Headhunter (With Me in Seattle Mafia 2)
“I’m okay.” He tips his forehead against mine. “I had a bad minute when he fought back. You said the screens went black?”
“Yeah, he must have shot the camera. They all went out. But not before I saw him struggle with you, take your gun, and then it went off. I was a mess of nerves.”
“I was afraid that would happen to the monitors. The fucker who wired them did it wrong. I’ll look at them.”
“Forget the monitors. How was he able to surprise you like that?”
“We were laughing at his last name. I didn’t expect him to fight back, honestly. And that’s my fault. I know better than to let my guard down for even a second. We recovered quickly, but the damage was done. It was a stupid mistake, and one I don’t plan to repeat.”
“Is Curt okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is the other guy dead?”
Shane’s eyes are calm. And cold. “Yes.”
I swallow hard and resume dressing his wound, keeping my fingers gentle. “Did you kill him?”
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I didn’t have to.”
“Curt killed him?”
“He self-terminated,” he replies. “I don’t know who he was. Curt’s running him right now. We found his vehicle on the road where he breached the property. Got a name and some info on him, but I’ve never heard of him before.”
“He was here for me.”
Shane’s hand tightens on mine. “He never admitted to that, but I’m pretty sure he was. He could have been sent in to assassinate me. We’ll know after Curt gets more info.”
“You?” I scowl at him. “Why would anyone want to kill you?”
There’s no humor in his laugh. “I’ve committed dozens, if not hundreds of sins in my lifetime, Ivie.”
“We all have.”
He cups my face gently. “Not like me. I belong to a very small club, honey.”
“So, you’re never safe.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I wish you’d tell me more. Help me understand you. I just want to know you, Shane.”
“You do know me. In all the ways that matter. Now, get this sewn up before I bleed out.”
“I don’t think you’re going to bleed out. You don’t even need stitches.” But I reach for the antiseptic and dab at the wound. “You took his gun away. How did he kill himself?”
“He had a blade. Cut his own throat.”
I still and stare down at him with my mouth agape. “Jesus.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What did you do with his body?”
He kisses the inside of my wrist. “It won’t be found. Well, animals might get him, but that’s it. The body, and the vehicle, are long gone.”
“So, I shouldn’t ask questions.”
“You can ask them. I don’t know how much I’ll tell you, though. The less you know, the better.”
I don’t necessarily agree with that, but I keep my opinion to myself and cover the injury. After I put the supplies away, I turn to walk out of the bathroom, but Shane snags my wrist and tugs me back into his arms.
“I’m sorry I was gruff with you,” he says against my hair. I melt against him, soaking in his warmth and strength. “I need to keep you safe. Not because you’re a job to me, Ivie. But because if anything were to ever happen to you, I don’t think I would survive it.”
My heart might explode from the admission. I glance up at him, but before I can say anything, Shane crushes his mouth to mine and lifts me, carrying me to the bed.
“The thought of you being hurt out there was pure torture,” I admit against his lips as he tugs my shirt out of my jeans. “I know I should have stayed. But I couldn’t see you. I heard the gunshot, and I didn’t know. Shane—”
“I know.” He gently covers my mouth with his. “I know, baby.”
The room is hushed and dim with the blinds closed as, without a word, we undress and come together once more. Our touches are just a little more reverent. Our kisses linger, and each breath, each moment is more beautiful than the last.
We tumble over the linens, and when we join, I gasp and then moan as he begins to move, thrusting in just the right rhythm to make my body sing in pleasure.
His fingers lace with mine, and he pins my hands above my head.
“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters before nibbling on my lips. “You’re everything.”
I tilt my hips, meeting every thrust, then tighten around him as the orgasm moves through me, taking me by surprise.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let go, baby.”
“Shane.”
His body clenches above mine, and his hands tighten on mine as he lets himself go.
And later, when we’re lying together in the waning light of the afternoon, he turns to me for more.
* * *
“Brutus Sugarbaker,” Curt says with a shrug. We’re all sitting in the 007 room, eating pizza and staring at the monitor. Brutus’s face fills the screen. It looks like a mugshot. “Forty-seven. From Atlanta.”