One to Protect (One to Hold 3)

“Anything with the power to take you away from me scares me.”

I’m shocked by his answer. Derek isn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. “Nothing is taking me away from you.”

He catches both my hands in his. “I won’t risk you or the baby being hurt. We’ll end the long distance arrangement after we finish this job.”

“How long?” After all he just said to me, I feel our pending separation more acutely than ever.

“A week? Two tops, and I’ll keep in touch with you the entire time.”

“Two weeks? That’s longer than we’ve spent apart since Christmas.”

“Believe me. I’ll be doing everything in my power to make it end sooner.” His phone buzzes, and when he looks at the face, he starts to rise. “It’s Patrick. We’ve got to get moving.”

Tears heat my eyes as I follow him back toward my house. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it together until he’s away. “It hurts more than ever this time.” My voice is soft, and I’m fighting as hard as I can. It’s difficult between my fears for him and what he just shared—and a healthy dose of pregnancy hormones. Still, I don’t want his last sight of me to be crying.

I follow him back to my bedroom, where he stops and hugs me close. My face is against his chest, and his fingers thread into my hair at the base of my neck. Several seconds pass and we only hold each other, sharing our breath, melting together. Another buzz from his damn phone, and he releases me.

Quickly he pushes his clothes into his duffel and takes the keys. In the kitchen he stops and pulls me close again. “I promise not to prolong this.” Turning me to the side, he puts a large hand over my tiny baby bump. “Love you,” he whispers, and I catch his cheek, guiding his lips to mine.

I’m off the floor in his embrace. Mouths open, tongues unite, I’m kissing him like he’s headed into battle, which in a sense he is. My only comfort is Patrick’s promise to have his back.

Another buzz, and I almost forget I’m on Team Patrick now. “I don’t want you to go.” I whimper.

“I know.” He sets me down and gives me a peck on the nose, another on the forehead as he inhales deeply. “I love your scent.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

And with that, he’s gone.

Chapter 9: Not the Good Guys

Derek

Baltimore is cold and windy when we arrive. Patrick’s booked us three rooms in the Four Seasons on Harbor East—perfect for our setup, and close to potential hook-up locations. I’ve promised Melissa to make this happen as quickly as possible, but the truth is, we’ve got to establish ourselves in this location, make a plan, and scout the best place for the ultimate encounter.

Toni arrived the night before, and she’s asked to go by Star Brandon again for this gig. Seems that’s her go-to alias. We meet at the bar for our first planning session.

“You don’t think Star sounds too… hooker-ish?” Patrick is frowning as he studies the dr

ink menu.

Toni… or Star is wearing a cream, Calvin Klein dress that hugs her slim body and ends mid-thigh. Her long hair is now wavy and colored light brown, and she’s wearing about eighty percent less makeup than at the Skinniflute. Light-brown eyeliner and mascara, pale pink lips. I hate to admit it, but she does resemble Melissa. She’s hot.

“You fell for it.” Her mouth is the only thing that gives her away—and her husky smoker’s voice.

“You were also a blonde.” Patrick laughs and has the decency to appear ashamed of himself.

I lift the tumbler of Scotch I ordered. “You’re going to have to fix your delivery to catch Sloan’s interest.”

Instantly, her voice turns soft and high, slightly breathy. “My delivery? Is this what you mean?” She blinks up at me with doe eyes.

“Shit,” I sip the beverage. “I don’t get to say this very often, but Patrick was right. You’re good.”

She smiles and lifts the vodka she ordered, holding it out to clink my glass. “Trust me, big boy. I’ll nail this bastard for you.”

“That’s the only reason I’m here.” I give her tumbler a bump.