Page 12 of When He Protects

Ah, yes. Something else that Esme enjoyed about her marshal? He was big. He’d ditched the tux that he’d seemed to hate and now wore a black t-shirt and faded jeans. The t-shirt appeared to be in danger of absolutely ripping at the shoulders. The marshal worked out. A lot.

Good for him.

He took out five guys and didn’t even break a sweat. The man showed zero fear when a gun was shoved at him.

And the glare currently on his face? Well, it took his features from sexy to a downright diabolical level of dangerousness.

Be still, my heart.

“We haven’t gotten hold of your father.”

Oh, the other guy had entered the room. Grayson. He was talking. Tyler was busy staring at her, and she was happy to stare back.

“He’s out of the country,” Grayson continued.

Her eyes did a little roll. Right. Like she didn’t know where her father was.

“But we have verified your identity.You’re Esme Laurent, age twenty-seven, daughter of the French Ambassador and his Italian opera singer wife.”

Her mother had died years ago. On the eve of Esme’s sixteenth birthday. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday since that fateful day. Actually, she hadn’t celebrated much at all in her life.

Not information for the Fed and the still glaring Marshal to know.

“We have intelligence that ties you to a string of high-end robberies. Art thefts. Jewel heists. Antique disappearances.”

Tyler was staring so intently at her as his friend rambled.

For fun, she winked at Tyler.

His stare became all the more intense. He was a delight.

“You were caught red-handed tonight,” Gray added in his no-nonsense tone. “There has never been enough evidence to link you concretely to anything before. Hell, most of your crimes occurred in other countries, so the stories about you—they were all smoke and mirrors. The Feds have spent the last six hours trying to piece all the details together. Half of the intel my team is gathering about you seems to be bullshit.”

She shrugged. “What’s the saying? You’re smart if you believe absolutely nothing that you hear and only about half of what your eyes can see? Or something like that.” Her head tilted to the side. Her hair slid over her shoulder. “Don’t actually remember who first said those words. Was it Poe? I do love his stories. So twisted and dark.” Her index finger tapped her chin. “Maybe it was Franklin. I just can’t say for certain.” Her index finger tapped again. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to me later.” Her head turned toward Grayson. “I’ve been here long enough.” She’d been goodlong enough. “And I haven’t been charged with a single crime.”

His jaw—almost as hard as Tyler’s—clenched. A muscle jerked along his clenched jaw as he closed in on her. “My boss wants me to offer you a deal.”

Her eyes widened. “A deal? When I haven’t been charged with any crime? How would that work?”

“You had the jewels on you,” Tyler said.

Ah, yes, there it was again. That deep, rumbly voice that she adored. Just hearing it made her want to shiver in delight. Not that she was the shivering-in-delight type. At least, not usually. But there was just something about this marshal that made her want to break all of her usual rules.

Rule one?Never fall for the good guy.And, yet, well, here she was. Falling. Lusting.

Her focus zeroed in on him. “I bet you have never met a rule that you didn’t like.”

His blue eyes narrowed on her.

“Let me guess, were you a Marine once upon a time? You do have that vibe about you.” Her tongue licked across her lower lip. “Semper Fi?” Her heart drummed hard in her chest. “What does that motto mean again? Would you remind me?”

“Always faithful,” he rumbled.

Oh, that rumble.Her toes might have curled. “That’s what I thought.”

“How did you know he was a Marine?” Grayson asked.

“A lucky guess.”

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