Mine to Protect (Mine 6)

He moved, blocking her path. “What happened?”

She lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. “You’ve met Luther, haven’t you? Stared at him, face to face?”

Yes.

“I told him that he had to stop. That he couldn’t keep doing those terrible things.” Her breath whispered out. “At first, he laughed at me.”

“Zoe…”

“And then he hit me so hard that I flew across the room.”

Fucking hell. Victor’s hands fisted.

“I got a concussion. Six stitches in the back of my head.” She shrugged. “Apparently, no one questions Luther Bates, not even his daughter.”

He wanted to touch her. So badly. He also wanted to beat the ever loving hell out of her father.

“My mother saw what he’d done. She’d always been there for him, smiling so brightly when he appeared at the door, only waiting to cry when he left. But that day, when she picked me up from the floor and my blood was on her hands, she stopped smiling for him.” Her voice lowered with each word she spoke. “She told him to leave. Not to come back.” Her lashes fell, shielding her eyes. “Luther Bates doesn’t like to be told no.”

He thought of Zoe’s file. Fifteen. She’d been fifteen and—

Hell.

“If you read my file, you’ll know that my mother…she was…killed in a home invasion. That attack happened just a few days after she told Luther to stay away from us.”

Had Luther ordered the attack? Paid for it to look like—

“Two months after her death, Luther shipped my ass off to boarding school. Some fancy ass place where I didn’t belong. But at least I wasn’t with him anymore.”

Holy fucking hell. Just what had happened during those two months that she spent with her father? He sucked in a deep breath and tried to figure out where he should push the hardest. The mother. Start there. “You had to know your mother’s death was suspicious.”

She gave a broken laugh. “Trust me, I knew plenty.”

Tell me plenty, sweetheart. Tell me. “Did he ever admit it to you? Did he ever tell you—”

“That he had my mother killed?” Her voice was just a rasp now. Her lashes lifted. She gazed up at him, and there was so much pain in her eyes. “There was no need to tell me. The police report said it was a home invasion. But I was there.”

Tell me. It was his job to get the truth from her. His hands were still fisted at his sides. Fisted so hard they hurt. Touch her. Hold her. Take away her fucking pain. Only right then, he was the one putting her in pain as he made her dig up her bloody past.

“My mother was one of the only people who actually loved him.” A tear slipped from her eye.

Oh, hell, I cannot handle her tears. “Zoe…”

“I need to shower,” she said again, voice tight. “Please, I-I need to shower.”

You need to tell me. Give me nails to shove in Luther’s coffin.

She pushed past him and ran into the bathroom. She shoved that door closed—as much as it would shut.

Victor stared at that white door and its peeling paint. He knew he couldn’t press her anymore, not right then. He had a job to do—one he didn’t like. One Zoe didn’t fully understand. Getting her to trust him, getting her to confide all in him—yeah, that was the plan. The big order from up top at the Bureau.

But right then, Zoe had been through enough. She’d nearly died—right beside him—that night. Fear was still present, curling like a snake in his gut. He wasn’t used to fear. There were only two people in the world he cared about. Two people that weren’t family, not really, but fate and circumstance had bonded them so that they were better than family. Saxon Black and Jasmine Bennett. Though Bennett wasn’t the name she used any longer…Long ago, he, Saxon and Jasmine had forged a life together on the streets. Helped each other. Supported one another.

Kept each other’s secrets.

He’d feared for them before. Been worried as all hell about their survival. But Saxon and Jasmine had beaten the threats they faced.

And his fear had faded.

Until Zoe. Until beautiful Zoe Peters had come into his life. Until she’d been threatened. When he’d thought she might be dead in that SUV with him, something had changed. The fear had come barreling back, only it had been so much worse than any terror he’d ever experienced before.

The fear hadn’t faded, not completely, and he knew it was because Zoe still wasn’t safe.

Zoe was getting under his skin. The plan had been for her to connect with him. Not for him to feel this stupid fucking tie with her. But…

It’s there. Her pain hurts me.

He headed toward the bathroom door. He could hear the roar of the shower inside. He put his hand on the door. “Zoe, do you need anything?”

There was no response. His hand moved to the doorknob. Was she crying in there? Was she—

“Just leave me alone, Victor.” Her voice was soft and so very sad.

His hand stilled on the knob. I wish I could, baby. I wish I could…but that isn’t going to happen.

***

Zoe needed clothes. When she’d been fleeing to the bus station, she hadn’t exactly stopped to pack an extra bag. Her priority had been to get away from the FBI agent, Russell Aiker, who’d been guarding her. So she’d pretty much vanished with the clothes on her back. Now Zoe stood in the middle of the bathroom, her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her body. The mirror in front of her was too fogged up for Zoe to see her own reflection. That last bit was probably a good thing—she didn’t want to look at herself right then.

