Page 11 of When He Protects

“How on earth did that get there?” Esme wondered.

He unstrapped the bag. Opened it. Diamonds spilled into his palm.

“Holy shit.” From Gray.

Still kneeling in front of Esme, Tyler glanced up at her. “You warned me.”

“Did I?”

He tucked the diamonds back into the bag. Shoved the diamonds and the bag at Gray. “Cuffs,” Tyler snapped.

She frowned at him. “Are you about to get kinky? Now? With all of these people staring at us?”

“I’m about to put you under arrest, baby.”

“Baby?” A pleased curl of her lips. “What a fascinating first date.”

Cuffs were slapped into his hand. He hooked one around her right wrist. Being extra careful because…because hell if he knew why. He turned her around. With her back to him, he pulled her other wrist toward him and snapped the second cuff in place. “Esme…” Hell, he still didn’t know her last name. “You’re under arrest.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him. All smoldering eyes. All plump, kissable lips. And she smiled. “No, I’m not.”

Uh, yes, yes, she was. Thus, the handcuffs. And the next item of business? He was going to read Esme her rights. Going to escort her to a jail cell. Going to lock her sexy self away.

Why did that last thought make his chest ache?

“My handsome U.S. Marshal. Tell me, have you ever heard of these two magic words before?” Esme’s husky voice poured over him.

Magic words? What in the hell was she talking about? There were no magic words in his world. There was no magic at all in his life. There was crime and evil and a job to do.

With her hands still cuffed behind her back, Esme turned to face him fully. “Two ever-so-magic words.” A delicate pause. “Diplomatic. Immunity.” She hummed. Might have bounced. “I have it. My father is the French Ambassador. I’m Esme Laurent, and you…” She rose onto her toes and brought her mouth even closer to him.

He bent nearer to her.

“You…my dear, handsome U.S. Marshal…you are shit out of luck.”

Then she kissed him again.

Chapter Three

Sometimes,it paid to be bad.

Esme Laurent sat on top of the interrogation room table. Her legs swung out in front of her as she waited for the authorities to trickle inside. Hopefully, they’d come with major apologies.

Her gaze darted to the clock on the wall. Nearly six a.m. She’d been in that incredibly boring FBI office forhours.She’d cooperated. Somewhat. And she’d been waiting patiently. Again,somewhat.

She’d offered her terms to the Fed who’d been milling around the most. Grayson Stone. He seemed to be the man in charge of the investigation that was her life. Though, really, why waste time with her? There were much worse criminals out there and?—

The door opened.

Her U.S. Marshal appeared. Esme didn’t even try to hide the giant smile that burst across her face. How could she? She was far too happy to see him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.” Her legs swung out again.

He looked down at her feet.

Her high heels had long since fallen off, and her bare toes wiggled at him.

A frown pulled at his features. Such sexy, rugged features. Not necessarily handsome, though she had called him that before. The man had an incredible jaw. Hard and square and currently covered with a bit of stubble that she itched to feel against her palm. His eyes were a steely blue that—when they fixed on you and they were certainly fixed on Esme right then—those eyes of his seemed to see right into her. Dark hair. Cut a little too short. Sharp cheekbones. Strong nose. High forehead and?—

He marched toward her. Towered over her.

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