Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)

He didn’t need to.

That much was obvious from a glance. Yes, Cristian was caught between the wall and the man who’d been following him. But judging from the bare, flushed skin exposed by their open shirts and dark teeth marks on each other’s skin, Cristian wasn’t in any physical danger. Well, unless suffering blue balls counted.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cristian demanded, not relinquishing his hold on the other man, who continued to paw at Cristian’s well-muscled chest. A very naked chest Atlas couldn’t stop staring at. “You are not needed, Mr. Kinkaid.”

“You sure, baby?” the other man murmured against Cristian’s neck, giving Atlas a slow once-over. “I’m game if you are—”

Cristian slid his fingers up the man’s neck and clutched at his hair, quieting him with the movement. Atlas wished the man hadn’t shut up. Holding Cristian’s gaze was more intimate than he’d expected. Maybe it was Cristian’s flush, or the way his fingers tightened and drew an amused groan from his lover.

Whatever it was, Atlas did not like it. He did not like how easily someone slipped past his—and the rest of the security’s—guard. He did not like that Cristian blamed him for doing his job, as if, by bursting in, he broke some kind of rule he had no knowledge of. And, more than anything, he absolutely did not like the prickle of dark anger in the pit of his gut, the frustration bursting into life over seeing Cristian debauched in a stranger’s arms. Someone unvetted, who could have hurt Cristian before Atlas had a chance to intervene, destroying his career and Bea’s reputation in a single moment.

No, Atlas did not care for that shit at all.

“Who is this?” he asked.

Cristian opened his mouth to answer, but bit his lower lip in frustration when he couldn’t come up with the name. The other man, seemingly unoffended by it, offered, “James.”

“Yes,” Cristian said, “this is James.” The man in question nuzzled at Cristian’s neck. Cristian hissed, his head tilting back to grant better access. “Leave, Mr. Kinkaid.”

“Mr. Slava,” Atlas bit out, “an unknown man followed you in here. I am not leaving until I know he’s not a threat.”

“A sexual threat, maybe,” James laughed. It was not a funny joke.

Atlas’s world narrowed to the still chuckling man in Cristian’s arms. He would show this asshole exactly how easily he could neutralize a threat.

James must have sensed the danger, because he lifted his mouth from Cristian’s neck when Atlas took a step forward and warned, “He told you to go.” He nipped at Cristian’s collarbone, smiling when Cristian sucked in a startled breath in response. “Think you need a new bodyguard,” he mumbled against the reddening skin. “This one doesn’t listen.”

Enough. Contractually, he had to put up with Cristian’s crappy attitude, but that did not require him to suffer any other fools. Atlas took a step forward, eyeing the best place to grab James, but a hand settling firmly on his shoulder stopped his forward momentum.

He hadn’t heard anyone enter the room behind him, a concerning sign of how distracted he’d let himself become in the heat of the moment. The rumbling question in Romanian, too fast to catch any words, came from Andrei. There was also movement to his left as Ioana stepped up next to him and addressed Cristian. She sounded resigned, not surprised, to arrive at such a scene.

Cristian answered with a sharp tone Atlas hadn’t heard him direct toward his friends before. They must not have been used to it either, since Andrei sucked in a breath and Ioana narrowed her eyes at whatever vitriol had been spewed in their direction. Cristian dragged James’s mouth off his neck, ordered in English for him to wait for a second, and spoke again to Ioana in Romanian. When he finished, she sighed and turned to face Atlas.

“We need to go,” she said flatly. “If not, he’ll call his father.” And, as if she knew what Atlas was about to argue, she continued, “He’s done this before. Decebal will side with him. He always has.”

Andrei released Atlas, as if the threat of Decebal’s ill humor was enough to ensure his compliance. Probably a mistake on Andrei’s part. Atlas closed the distance to Cristian and James. He pulled James away, stepping between him and Cristian to form a physical barrier. Cristian’s body brushed against his back. The memory of his bare skin was a distraction Atlas couldn’t afford. A potential threat still stood before him.

James’s surprised expression soothed some of Atlas’s anger, but not enough to keep the venom from dripping into his voice. “I’ll leave. After I do my job and search Jimmy here.”

James squeaked. Ioana and Andrei tried to reason with Atlas. Cristian remained silent. His shocking lack of protest was all the encouragement Atlas needed. He patted down James with brusque efficiency. He didn’t even give a sharp, cruel twist to the man’s balls, though he was sorely tempted to. Deserved a fucking medal for his professionalism. By the time he’d finished, James looked suitably chastised and sexually frustrated, Constantin and Vasilica had found them, and Atlas thought he was prepared to face Cristian’s rage. He gave James a nod and announced, to no one in particular, “He’s clean,” before turning to face his charge.

He’d expected anger from Cristian. Instead, he found the flush of embarrassment. “Happy?” Cristian spat, unable to meet his gaze.

Oh, fuck.

“No,” Atlas said.

He hadn’t meant to humiliate Cristian in front of everyone. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to do his job well. He wanted—

Fuck, he didn’t have words to explain it all, especially since he wasn’t sure he understood his reaction. Vetting sexual partners was a familiar, albeit awkward, part of the job. He’d never done it with such a personal investment though. He needed to pull back and try to get the situation back under control. He promised Cristian, “Now that I know he’s not a threat to you, I’ll leave you two alone.”

Cristian laughed, a low, hollow thing, and shook his head. “He’s not a threat. You are, but not him.” He finally looked at Atlas, really looked at him, and Atlas’s heart sank at his bitter curiosity. “I’ve never seen you lose your control before, Mr. Kinkaid. How interesting. Makes me wonder why.” He leaned in, bare chest on display and his breath warm on Atlas’s cheek. The allure vanished with his explosive words, which wounded Atlas like a shot to the chest. “Did you wish it was you?”

He flushed.

“Bad puppy,” Cristian whispered.

“Cristian.” Ioana’s sharp call cemented Atlas’s fuck up. She’d heard the exchange. The others likely had too.