Page 39 of Too Lethal to Love

Kane adjusted the belt around his waist as he looked away from the photos pinned to the bulletin board above Beth’s desk. Thanks to VIPER’s rehab regimen that had made him cry while he gained his strength and learned to walk again, he’d packed on the muscle he’d lost. His dress uniform fit him perfectly once more.

Well, maybe it was a little tight in some places.

He adjusted his hardening cock. After he’d left Beth looking like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to devour him, slap him in the face, or run scared, he’d read the files Ryan sent over.

Edgar had been right. Enrique Chavez was a mama’s boy. According to intel, Maria Chavez held tight control over her only living child. With her health failing as she reached eighty, rumors floated about her handing over the reins to the next Diablo leader. Rumors also indicated that Enrique wasn’t a shoo-in for the job. He had to earn it.

By torturing women and killing people.

Kane would give anything to have hismom back. It wasn’t fair that sick fucks like the Chavez mother and son duo were graced with so much time on this earth together.

After Kane had read about the dysfunctional family dynamic, he’d headed into the hall bathroom to get ready for the party. The cold water helped with the angry, melancholy mood the Chavez report put him in, but it hadn’t done a damn thing to erase the smell of Beth on his hands. Her sweet taste from his lips. The memory of pure desire etched on her face. Even though he’d gotten himself off in the shower with visions of her lying naked in the lavender bed, vicious need still thrummed through his veins.

Tonight, he’d done a piss-poor job of keeping his hands to himself, but holy hell. He couldn’t have resisted Beth in a towel with her hair curled around her face and her skin flushed from the steam if his entire body had been made of steel. Walking away when she’d demanded he take off his jeans had been more painful than learning to walk again. Maybe it was his need to protect, fix, or do whatever he could to erase the fear from her eyes, but it didn’t feel right to share the broken part that made him whole.

Not yet.

Not until she shared what scared her.

She may act like she could take care of herself, and he didn’t doubt it. Hell, she’d succeeded in mustering the courage and strength to wrap her wounds in sequins and live her brilliant, best life despite the trauma she’d endured and the lingering threat. He admired the fuck out of her for that, but she needed his protection whether she liked it or not. If only his mother had possessed half of Beth’s fortitude after his father was killed, if only he’d known how to help her find it, she still might be alive.

He put on his service cap as he eyed his gun on Beth’s dainty white desk. The weapon would stay here tonight, away from curious stares and innocent bystanders. If heneeded firepower, he could shoot a V-Strike without anybody being the wiser. He’d only carried the weapon today because Beth’s gun seemed to give her comfort and he figured another would make her feel doubly secure.

At the top of the stairs, he paused and looked over the railing.

His breath stalled in his lungs.

Beth stood by the Christmas tree. Her silver sequined gown hugged the curves of her full breasts, the indent of her tiny waist, and flared to encase those soft hips he could still feel under his hands. The shimmery material twinkled with the tree lights, casting her in a glow more brilliant than Christmas, New Year’s, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one spectacular package.

As if she sensed his presence, she turned to face him. She froze as their gazes locked. Step by step, his attention on her, he walked down the stairs.

She didn’t speak. Just tracked him with those gorgeous eyes like she was his very own Christmas present. Maybe she was. Maybe Jenna had pulled some strings up in heaven with the man in charge and arranged this moment to remind him to embrace “no regrets.”

Who was he to ignore an angel? If no regrets meant living for tonight, he’d take that advice. Despite the perils in Beth’s future, he burned to make her glow from the inside out. She might not do relationships, might turn to another man to ease her nightmares, but he was all hers until they stopped pretending to confuse a criminal.

But Kane wasn’t confused. He wanted Dr. Beth Parker. It was Christmas, after all. Last year, he’d spent it in the hospital, minus a leg. Tonight, he wouldn’t regret not dancing with the homecoming queen. Not even the entire Diablo cartel could stop him from completing that mission.

Beth’s jaw hit the carpet when she spotted Kane at the top of the stairs. She’d imagined him in his uniform many times, but dear Lord, navy blue looked hot as hell on the man. Even though she’d seen him shirtless, her mouth watered at the expanse of his broad chest, his shoulders, and those biceps encased beneath his jacket.

Dropping her gaze, she followed the line of his torso, tapering in a sinfulVto his belted waist as he sailed toward her. She jerked her attention back to his face, framed by that sexy-as-hell hat, before she drooled and thought about what Scarlett said.

Challenge your theory.

Was Beth’s perception of the past just that? A theory with no proof to back it up? Weren’t the three graves in the cemetery proof enough that she shouldn’t tempt fate and fall in love again? She wanted to believe the reasons behind those deaths were just bad luck. Maybe it was time to double down on her efforts.

The smile on Kane’s face widened as he stopped before her. As he slipped his finger beneath the thin strap of her gown, he flattened his palm to the small of her back. “You look incredible.”

She glared at his big hand on her shoulder but stepped into him anyway. “I’m still mad at you for being a stalker-hole.”

“I took those measures because I sensed you were afraid of something. I was right.”

She snapped her gaze back to his. “But you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.” He slid his fingers down her arm and wrapped them around hers. “I just didn’t tell you.”

“It was dishonest.” And even though she considered herself to be a sensible, independent woman, she found hisactions oddly endearing and honestly couldn’t remember why she shouldn’t press her body—and her lips—against his.

“I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’d do it again.” He raised their hands as if they were dancing and spun her.

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