door. The hair on Chase’s neck prickled, but he dismissed it. Crazy night. Lack of sleep.

“Relax, it’s probably a possum or a raccoon. One time, that idiot dog got worked up over a skunk—didn’t work out well for his owner, I can promise you that.”

She threw him a look over her shoulder. For the first time, he was looking at the rear of her—and it was a mighty fine rear to look at. Baby had back, that’s for sure. Sophie might be the privileged stepdaughter of a wealthy man, but she didn’t look like someone who had a personal trainer and a chef who fixed salads for her.

No, the girl looked like she liked her fries and milkshakes a bit more than that—and yet she was still fucking gorgeous with her red-gold hair and killer curves. No wonder Androv had been interested.

“I really need to get out of here,” she said, her voice tinged with panic. “When Grigori figures out I’ve left New York, he’ll come looking for me.”

He had to admire the depth of the conspiracy theory scenario she had going. Yep, Sophie had watched too many Mission Impossible movies.

Chase sank onto the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in about ten years or so. Why would Androv assume you’d come to me?”

Sophie looked suddenly disgusted with him, like he was the one a few bricks short of a load. It was not a good feeling.

“How do you think I got your address? By carrier pigeon? I called Tyler for help and he told me to come to you.”

Chase felt the first prickle of warning slip down his spine. Maybe she was blowing the whole thing out of proportion… but what if she was right?

“Do you think Androv tapped your phone?”