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He wrenched away and halted her with a stern point. “Stay here. Don’t you dare move,” he warned, his voice breaking with fury.
Not waiting for a response, he stalked across the restaurant in long, purposeful strides. The man glanced up as he approached, a brief show of apprehension flickering in his eyes. Sebastian wrenched him up out of his seat, his lips twisting on a snarl. His hands wrenched the other man’s shirt tight, cutting off his air supply as he slammed him against the wall. Somewhere behind them, a woman let out a frightened cry. A callous glint fueled the pale green of his eyes as he tightened his grip.
“I don’t know what you are after or why you are following me, but if you come near me or my family again, you are dead,” Sebastian growled. He released the man with a brutal shove and leveled a finger at his face. “Consider yourself warned. I won’t repeat myself again.”
Clearing his throat, the man smoothed the front of his shirt and caught his breath. “I admire your tenacity, Special Agent Baas, but you are in no position to be making threats.”
A cold smile crawled across his face. “You have no idea what I am capable of or what lengths I will go through. If I see you in my town again, I’m going to gouge out your eyes and put a bullet in your skull.”
The man weighed his warning with a light nod. “That may be true, but it won’t end your problems. I’m merely the beginning. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Patrick James is dead. If you value your family as much as you claim, you will leave it that way.”
Cocking his head, his eyes narrowed to scrutinizing slits. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Consider me an ambassador.”
“What I consider you is a man with a death wish.”
“Call off the search and get your organization under control. Quit trying to bite the hand that feeds you. SKALS may be powerful, but this is one fight they won’t win.”
Stunned, he pulled back. The fact that this man knew who they were lent him serious pause.
“This is the only warning you and your team will get.”
Fury jerked him out of his baffled daze. His eyes snapped to the other man’s and his cheeks jumped with a dangerous twitch. Leaning in close, a sinister smile curved his lips. “I'd think long and hard about who and what I am before you step in something you can't wipe off. Don't come near my family again.”
“No war is without casualties,” the wiry man replied. He straightened his expensive silk suit and backed away. “Have a good night, Agent Baas.”
Sebastian glared after him. Who the hell did the Ichabod Crane looking fuck think he was? His fingers curled around the pistol holstered at his hip. He didn’t like tamping down his aggression. He was trained to eliminate problems—and this man—whoever he was, was a very definite problem. It took effort not to blow the weasely little prick to smithereens. Plowing a hand through his hair, he glanced over his shoulder at Taylor. Her grey eyes were haunted and flooded with fear. His chest tightened. The bastard was damn lucky they were in a public place. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he cursed beneath his breath and made his way back to the booth, ignoring the curious stares he garnered from the other patrons along the way.
Taylor shank back when he slid onto the seat beside her. A fact that didn’t sit well with him at all.
“Finish your dessert,” he ordered stiffly.
“Who was that guy?”
“I don’t know, Taylor.”
“If you don’t know, why did you go after him like that?”
Letting his eyes drift shut, he squeezed his temples and struggled to keep his burgeoning temper under control. “It has to do with work, and I’m not getting into it right now. Eat.”
The look she gave him was equal parts desperation and pleading. “Sebby…”
Her voice was raw and questioning. Realizing she was only going to make herself sick if he forced the issue, he lowered his chin to his chest with a sigh. It wasn’t worth it. After pulling the wallet from his back pocket, he dropped a twenty on the table and offered her his hand. Her relief was palpable as he helped her stand. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t do this. Don’t get yourself all worked up. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I just want to go home,” she whispered, burying her face into his chest.
“Okay,” he soothed, rubbing slow circles against her back. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Wrapping her fists in the front of his shirt, she peered up at him. “I didn’t mean to ruin our night.”
“You didn’t, baby. It’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry work encroached on our personal time.”
She gave a rueful shake of her head. “I have a bad feeling, Seb. I don’t know what it’s about or why I have it, but it scares the hell out of me.”
Frowning, he resisted the urge to agree. Peeling her hands free, he led her outside. An apprehensive feeling gripped him the moment they stepped through the doors. Another round of lightning flickered in the distance, and despite the empty streets, an uneasy prickle still crawled along his skin. His eyes narrowed as he pulled Taylor closer to his side. For a moment, he considered the wisdom in doing so. Any sudden shots meant for him would go through her as well. The thought struck him like a physical blow and he found himself hurrying to get her into the car.
Taylor sat in silence for most of the way home. Her attention remained riveted on the passenger side window. She blinked against the onset of tears several times, her hands forming a protective cradle over her stomach. His forehead creased as a crushing wave of guilt slammed into him. She didn’t feel safe, and after the bullshit with Laychee, who could blame her? That fucker had destroyed them both in more ways than one.
A dark scowl etched Sebastian’s face. Gripping the steering wheel with enough force to make the stiff leather creak, he resisted the urge to scream and pummel it until his hands bled. Laychee was just the beginning where his problems were concerned. Marx was riding his ass and chomping at the bit, just waiting for a chance to get Taylor out of the way—and God only knew what these other men were after. He’d promised her things would get better, not worse, but that was exactly where he feared things were heading.
He steered the car up to the gate. After scanning his finger, he punched in the code and kept a close eye on the mirrors to make sure nothing slipped in behind them. Within seconds, Rupert had made his way out front and offered a polite nod as Sebastian steered the Benz past. He’d barely pulled the car to a stop within the darkened confines of the garage before Taylor popped the door open and bolted for the house. He stared after her for a moment, then everything hit. Unable to take anymore, he cursed, slamming his fist into the steering wheel and triggering the horn.
Shaking the throb from his battered knuckles, he prowled through the shadows and came to a stop outside of the half bath. The ache in his chest surpassed the one in his hand as he spied Taylor hunched over the toilet, her slender body straining with her efforts not to heave. Shouldering his way inside, he crouched down behind her. She muttered something unintelligible into the bowl as he tucked her loose braid behind her and rubbed the small of her back.
>
“I’m sorry I ran,” she said, sagging against him and turning to search his face. “I really thought I was going to get sick and I didn’t want to get sick in your car.”
“I know,” he murmured, brushing her bangs out of the way. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you kept something down this time.”
Standing, he pulled her with him and smoothed his palms over the outside of her arms. Her gaze flickered to his hand and widened.
“Jesus, Seb, you’re bleeding…”
“Shh. It’s nothing, baby. Let’s get you into bed.”
He helped her wash up and tucked her between the sheets with a promise to join her soon before making his way back downstairs. The darkness in his study seemed pressing despite the glow from his monitor as he uploaded the photos he’d taken the night before. Leaning back in his chair, he tented his fingers beneath his chin and waited for the facial recognition hardware to finish its scan. A rapid gamut of faces and names flashed across the screen before settling on the one he was coming to know and hate.
Sitting up, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing into hooded slits.
Frank Burrel had quite an impressive set of credentials to his name, including brief stints with the FBI and CIA. That much made sense, given the man’s demeanor. What didn’t was the dates. Burrel was inactive. His last term of service dated well over twenty years ago.
Running a forefinger over his lips, Sebastian frowned. SKALS was founded after he left. How would a man with no apparent ties to the government know about them, much less have the balls to confront them? Furthermore, what was his interest in protecting Patrick James? By all accounts, his target didn’t start working for the FBI until well after Burrel’s departure and had only recently fallen off the grid. It just didn’t make sense. Biting the inside of his cheek, he studied the numbers and jotted down Burrel’s stats. Dread coiled in his gut as he typed in Marx’s information. It was a dangerous line to cross, but his instincts didn’t lie. Curiosity outweighed his reluctance and, holding his breath, Sebastian hit send.
