Wanted (Most Wanted 1)

"Hey." I flashed a quick smile, hoping I didn't look disappointed to see him.

"Hey, yourself."

I leaned in to receive his sweet kiss. And, damn me all to hell, all I could think as my lips brushed this man's was whether or not Evan was watching.

I pulled away and forced myself to focus entirely on the man I'd just kissed. "Everything okay? Do you have to go in?"

"No crises," he said. "Truth, justice, and the American way can continue on without me."

He gently kissed my temple, and as I glanced between him and Evan, I had to wonder why the hell I was stalling. This was an incredibly kind and thoughtful man who had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to move past casual dating into a more serious relationship, and yet I was still caught up in lingering teenage fantasies? Honestly, did men get more upstanding and eligible than FBI agents? And considering my father had introduced us, he already had the parental seal of approval.

Purposefully, I moved closer, hooking my arms around his waist, then tilting my head up to look at his face. His wavy blonde hair was neatly trimmed and his blue eyes held charm and humor. All in all, he had nice-guy good looks, like the cute quarterback who's not as sexy as the guy in leather with the low-slung car, but still totally hot. "I really appreciate you being here with me."

"I told SAC Burnett that I needed to be here for you today," he said, referring to the special agent in charge to whom he reported. His gaze flicked in turn over Cole and Tyler and Evan. "I'll get back to kicking criminal butt tomorrow."

"Who are you hounding now, Agent Warner?" Evan asked. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but also the tightness of control. Both Tyler and Cole must have heard it, too, because they each cut a sharp glance Evan's way. I had the impression that Cole was going to say something but thought better of it.

"Whoever the evidence points to," Kevin said. "Follow the trail long enough, and you find the asshole at the end."

"Evidence," Evan said, his tone musing. "I thought you boys stopped worrying about evidence years ago. Isn't the method now to fling shit and see what sticks?"

"If you're suggesting that we go to whatever lengths are necessary to gather the evidence that we need," Kevin said smoothly, "then you're absolutely right."

Any pretense of humor in the conversation had now been firmly erased. I winced, remembering too late that the FBI had been all in the trio's face about five years ago. I'd seen the newspaper articles and had asked Jahn about it. He told me not to worry--that a business rival had made some nasty accusations, but that his knights would have their names cleared soon enough. I'd been deep into finals, and so I'd taken my uncle at his word. And, since nothing else popped up in the news, I forgot all about it.

Clearly Evan hadn't forgotten, and the air around us crackled with an uncomfortable, prickly kind of tension.

I cleared my throat, determined to change the subject. "How was the hospital dedication?"

"Inconvenient," Evan snapped. He shoved his hands in his pockets, then drew in a breath, and it didn't take superhuman observational skills to see he was making an effort to rein in his temper. "Sorry," he said, his voice now gentle.

He turned slightly, and for the first time since he joined our group, he looked in my direction. "The dedication--hell, the entire wing--means a lot to me and even more to the kids we're going to be helping, but I needed to be here." For the briefest of moments, he looked directly into my eyes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "He was a good man," Evan said, and the pain I heard in his voice reflected my own. "He'll be missed."

"He will," Kevin said. His voice sounded stiff and stilted, and I had to fight the urge to pull out of his arms, because he didn't get it. How could he? He didn't really know my uncle; he didn't really understand what I'd lost.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly thick with tears. I clenched my fists, as if mere force of will could keep the grief at bay.

It didn't help. I felt suddenly lost. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to anchor, and any moment now I knew I would spin out of control.

Damn.

I'd been doing so well--missing Jahn, yes, but not crossing the line into self-pity. I'd been surviving, and the fact that I was coping had made me proud.

I wasn't coping anymore. Evan's coldness had thrown me off my game, and without warning, I'd become antsy and all sorts of fucked up. I wanted to step out of this weird triangle made up of me and Evan and Kevin, but I couldn't seem to move.

