Mine to Protect (Mine 6)

No wonder trust is hard…

“And when I was twenty-one, I thought I was in love. He was a law student, just a few years older than me. Tom was smart, charming, way too handsome.”

He hated the dick.

“He was also on my father’s payroll. Not that I realized that, of course. I would hardly have dated the guy, have slept with him, if I’d known that.”

Maybe hate wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Victor felt about Tom.

“Can you believe that?” Zoe continued. “My father had handpicked the guy he wanted me to marry. A man he could control. Manipulate totally.”

Fucking hell. The burn in Victor’s chest got worse with every word she spoke.

“I found out that news quite by accident.” Her body brushed against Victor’s. “That’s usually the way I find out. I mean, it’s not like people come up to me and say, ‘Hi. I’m here to betray you.’”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It was one of those random things with Tom. We were living in Vegas. My father never spent a lot of time there, he was more of an East Coast guy, so I thought I was safe. I went into a restaurant one day—and, bam, Tom was sitting in a back both, looking all cozy as he was chatting up my father. My father,” she said again, voice going husky. “One of the coldest human beings in the world. A mob boss. A monster. And Tom was drinking champagne with him.”

Don’t say another word. Don’t say—

“Tom saw me, and instead of being embarrassed or shocked, he called me over. He was celebrating, you see. He’d passed the bar exam, and my dad had just given his approval for Tom to go ahead and marry me. Everything was going to be all in the family now.” She’d slid back down, and she put her head on his chest, close to the spot that burned. His hands rose. Hesitant, so very hesitant, he hugged her. “Tom was going to take his place in my father’s organization. I was going to be the good little wife. Oh, Tom had so many grand plans for the two of us.”

“What did you do?”

“I walked out of the restaurant. Tom followed me. Told me that I couldn’t blow his chance. You see…he only got the job with Luther if I was his wife. Sort of a package deal. And he really wanted that job.”

The sonofabitch should have wanted you.

“I told him the man I loved would never make a deal with Luther Bates. Not for anything. He laughed and said that I didn’t understand just how much money was involved. We could have everything. The world would be ours.” Her voice turned distant. “But I didn’t want the world Luther Bates offered. Not after all the things he’d done. I mean, was I seriously supposed to smile and act like my father was an adoring man and not a cold-blooded killer?”

The man I loved would never make a deal with Luther Bates.

“Zoe…” This shit was going to be brutal. “There is something you need to know.”

“Sorry.” She stepped away from him. “I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you like that. But I was serious—you do make me happy, Victor. For once, I don’t have to worry that you’re trying to get in on my father’s good side.”

No, I’m just trying to take down the bastard, by using you. Victor felt like absolute shit. “Listen, Zoe—”

And then he heard it. A tap on the door. His head whipped toward the sound. Someone was on the other side of that motel room door. Not one of his team members, not at that time of the night. Victor didn’t waste any time second guessing himself. Didn’t try to call out a warning. He just grabbed Zoe and they slammed down onto the floor…

Right before bullets blasted through the door.

Chapter Five

The bullets hadn’t made a sound—there had been no thunder, no explosions that blasted like fireworks.

One moment, Zoe had been realizing that she’d just done a serious overshare with Victor, and in the next instant Victor had tackled her to the floor…and bullets had started flying.

The only sounds she could hear were the crack of the wood as the bullets flew through the thin motel door and the shatter of glass as they blasted out the window on the other side of that little room.

“Don’t move,” Victor whispered into her ear.

She needed to move. They needed to move. They needed to get the hell out of there.

The shooter was obviously using a silencer again, but…somebody must have heard the glass breaking, right? Didn’t that mean someone would be rushing to their rescue? And, dammit, Victor had said this place was safe!

He reached around her, moving his hand toward the small, bedside table. She squinted hard in the dark and realized that he’d just grabbed his gun. Zoe couldn’t even remember the guy leaving the gun on that table, but she had been, uh, a little busy before they’d gone to bed. She’d also closed her eyes and faked sleep during his stripping adventure, so maybe she’d missed the gun part entirely.

