Page 25 of Torgash

She grabs the phone and studies the screen, trying to process the violation without showing how much it rattles her.

"Santos told me about a man asking questions at the station today."

"Reconnaissance. They're building a profile—your routines, your vulnerabilities, when you're alone and unprotected."

"Unprotected?" Anger flashes in her eyes, but there's something else there. Something that responds to my proximity despite her anger. Heats my blood further. "I'm a trained law enforcement officer with eight years' experience in one of the most dangerous cities in the country."

"They know exactly when you get home, how long you work, when you go to bed. What side of the bed you sleep on, when you're in the shower, Christ, Nova, they probably know what color underwear you put on this morning. They could have a team positioned outside right now, and you'd never know until it's too late."

Her back hits the wall. But she doesn't try to escape. Instead, she lifts her chin and meets my challenge head-on. Fighting me even as her body betrays her response to my dominance.

Hell. The way she looks at me. Like she can't decide if I'm a friend or an enemy.

"You think I can't handle myself?"

"I think you're stubborn enough to get yourself killed proving a point." I brace one hand against the wall beside her head. Close enough to feel her breath against my throat. Close enough to smell that clean scent that drives my temper higher. "And I'm not going to let that happen."

That truth slips out before I can stop it. The admission is too honest, too raw, too revealing about what she's starting to mean to me.

"You're not going to let me?" Her voice drops to something dangerous. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"The orc who will keep you out of danger, whether you like it or not."

Her pupils dilate. I catch the quick flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. She's fighting her body's response to my dominance, an attraction that could complicate everything.

That's already complicated everything. Turned me stupid. Forced me to forget that wanting someone this much is exactly the kind of weakness that gets people killed.

"Get away from me," she says, but there's no real heat in it.

"No."

She stares up at me, trapped between my body and the wall, breathing fast enough to make her chest rise and brush against mine.

And I want to kiss her. Want to crowd her closer, pin her wrists above her head, show her exactly how much danger she's in from me. Want to make her understand that caring abouther has turned me into something possessive and hungry and completely inappropriate for what she represents.

For what she deserves.

Instead, I force myself to focus on why I'm here. Try to remember that this is about keeping her alive, not claiming her.

"Your office isn't secure," I continue, voice dropping to something rougher. "Your apartment isn't secure. You need somewhere you can work without being monitored, with proper security and backup."

"And you've decided where that is?"

"The clubhouse has a war room. Secure communications, encrypted files, countermeasures."

"You want me to work out of an MC clubhouse?"

"I want you to stay safe long enough to finish what you started with Royce." I lean closer, until my mouth is almost against her ear. Let myself have this much. This one moment of proximity before she inevitably pushes me away. "And I want you where I can protect you."

She turns her head sharply, bringing our faces inches apart. "I don't need your protection."

"You're getting it anyway."

"Really?" Her voice sharpens, some of that fire returning. "Because I seem to remember a certain orc at Murphy's who didn't need my help either. Had everything under control. But I stepped in anyway."

The reminder hits like a blade between the ribs. She's right—I had those bastards handled, but she'd inserted herself into the situation anyway. Put herself at risk for someone she didn't even know.

For me.

---