“Croy, you––”
“No one got anywhere near you on my watch,” I snarled at Brig, getting up fast, forcing him and Eric to jerk apart as I charged between them, striding quickly to the table where breakfast was spread out. I was only after the coffee.
“Who the hell do you––”
I lifted my hand to shut Eric up, because I still had my gun on me, and I was not opposed to the idea of putting a bullet in his leg to make him stop talking. It was too early for the level of noise.
“Croy,” Brig said gently, clearly wanting to play peacemaker, “I wanted to tell you that all your advice yesterday was very appreciated and really helped prepare me for my conversation with Eric last night.”
Eric looked startled and then pointed at me. “This was who you talked to?”
Brig nodded as someone began whaling on the suite door.
“Jesus!” Eric gasped and then looked at me, glaring now. “You’re not going to draw your gun? I would pull mine, but I had to fly commercial, so I had to leave it at home.” He said the last part so snidely that it took everything in me to put creamer into my coffee, stir, and then take a sip instead of kicking him in the kneecap.
“I don’t know a lot of assassins that knock,” I explained with a smirk.
“Open the fuckin’ door!” Dallas yelled from the hall.
I gave Brig a slight nod.
Rushing across the room, he threw open the door, and Special Agent Dallas Bauer stormed in and over to me, stopping only inches away, clearly furious, if the wild look in his eyes was any indication. On the other hand, his hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he smelled like bergamot and citrus, with an odd trace of pepper incense. I was a fan. His suit was a disaster, like it had been crumpled in a ball in the back seat of his car, and he wasn’t even wearing a tie. It didn’t matter. All I registered was that he was clean, and that he had a small black backpack slung over his right shoulder. For whatever reason, my mind jumped to he’d packed a bag, he was going to stay with me. It made zero sense, but that was the first thing I thought of.
“Hi,” I said, and I tried not to smile, but it happened anyway.
It must not have been my usual fake, pained one, but something else showing on my face, because I watched as he calmed, took a breath, and stood there in front of me, relaxed but also solid and strong. The temptation to kiss him was nearly overwhelming. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward, slip my hand around the side of his neck, draw him close and take the kiss I wanted. Not moving seemed counterintuitive, but I didn’t want to take liberties I hadn’t asked for, or made clear that I craved. So I stood there instead of reaching for him, my entire focus on his lush mouth until those beautiful, full lips of his curled into a crooked grin. Only then did my eyes lift to his, our gazes colliding.
“Hi,” I repeated, sounding every bit as enthralled as I was, and addled, which I was not. I had a fleeting worry that my heart was going to pound its way out of my chest.
“I had a lot to say to you,” he told me, staring, leaning into my space to pour himself coffee as well. “But I’ll just start with, how did you know about his sister?”
“Lane? What’s happening with Lane?” Brig interrupted, joining us at the table, taking hold of Dallas’s shoulder. “Tell me.”
“Move your hand,” I demanded sharply, my voice cold, devoid of anything but menace and warning.
Brig’s eyes widened, and he released his grip at the same time as Dallas tipped his head toward me, giving me all his attention.
“What?” I snapped at him, annoyed with the rakish grin I was on the receiving end of.
“So possessive,” he said to himself, chuckling as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m in so much fuckin’ trouble.”
“I’m sorry?” Brig asked him, taking a seat as well, Eric following his lead.
“Nothing,” Dallas muttered, pulling out the chair beside him before lifting his gaze to mine again. “Sit.”
I did as I was told, because even though it was just the one word, his tone was silky, boozy, smooth, like he wasn’t himself, almost drunk, even though I knew he wasn’t. It was me. I was having the lulling narcotic effect on him, changing what was normally fierce and demanding in him to something slow and easy. The fact that he was having the opposite effect on me, making me demand that Brig step back and not touch him, was so out of character that I should have been worried. Instead, I made sure that my knee touched his under the table as I slid into the chair. Brig and Eric were across from us, all four of us sitting around the breakfast spread as though on a double date.