He eased the weapon off the nightstand.

The guy at the door had stopped firing.

Why isn’t someone coming to help us?

“There’s no point in dying for her, is there, Special Agent?” It was a man’s voice. No accent. Clear and calm and almost friendly.

Victor’s gun was inches from her face. His body was still on top of hers, his legs between hers. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else. Since she was only clad in her underwear and bra, the pose was pretty damn intimate…or it would have been, if they hadn’t been so close to dying.

“I’m not here to kill you, Special Agent,” the man continued. “So you can just turn away and not get hurt. She’s the one I need.”

“Too fucking bad,” Victor whispered.

“And I’m afraid…” The door gave a long, low groan as it opened. What had he done? Shot the flimsy lock? “I’m afraid that I can’t leave without her—”

Victor had his gun aimed at the door and when he heard that door groan once more, he fired.

The thunder of his gunfire had her ears hurting. He shot once, twice.

The guy in the doorway cried out—a pain-filled sound—but he fired back. Victor grunted, and he shoved off Zoe. His gun blasted once again.

Then—

A long, low moan drifted across the room. Zoe was still on the floor, afraid to move, afraid to make herself any more of a target.

“No damn way were you getting her,” Victor said.

Then the lights flashed on.

Zoe blinked against that too-bright light. Then her gaze jerked toward the doorway—and Victor.

He still had his gun in his hand. His muscles were locked, tense and powerful, as he stood over his prey. His bleeding prey. Because the guy on the floor had been hit, and blood was already soaking his shirt. The guy’s skin was ashen, and his body shuddered.

A gun was near the injured man’s right hand. But, the guy’s hand? It was currently crushed beneath Victor’s foot.

Zoe scrambled forward and grabbed that gun. It was slick in her hands. No, her hands were slick with sweat. And the gun was freaking huge, mostly because of the big silencer on it.

“You’re dying.” Victor’s words were flat. “You know you’re fucking dead. No way you live long enough for help to get here.”

Ice coated Zoe’s skin. All that blood…Victor’s right.

“So do one good thing with your life,” Victor continued, voice grating. “Tell me who hired you. Tell me who sent you after her.”

The man’s gaze slid toward Zoe. A blue gaze, filled with pain. Fury. Fear. “You…you won’t live long…either…”

“Who the fuck hired you?” Victor snarled.

“He won’t…save y-you…” The guy was spitting blood as he talked. “Others…k-keep c-coming…” His body jerked but he kept smiling.

Zoe’s chin lifted. “Yes, maybe someone else will come after me. But you know what? I’m not the one dying tonight. You are.”

And the fear grew in his eyes. This man—this hitman had taken so many lives—and now he was afraid of dying.

“How do you think they all felt?” Zoe

asked him. “Your victims? Do you think they were as scared as you are?”

His smiled faded. That fear was so bright and strong and when the last breath wheezed from his lungs…

The fear was still in his eyes.

Oh, God. He just died right in front of me. Her hands were shaking so badly, jerking and trembling as she checked for a pulse that wasn’t there.

Victor’s fingers closed over hers. “Let me take the gun.”

Her gaze snapped away from the dead man as she focused on Victor’s face.

“I don’t want you to accidentally fire.” He pulled the gun from her. “No more wounds tonight.”

That was when she realized—“You’re bleeding!” Blood was streaming down his arm.

And a dead hitman is at our feet. How is this my life?

“Flesh wound.” Victor shrugged it off, like a bullet wound was totally nothing to him, being the super special agent that he was. Bullshit. A bullet wound is a bullet wound! “We need to get out of here.”

She shook her head.

“This place is seriously compromised. With the bounty on your head, another hitman could show any second.” He pushed her toward the bed, away from the body. “I’ll call Russell and he can get a clean-up crew out here.”

A clean-up crew? “Luther used the same kind of crew.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. Held tight. “Heard him call for them before…”