Lifeline

I nod then turn to Lindsay. “Lock behind me. My phone will be on silent, but I’ll check it when I can, so call if you need me.”

“I plan on studying until you get home.”

“Nice meeting you, Lindsay,” O’Brien says before stepping out of the house.

“You too,” she calls cheerfully after him.

“Don’t wait up.” I give her a hug. “Remember to lock all the doors and windows.”

“He’s hot,” she whispers against my ear. “Good luck.”

“Gonna need it.” I let go of her and dart out the front door.

I climb into the passenger side of a black Pontiac that’s in immaculate condition. As I tug on the seat belt and O’Brien pulls away from the curb, he asks, “You still live with your mother and sister?”

“No.” I glance at him, and the meager light makes him look more like a criminal than an agent. I can see why he blends in so easily when he’s undercover. “Our mom lives in Miami with her husband. Lindsay chose to stay with me.”

“So it’s just the two of you in New York?” he asks, a slight frown darkening his features, and it feels as if he’s mentally adding, ‘Two women living alone is looking for trouble.’

“I’m capable of taking care of my sister.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he mutters, his attention on the road.

“The frown on your forehead begs to differ.”

His sharp gaze shoots to mine, stunning me for a moment. “Don’t analyze me, Jefferson.”

An uncomfortable atmosphere settles between us until I gather my courage. “Sorry, I’m just overprotective of Lindsay. I didn’t mean to analyze you.”

“Drop it,” O’Brien mutters, his attention on the streets as he drives us to New Jersey.

Shit.

Silence stretches between us until I’m wound tight. “Is this your car?” I ask, just to make conversation. Even though the vehicle is a model from the seventies, it’s clear a lot of love and effort’s been put into it.

He just nods.

The nerves spinning in my stomach tighten because he’s shut down.

Ugh. It’s going to be a long night.

O’Brien

I need to control the damn protectiveness I feel for JJ. Knowing it’s just the two of them in that house makes me feel edgy and JJ going on the defense didn’t help at all.

I focus on squashing my emotions as I park down the street from Jezebel, an Albanian club.

JJ’s been quiet since I snapped at her, and I’m starting to feel shitty. Hiding who I am has become second nature from going undercover so often. When someone starts digging, you attack to divert their attention.

The silence between us keeps thickening as I glance up and down the street. Taking off the seat belt, I turn and reach for the bag behind JJ’s seat. It puts me close to her, and I get a lung full of her soft scent. My eyes automatically go to her face, locking with her blue ones. Her features are tight with nerves, only making her look more innocent as if she’s done something wrong and is waiting for a spanking from a parent.

Spanking. JJ. Jesus Christ.

I rip the bag to the front and settle back in the seat while a hard tremor of desire goes straight for my cock. Opening the bag, I hand JJ a pair of binoculars. Our fingers brush, sending an unwanted current of tingles up my arm.

Fuck my life. It’s going to be a long night.

I take out the binoculars with an integrated camera and adjust the scopes, so I have a clear view of the club’s entrance. We’re in a not-so-safe area, and the club stands out like a diamond in the rough. No one would dare vandalize it, though.

Usually, silence wouldn’t bother me, but right now, it’s annoying the living hell out of me.

Fuck, this woman is getting under my skin by just breathing.

I take out a notebook and pen, then hand the bag to JJ. “Keep it by your feet.”

When she just nods, shoving it down in front of her, I clench my teeth and lift the binoculars to my eyes, doing another sweep over the entrance of the club.

“Do you think the Bregu brothers will come to the club?” JJ asks, her tone tight and cautious as if she’s tiptoeing around a bomb that can detonate at any second.

“No.” Taking a deep breath, I glance at her, instantly hating the tension on her face. Most people find me intimidating, and it doesn’t help that I spend more time with the sadistic fucks of the world than the good. I inject a softer tone into my voice when I say, “Berisha will make an appearance. He always checks in at nine-thirty.”

She surveys the area, then asks, “Won’t they notice us just sitting here?”

“Probably,” I murmur. When she lowers the binoculars, and her gaze turns to mine, I add, “If they approach us, you have a choice of getting into a heated argument with me or making out.”