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He felt it the moment she saw them. She sucked in a breath, whether to scream or cuss didn’t matter. He pulled her back against his front, her ass snuggled up against his zipper and his cheek against hers. The move had a double payoff—she immediately stilled, and his dick was damned happy with the arrangement.
“Quiet,” he whispered as she growled against his fingers when the goons finished busting the lock on her door with a swift boot to the hinge. It flew open with a crack. They didn’t care about quiet. Guys like that were used to doing and taking as they saw fit.
One of the pair went inside while the other stood in the doorway, one hand inside his jacket. Since it was obvious he was gripping his weapon, Dominic figured Lara had clued in enough to the danger that he could slide his hand off her mouth. He didn’t pull it away completely, though.
Just in case.
But she didn’t scream. She didn’t even cuss. She just gave a low hiss, sounding like an infuriated snake ready to strike.
“That’d be what I’m here to protect you from,” he said, his voice so low it was as if he breathed the words.
Still cheek to cheek, she barely had to turn her head to look at him. Snapping with indignant fury, her eyes shifted from him to the door, as if asking what the hell he was going to do to protect her apartment.
“They’re armed, I’m not,” he whispered. “My job is to keep you out of their hands, not to take them down.”
“Pretty sure if you do the latter, the former is moot,” she whispered back.
“No engagement.” Unless absolutely necessary. He’d keep that to himself, since he was sure her idea of necessary and his weren’t quite the same.
Slowly, he’d like to think reluctantly, she pulled away. His body instantly went cold and a little lonely without her.
Damn.
He gave in to the torment for a second, closing his eyes, leaning his forehead against the edge of the door and giving a deep sigh.
“We should call the police.”
Her whisper pulled his attention back to the task at hand. He opened his eyes, peering through the crack at her apartment, with its door swinging drunkenly, only hinged on the bottom.
“Bet one of your neighbors already did,” he said. “The goons know it—they’ll be gone before the sirens get here.”
“What...” Her words trailed off in a volley of cursing echoed out of her apartment. She puffed out a nervous breath, then finished, “Are they looking for?”
Before Dominic had to decide how he wanted to answer that, the men reappeared in her door. After a quick consultation, they headed out. Neither bothered to look around, clearly not giving a damn about caution.
Dominic, on the other hand, was careful to give them a solid sixty seconds to clear the hall before he eased the door open. Gesturing for Lara to wait, he paused only long enough to make sure she obeyed before leaving the closet. He didn’t bother with stealth as he strode down the hall. Valdero’s men weren’t looking for him.
It only took a glance to be sure they were gone, but he still checked the stairs and landing, as well as the other hallways, always keeping the closet in sight.
A minute later, sure they’d left the building, he returned to Lara’s apartment. What a mess. He shook his head before gesturing for her to join him.
Lara stopped in her doorway, shock chased off her face by fury. Neither disguised the grief, though.
Dominic grimaced. He knew he wasn’t responsible. He hadn’t brought the goons here. Still, he felt like shit over her expression.
“Sweetheart, you’re safe. That’s what counts here.”
She wet her lips, looking around the destruction that’d once been her apartment. It didn’t look as if she had a lot of possessions, which had probably accounted for the quickness of their search.
“What were they looking for?” she wondered aloud.
“You.”
She bit her lip, eyeing a silk nightie in midnight-blue. He wondered how low on her hips that flimsy little thing fell and how much of her long, sexy legs it showed. He’d bet that was a beautiful sight. Shame it was currently shredded to pieces and anchored to her wall with what appeared to be one of her own steak knives. Her teeth snapped together with a loud click.
“Why?”
“To hurt your brother.” He kicked aside what’d once been her telephone on his way to the window. Before he glanced out, he shot her a look over his shoulder. “Oh, wait, you don’t have a brother.”
She muttered something that sounded like once a pain in the ass, always a pain in the ass. But that was the only acknowledgment she gave his comment, instead crossing the room to check to see if the bathroom had been hit as hard.
