Fuck was she young.
I groaned, and God help me, my cock throbbed a little harder as I skimmed over her information.
Eighteen.
Thank fuck.
She was a freshman at Cartwright College. I swallowed, turning back to the images of her. Fuck was she gorgeous. Gorgeous in that hidden way—in that way where it was obvious she didn’t know it. She dripped innocence and temptation, and I growled lowly.
She needed protection. Well, that was clear just by looking at her—a girl like that, as gorgeous as that and as innocent as that? Damn right she needed protection. The world was full of wolves—wolves just prowling for a victim like Nina. The thought made me rage and made me want to drop everything and just go to her right fucking then and there. To hold her, to protect her. To keep her safe.
…To keep her all to myself.
But it was much more than just the everyday jackals she needed saving from. My body stiffened, heart racing as I read the brief report. I read about what she’d witnessed—how Bureau intelligence had picked up on her having seen Sylvan and his men executing a rival in an alley the other night. How there was strong intel that said Sylvan knew she’d seen it, and that he was after her.
My blood boiled at the thought.
Urlech’s note said he needed me to take her into custody, and to keep her safe. But my eyes narrowed as I hissed at his note.
Bullshit.
I’d just found the evidence that linked Urlech with Sylvan. No fucking way was I bringing Nina in to him.
And yet, she did need protection. If Sylvan had even an inkling of who she was, her life was in danger. The thought of that piece of shit hurting her sent boiling rage blazing through my veins, and I snarled audibly as I slammed my fist down on my desk.
She needed protection, and I was the best shot she had. But I wasn’t going to do it Urlech’s way. I was going to do it my way.
I groaned, forcing myself to breathe as I shook my head clear and focused on the pictures in my hand.
God was she beautiful.
I flipped through them, the world narrowing to nothing around me until it was just me and her. Obsessive? Sure. Stalker-ish? Maybe, but I didn’t give a shit. The surveillance team had been all over her for the last two days, getting shots of her doing basically anything she did in life. Walking to school, studying at the library, heading home. Watering her window plants. There were ones of her stretched out on a bench reading a book, her knee-length skirt riding higher than she probably knew as she immersed herself in the book.
Another shot had her in just a thin white cotton t-shirt and shorts, but with the wind hitting her dead on, I groaned as I caught sight of her hard-little nipples straining at the shirt. I paged through more and more shots, until one stopped me with a growl.
Nina in just her bra and panties.
I groaned when I saw it. The surveillance team had shot it through the window of her apartment. But as much as it made my cock pulse with need for her, it also made me furious. It made me enraged that these other assholes had taken these pictures of her. I growled, gritting my teeth.
Nina was mine. And she was for my eyes only. Part of me wanted to find this surveillance team right then and knock their teeth in for invading her space like that. I mean fuck, shooting her through her bedroom window in her underwear was hardly protocol for keeping tabs on her, those fucks.
But instead, I just stared, and my blood ran hotter.
Nina was mine. It was this primal need that roared through me. This base instinct to protect her, and to keep her safe from harm.
…And all to myself.
I was so hard it hurt, my cock aching as it strained against my jeans. I groaned, letting my hand slip down to cup it through the denim before finally, I gave in.
With her, I was weak.
I grunted as I yanked the zipper down, reaching inside to pull out my thick cock. I groaned as I wrapped a hand around the throbbing shaft, squeezing and stroking it up and down slowly as my eyes danced over the images of my Nina. I imagined her spread out in front of me on the desk, opening those pretty legs and flashing me her panties. I imagined her tugging them to the side, my cock pulsing as she showed me her little pussy.
Fuck, this was wrong on every damn level. She was eighteen. I was thirty-nine. She was a witness. I was in charge of keeping her safe. I shouldn’t have been having these thoughts. Not ever. She was too young.