All I knew was that Uncle Jahn had always been my way in. He'd always understood me. He'd always been there to rescue me.

But he wasn't there right then--and to my total mortification, the tears began to flow.

"Angie," Evan murmured. "Oh, baby, it's okay."

I have no idea how it happened, but suddenly my face was pressed to Evan's chest and he was holding me and his hand was stroking my back and his voice was soothing me, telling me that I should let it out. That it would be okay. That I would be okay.

I clung to him, soaking up the solace that he was offering. His body was hard and firm and strong, and I didn't want to let go. I wanted to draw in his strength and claim it as my very own.

But then my nose started to run, and I pulled back, afraid of mucking up his gazillion dollar tux. "Thanks," I said, or at least I tried to. I don't think the word actually left my mouth, because when I looked up at him, it wasn't friendly concern that I saw. No, it was heat. It was desire. Vibrant and pure and absolutely unmistakable.

And it was wild enough to burn a hole right through me.

I gasped, and the sound seemed to flip a switch in him. Then--as quickly as it appeared--that fire was gone, and I was left feeling cold and bereft and desperately confused.

"She needs you," Evan said, passing me off to Kevin, who took me into his arms even as a shadow crossed his face.

"Didn't you want to say something to the crowd?" Cole asked, his voice reminding me that he and Tyler were standing just inches away, their penetrating eyes taking in everything.

"I did," Evan said, his expression now bland and his tone businesslike, as if that could erase those last few seconds. But it was too late, and everything had changed. I'd seen it. Seen? Hell, what I'd seen in his face had just about knocked me over.

But he was walking away from me now, and as I watched him go--as I stood there clinging tightly to Kevin's hand--I knew that if I wanted him, I was going to have to go after him.

Because where Evan Black and I were concerned, he would always walk away.

And in a moment of sudden clarity, I goddamn knew the reason why.

three

I started my freshman year at Northwestern right about the time that Evan was dropping out, too successful in all of his various ventures to bother with anything as mundane as grad school.

The air seemed scented with lilac that fall, and Jahn had thrown one of his famous parties. Evan was there, of course, flanked as usual by Tyler and Cole. I'd sat with them by the pool, my bare feet dangling in the water as I answered their questions about how I was surviving my first weeks.

The conversation was casual and easy, and I was proud of myself for playing it cool. Or I was until Jahn asked me to go inside with him to pick out a bottle of wine.

"You know that you're like a daughter to me," he said, once we were standing in the bright and airy kitchen, looking out at the pool through the huge bay window.

"Sure," I said happily. Then I caught sight of his face and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, just the tiniest of motions. But the shadow in his eyes suggested something else entirely. "I just hope you know that I would do anything for you. That I'll protect you from anything and anyone."

My chest tightened and I felt the beads of perspiration rise on my lip. "What's going on?" My mind filled with images of knives and threats, of assault and rape. Oh, god, no. Surely--

"No." Jahn's voice was as forceful as his hand clutched around my wrist. "No," he repeated,

but this time more gently. "That's not what I'm talking about. Nothing like that."

Slowly, my fear ebbed. "Then what is it?"

"I've seen the way you look at them, Angie."

"Them?" For the briefest of moments, I was genuinely confused. Then I got it--and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

"Those boys will always look out for you," he said, ignoring my discomfiture. "They'll watch over you until the end of time because you're important to me. But it can't ever go further than that. Not with any one of them." His voice had hardened, taking on a commanding and serious tone that I rarely heard from him. "I said I'd protect you," he said. "Even if that means protecting you from yourself."

"I don't know what you--" I began, but he cut me off sharply.

"They're not the men for you," he said firmly. He faced me straight on, his expression deadly serious. "And they know that you're off-limits to them."

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again, because what the hell was I supposed to say? This was totally freaking surreal.

My instinct was to deny, deny, deny. But curiosity got the better of me. "What's wrong with them?" I asked.