Page 14 of Guardian's Touch

I can't let that happen again. I couldn't stand it. To lose her...

“But I just want to be with you. That's all I'm trying to say. I've wanted to tell you for so long, and I know it isn't right, and I know it's not the way you want me to feel. But I don't want to leave you. Isn't there a way I could stay?”

She has no idea what she's doing to me. What a struggle it is to stay strong when she’s so damn tempting. Not only physically—though that's bad enough, having her this close, smelling her skin and her hair. She's almost enough to make me forget why I'm trying to be strong in the first place.

But I have to be. One of us has to be. “I know what I'm doing,” I whisper, stroking her cheek while gazing into her eyes. So clear, as blue as an autumn sky. Heartbreakingly young, she is, and trusting and so stubborn.

I might love her.

Her chin quivers while her eyes dart over my face like she’s looking for the truth. “Even if it's going to make me miserable? You would rather make me miserable and send me away from you?”

Did I say she was innocent? Because nothing about the way she buries her face in my neck and lets her lips trail over my skin is innocent. “I could make you happy. That's all I want. You're all I want, Dane. Don't send me away. I don't want to live without you.”

“You're not being fair.” And neither is my cock, stirring to life thanks to the way she kisses me and rubs against me. She knows just what she's doing, and she's doing a damn good job of it. It's getting harder and harder to remember why I wanted to send her to school.

And I'm about to tell her that when there's a thump overhead.

She goes still while I immediately look up at the ceiling. On Sunday morning, I typically loosen things up a little and let most of my guys sleep in. We're down to a skeleton crew, but at least one guy should still be patrolling the second floor.

“What is it?” she whispers.

“I'm not sure, but I want you to stay here. Do you hear me? I'm going to check, but you have to stay put.” She sputters, but I ignore it, lifting her from my lap and placing her in another chair before going to the cabinet under the sink.

“Was that always there?” she gasps, staring open-mouthed at the Glock I pulled from inside a bucket.

“No, Santa Claus left it,” I mutter, checking to be sure it's loaded. “Now, remember. Stay here. For once, do as I say.”

Where the fuck is everybody? The front door should have a guard, but the post is empty. A feeling of dread settles over me, cold nausea I fight back only when I think of the girl waiting in the kitchen. She needs me to keep my shit together. Come to think of it, maybe I should have sent her outside.

I take the stairs two at a time, silent thanks to my bare feet. My thumping heart is the only thing I hear once I reach the landing.

At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Still, with my guard up, I go from room to room in a quick search. Is this O’Grady? Would he pull something this over the top? Invading a man’s home is a shit ton more serious than shooting up a restaurant.

When I come to Camilla’s bedroom, I realize the problem: Georgie’s playing with a sock. He flops around on the floor, swinging his head violently from side to side. When the sock flies from his jaws, he pounces on it again. I lower the Glock, rolling my eyes. Way to jump to the worst possible conclusion.

“For a small dog, you are very fucking loud.” I can't help but laugh with relief as I scoop him off the floor. “But I guess you do need to go outside.” He only licks my face and wags his tail.

The fact is, I can't imagine life here without her, and I'm sure the dog will be devastated once she's gone. Is this who I've become? The kind of guy who gives a shit what a dog thinks? Or am I only making excuses to keep her here?

“Never fear,” I call out on my way to the kitchen. “Your very fierce killer dog showed a sock who's boss.”

The kitchen is empty, her chair pushed back from the table. I should’ve known she wouldn’t listen. “Dammit, Camilla!” I growl on my way to the back door to let the dog out.

The door is already open.

Once again, nausea washes over me.

“Camilla?” I step outside, sweeping the area with my gaze. She's nowhere to be found.

But the rear gate hangs open, and all at once, I know.

I set the dog down, and he whimpers, following me instead of going outside. My phone is on the counter, and I grab it with a trembling hand. “Frank?” I bark when he answers. “We've had a breach. They took Camilla.”

7

CAMILLA

It’s dark.

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