Retribution (The Protectors 3) - Page 33

“Why?” was all Tate asked, his eyes searching mine out. A shiver went through his body and I wondered if it was because of the cool night air or something else. He was wearing the same jeans he typically wore and I was glad to see they actually looked like they fit him better now. And while he still looked tired and a little too pale, he didn’t have the same gauntness he’d had when we’d first met.

I ignored his question simply because I didn’t want to answer it…because none of the answers I had were easy ones.

“How did you find me?”

I employed an online postal services company to receive my mail since I didn’t spend enough time at the house in Rocky Point to pick up my mail on a regular basis, so I’d used my virtual post office box address for the hospital paperwork.

“Ronan gave me your address.”

Irritation went through me because I’d never told Ronan about this place and I certainly hadn’t given him the address. Which meant he’d used alternative means to locate me.

I pushed past Tate, ignoring the rush of sensation that went through me when our bodies briefly connected. I strode into the garage and began searching through the cabinet where I stored my weapons.

“So you’re going after them by yourself?” I heard Tate say behind me.

“Go home, Tate,” I said without looking at him. “Go be with your son,” I added as I carried a couple of clips over to my work table and began adding bullets to the first one.

“What about our deal?”

I put down the clip I’d been loading and turned to face him. “You and I both know it was never a deal,” I finally said. I ended up grabbing the clip again so I could keep loading it because I didn’t trust myself enough to have my hands free when Tate was once again within reaching distance.

Tate appeared agitated as he glanced around the empty, well-lit garage. “They won’t talk to you,” he eventually said. “They’re all afraid of Buck.”

“Then I’ll make sure they’re more afraid of me.”

I turned back around to the work table and reached for the second clip. But then Tate was whirling me around, and to my surprise, he actually shoved me back against the work table, his hands fisted in my shirt. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered.

They were the last words I expected to hear.

Tate’s hands relaxed enough to release my shirt, but instead of pulling them away, he opened them so they were flat on my chest and I barely kept it together as the heat burned through the thin fabric of my shirt. He stared at his hands for a moment and then lifted his eyes to meet mine. I saw the flash of heat go through them and I wondered if he saw the same thing in my gaze. I nearly groaned when his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips and then he was pulling his hands away from my chest, the tips pressing into me for the briefest of moments before he stepped back. At least I had my answer about whether his physical reactions to me had been about fear or something else.

Anger and frustration consumed me as I grabbed the clips and the box of bullets and strode back to my truck. Tate hadn’t moved when I returned to the garage and began closing up the nearly empty gun cabinet.

“I know you came to the hospital every night.”

I stilled, but didn’t turn to face him. I tried to lock the cabinet, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

“One of the nurses mentioned it when I told her Ronan and Seth would be staying with Matty because I had to leave for a few days.”

“What the hell do you want, Tate?” I ground out as I jammed the lock closed and turned to face him. “I fucked up,” I snapped. “I know that! I’m trying to do the right thing here!”

“Just tell me why,” Tate said softly.

I bit out a curse and strode past him, grabbing his upper arm as I went. I pulled him out of the garage and hit the button on my way out. I nearly dragged him to his car, but he didn’t fight me. I reached for the door handle on the driver’s side, but he got between me and the door and wrapped his hand around my wrist to stop me from opening it. I let out a harsh breath as he moved forward just enough so that our bodies were touching. I felt Tate’s free hand settle on my waist and I closed my eyes as a wave of need crashed over me.

“Tell me,” Tate whispered, his mouth dangerously close to my ear.

I could have told him a lot of things; things that were all some version of the truth. But as I felt his body heat seep into me and his soft lips press against the skin just below my ear, I couldn’t do anything but tell him the truth I’d been denying from the moment I’d realized he wasn’t one of the men I was hunting.

Tags: Sloane Kennedy The Protectors M-M Romance
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