Page 22 of When He Protects

“Look, I get that you’re probably on the task force, but what we’ve discovered about the woman behind you? That puts herwayabove your pay grade.” A trickle of sweat slid down Patrick’s cheek. “Get out of the way and let me have the woman.”

“No, no.” From Esme. “Do not let him have me.”

He’ll have you over my dead body.

“Outof the way,” Patrick snapped. “That’s an order.”

Tyler could feel Esme twisting the back of his t-shirt with her grip. “Make me.”

Patrick’s eyes bulged. “What?”

Tyler took an aggressive step toward him. Then another. “I said, make me get out of your way.”

Esme had released Tyler’s shirt.

Patrick’s mouth opened and closed. And then those twitchy fingers of his did exactly what Tyler had expected. They went for the gun.

FBI agent, my ass.

Tyler leapt for him. Even as Patrick hauled out the weapon, Tyler grabbed his hand. He shoved Patrick back, and he rammed Patrick’s hand against the side of the open door. Once. Twice. The gun clattered to the floor on the third hit. It also fired off a shotbeforeit dropped.

Esme screamed.

Tyler’s blood iced. He knew the bullet had missed her. It had blasted out and slammed into the wall. But what if ithadhit her? What if Tyler hadn’t come back into interrogation to go over his rules? What if she’d been in there alone when this jerk arrived?

Dammit, a real Fedshouldhave been guarding the doorto interrogation. Patrick—or whoever the hell he was—should not have gotten inside to Esme.

Tyler drew back his fist, and he plowed it hard into the face of the bastard who’d thought he would just waltz in andtakeEsme. “Over my dead body,” Tyler rasped.

Pounding footsteps rushed toward him. Tyler hit the pretend agent a second time. The prick slumped bonelessly and slid down to the floor. Blood trickled from his nose and busted lip. His glasses sat askew on his face.

“What in the hell is happening here?”Gray bellowed.

Tyler looked over at him. Gray’s gun was out and currently aimed at the man sprawled on the floor. “He said you gave him orders to transport Esme.” Tyler’s head whipped around so that he could find Esme.

She’d pressed her back to the mirror. Her skin had gone too pale, and her eyes were way too wide. He didn’t like the look of fear on her face. Not at all.

“You’re the only one with orders to transport her.” Gray crouched next to the beaten man even as the jerk’s eyes blearily blinked open. “Who are you?” Gray demanded.

“F-FBI—” the man began.

“Fuck that shit,” Tyler snarled. “He pulled his gun on me. He came to take her. He knewyourname, Gray. This whole place is compromised.” He marched for Esme. Held out his hand.

She stared at his fingers. Then Esme put her hand over his palm.

“I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

“He’snotFBI.” Gray sounded adamant.

“No shit,” Tyler returned. His stare bored into Esme’s. “You’re coming with me.”

A nod. “I am so glad I married you,” she whispered.

His fingers closed around hers. Carefully, though, sohe didn’t hurt her. He spun back for the door. Saw that a swarm of agents were behind Gray. And the man on the floor? He’d already been cuffed. Gray had the guy’s badge in his hand and a look of disgust on his face.

“Real ballsy to just waltz into a Fed’s office,” Gray announced. Not an admiring tone. A pissed one. “You seriously thought you’d get away with that shit?”

“I-I’m so sorry, Agent Stone,” a fresh-faced agent with blood-red cheeks stammered. “He said you wanted me to come into the conference room for a meeting, so I left my post. H-he said he was supposed to take over guard duty here. I saw his badge and he looked legit, and I?—”

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