Page 1 of Gambit's Property

CHAPTER 1

FRANCI

My attention drifts as the professor prattles on about marine conservation. For some reason, I’m not as engaged in the lecture as usual. I feel restless. Looking out the window toward the quad, I notice a tall, muscular man leaning against a tree. He stands out from the campus crowd around him. A shiver runs up my spine as his gaze fixes on me. Drawn to his stare, I can’t look away. His dark hair is cut short in a military style—trimmed close on the sides but a bit longer on top. He has a mustache and neatly groomed scruff on his jaw. What strikes me most about him is the “don’t talk to me vibe” he’s giving off.

Breaking free of the stranger’s gaze, I turn shyly back to the professor, who is assigning a paper due next week. I think I’ll head home early this weekend instead of staying on campus another day. I can study in the calming sanctuary of my room at home. Unlike many students, I don’t party or participate in any of the Greek societies. None of them felt right for me. I’ve always been comfortable doing my own thing.

My adopted mother, Ridley, took me in when I was twelve after I lost my family. She’s a workaholic and doesn’t go out much. Since she adopted me, I’ve attended boarding schools.Ley didn’t send me away because she didn’t care for me. Instead, it was for my protection.

On that thought, I glance outside again. I don’t see my bodyguard at his usual post, but the stranger remains in the same spot. I study him once more. He’s dressed in black jeans, a black Henley shirt, and a leather jacket with a vest over it, paired with dark combat boots. For some reason, the man doesn’t cause fear to race across my skin like it normally would. Instead, something about him draws me in.

Before Ley, I was raised by devout Catholic parents. They homeschooled me on our small farm near the Albania-Kosovo border. That was until everything changed one evening. I shake my head as my breathing increases. I can’t revisit those memories. They have been close to the surface lately, and I know it’s because of that phone call I received. He knows where I am. I’m furious with myself for letting it happen. Ley constantly reminds me to make sure I’m not filmed, but I messed up last semester. I didn’t realize I was captured on camera by a crew during a shark exhibition.

Now they know where I am. I’m not telling Ley yet because I enjoy living here. I like the college I attend and its proximity to home. I like the area, and I know Ley is up to something. I suspect she’s seeing someone, but she won’t tell me. She’s always kept so many secrets from me, even though I’m an adult now. She says it’s for my own safety, but honestly, I’m tired of it. It’s time we lived our lives and stopped being scared of the past. This isn’t what my mother would have wanted, and I know it’s not what Ley envisioned for her life before this all began.

When she moved us here, I didn’t care that I was leaving a university I’d already completed one year at because I hated it. I knew relocating meant I would be able to see Ley more often than when we lived in Chicago. She could only visit me after taking extensive security measures to ensure our safety, and Ididn’t attend college or a school in town. She had to drive for hours to reach me. Several years ago, she was attacked while trying to come see me, and since then, she’s become even more protective.

I love her for everything she’s done to protect me, but sometimes I just want her to be my mom. I long for a hug from her, but since the attack, she hasn’t embraced me much. Not long ago, I accidentally walked in on her while she was changing and saw the scars that mark her body from the attack. I look down at my own arms—perfect ivory coloring with a slight olive undertone, unblemished and free of scars. Sometimes I wish I had external scars so others would know what I’ve survived, but then I’m glad I don’t. My scars are etched into my memories and my heart.

“That will be all for the day. See you next week,” the professor announces, and students gather their things.

I look down at my tablet and shake my head. Damn it, I don’t have many notes. Standing up, I pack everything into my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. My eyes drift back to the window, and I see the man standing up straight now, which makes me think he’s still watching me and the class.

That’s when the thought hits me. What if he was sent here by my phone caller? I lower my head, letting my long brown hair cover my face. Slipping on my sunglasses, I step out of the room and blend in with the other students as I head for the exit. I need to get away from the man and locate my protection detail. He’s so big, they probably won’t intimidate him, but at least I’ll feel better knowing they’re around. I’m trained to defend myself if necessary. Ley made sure of that. With that in mind, I slip my hand into the side pocket of my backpack and pull out a small kubotan punch. I grip it firmly in my fist, with the point aimed outward.

My head swivels as I look for one of my bodyguards, but again I don’t see them. I leave my cell phone in my pocket, knowing it will only distract me. My blood starts to pump harder, and I feel adrenaline surging through me, ready to fight or flee. When I step outside the building and still don’t see my security detail, I realize I need to protect myself. Normally, Ley would notify me of any changes. I know she’s been stressed and worried about something, so I won’t call her. I’ll just do what I need to do and use the skills she taught me.

I dart to the side, heading away from the quad. The back of my neck tingles, as if I can feel him behind me. My muscles tighten, ready to fight. Suddenly, I’m grabbed by my backpack. Since I only had it slung over one shoulder, I swing around, letting it slip off as I turn to face him. I aim my kubotan at his neck, prepared to strike if he's here to kill me.

I swing, but he’s ready. A leather-clad arm blocks the kubotan from reaching its mark, though it still presses into his forearm without puncturing his skin. He slides his arm to the side, disarming me and taking my hand with it. I spin around and kick my leg out, but that’s blocked too. I’ve never felt so helpless as he lifts me up and wraps his large arms around me.

“Stop, little girl. Rogue sent me.” His voice is deep and husky, with a slight accent.

“I don’t know a Rogue.” My thick Albanian accent bleeds through, betraying my attempts to conceal it over the years.

“Don’t make me take you over my knees. I’m here to protect you. Ridley is what she goes by now.”

I stop instantly, overwhelmed by a surge of emotion that nearly makes me collapse, but his arms hold me tighter to his body.

“Fuck,” he says, long and gruff. His lips land on mine, and now my body is fighting for something else.

More.

His tongue brushes against the seam of my lips, and I open for him. My hands go into his hair, and I turn my head, allowing his tongue to explore deeper. I’ve never been kissed like this before. Yes, I’m a virgin, but I had a guy kiss me at prom in high school. That kiss was awkward and sloppy. This is different—full of passion and commanding. He takes from me, and I freely give it to him.

His large hands lift me up, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in tighter to my body. I feel a throbbing at my core, my clit aches, my nipples are erect, and I want him. I don’t even know his name or anything about him, but he has me completely losing control.

Gambit

Her soft tongue glides against mine, and her hips move with an intense rhythm. Suddenly, someone yells nearby, and it’s like a bucket of cold water has been splashed over my head. I pull back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes remain closed, and she’s panting, a flush creeping across her neck and down the collar of her nerdy T-shirt.

When I first saw her in the class, I was trying to figure out who she was to Rogue, and why she’d ask me to put a three-man team on this little girl. She is barely five feet tall, maybe a couple of inches more. Her beautiful oval face and wide-set eyes drew me in the moment she looked at me through the window.

It wasn’t until I saw her step out of the building that I was hard as fuck and pissed. She’s in cut-off shorts over black tights, a long men’s flannel shirt, and her T-shirt tied up, exposinga hint of her flawless skin. She’s stunning, undeniably young, but I don’t care. I want her. I need her. Something about this girl soothes the anger always lurking at the edges of my soul. My black soul that has seen murder and committed it for our country.

I lean forward, unable to stop myself, and kiss along her long neck to just below her ear. I suck the skin gently, leaving a mark so other men know she’s taken.

“What’s your name?” she asks with a sigh.

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