After all this time, and, yes, looking in my own eyes is still too hard. Because she didn’t like what she saw in the mirror. Didn’t like it at all.

Luther’s daughter.

Maybe she’d just put back on the clothes she’d worn before. She could do that. The long sleeved t-shirt and jeans would be fine for now. Far better to wear them than to prance around in front of Victor just wearing a towel.

That would be such a bad idea. As bad as sharing a motel room with him tonight? Because Victor had only booked one room. One room with one bed.

As if her night had not been bad enough.

She heard a sharp knock—one that had her head jerking to the right. Only the knock wasn’t on the bathroom door. The sound had been too distant. Someone is outside of our motel room.

“Relax, Zoe,” Victor called out. As if he’d known she’d just gotten scared as all hell. “It’s my team.”

Good. Fabulous. His team. Not the current killer on her trail. And with more FBI agents there—their presence definitely meant it was time to put her clothes back on. She dressed as quickly as she could, not bothering with her shoes, but wearing her underwear, jeans and that t-shirt. Then she yanked open the bathroom door.

The group was waiting near the bed. Victor, looking confident and grim—his usual style. Victor’s dark hair wasn’t even tousled. His blue eyes glinted, and his broad shoulders were set with determination. Russell—he wore his suit, unwrinkled, his usual perfect style. Russell Aiker was a tall, handsome, African American in his early thirties. She actually liked Russell. And he seemed to like her, too. That was how she’d been able to give him the slip before. Don’t make the mistake of being kind to me. I use kindness.

“Hi, Zoe,” Russell murmured, his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Glad to still be alive.” Her gaze slid to the right. Ah, a new agent. A woman with blonde hair that fell to her chin and brown eyes that were assessing as they slid over Zoe, lingering just for a moment on…

My bare toes.

Zoe wiggled her toes. Then she nodded toward the woman. “Hello.” Hello, fresh meat.

The woman nodded briskly in response. “I’m Agent Lauren McDaniel.” Lauren straightened her shoulders. “I believe I’m here to take over watch duty.” Her gaze slid to Victor. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave tonight.”

Agent Lauren McDaniel was there

to do what now? Zoe marched right into that circle of agents. “Sorry, but there is a huge mistake happening here.” She took up a position near Victor. She knew he was the lead agent in that room. And he was the one who’d made a deal with her. She wasn’t going with Agent Fresh Meat anywhere. The woman sure wasn’t about to become her bunkmate for the night. “I’m not in the market for a new guard.”

Russell winced a bit. Right, sorry. I ran out on him last night. She cast a quick, apologetic glance his way.

“Do you have a death wish, ma’am?” Lauren asked her, voice tight.

Zoe’s eyes widened.

“I warned her,” Russell muttered.

“Because I have read your file,” Lauren continued doggedly, “and I know all about the risks you have taken. You keep running from us, when all we want to do is keep you safe. But how are we supposed to adequately do our jobs when you fight us every step of the way?” Lauren nodded toward Zoe. “You should be grateful for our assistance. You should be—”

Zoe held up her hand. “I love it when people tell me what I should be. Truly, one of my favorite things in life.” She was not liking Fresh Meat. Zoe turned to face Victor. “I thought we had an agreement.” A very recent agreement. “What happened to that deal? Are you seriously turning me over to blondie there?”

His gaze was guarded. She hated that. Why was he always hiding his emotions from her?

“That’s your usual MO,” Zoe threw at him, growing angrier with every second that passed. “Stop me from fleeing—like I want—stop me from getting on with my life. Bring me back to some safe house. Hand me off to another agent. Then vanish…”

“And your MO is to start the cycle all over,” Victor responded. “To lull the new agent into a false sense of security. To act like you’re following the rules. Then as soon as the agent’s attention shifts away, you run.”

Her shoulders lifted, then fell. “A girl has to do what a girl has to do.” She wasn’t apologizing. She’d told him exactly why she’d been at the bus station. Michelle. Michelle was still missing.

Even before the FBI had pulled Zoe into their web, she and Michelle had been using a secret way of staying in contact with one another. They’d set up calls—once a month. Check-in calls. She’d snuck away from her FBI guards a few times to make those calls. And at first, everything had been fine…

Then Michelle stopped answering. When Michelle hadn’t responded for two months, Zoe had become desperate. She’d started reaching out to old contacts. Only…the word from my contacts in Vegas is that no one knows where Michelle went. She vanished…

I have to find her.