The Protected

TWO

IT should be a damn crime to look that good.

Vaughnne almost swallowed her tongue when she caught her first good look at her target. Well, one of them.

Wow.

Her libido, dormant for the past couple of years, suddenly rumbled to life, and as she stared at the man coming across the street, she couldn’t help but think . . . Come to mama, pretty boy . . . pretty, pretty, pretty boy . . .

According to the information Jones had given her, he was going by the name Gus Hernandez.

It wasn’t his real name, though. She’d just about bet on that—Gus Hernandez wasn’t too common, but there was Augusto and Gustavo . . . pair those names with Hernandez and you might as well be looking for John Smith.

Whoever he was, though . . . he was a fine, fine piece of work.

Leaning back on the porch, she braced her hands on the concrete behind her and pretended to be absorbed in the study of her flip-flops. One thing about this job . . . she could work in flip-flops and shorts. Much better than the skirts and heels, or slacks and heels, she generally wore when she was in D.C. Not that she spent a lot of time in the office, but she wasn’t exactly running at full speed just yet and she knew it.

Office work would be her mainstay for the next few weeks if she wasn’t doing the babysitting job. Until she could focus her gift for longer than five minutes without a splitting headache, she was useless in the field.

This, though, this was doable. She didn’t need to actively use her telepathy to use her instincts and that was a lot easier on the gray matter. And even though she hated Orlando, the uniform here was a lot better.

So she’d just enjoy the uniform, and enjoy the view . . . and pretend she was somewhere else.

The view was fine. Damn fine. Excellent shoulders. Long, loose-hipped gait. Behind her shades, she studied him, black hair tucked under a battered hat, a pair of cheap sunglasses that shielded his gaze from her. He wore a threadbare T-shirt and jeans so worn, they were practically white at the seams. Damn, he wore those jeans well, too.

Because the view was making her throat go dry, she reached for the bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade at her side and took a long drag off it as she shifted her attention to the other things. Like the backpack he was still carrying. Like the boy.

Her other target.

Two males and both of them were too damned pretty. Family, they had to be, although Jones’s information on them was sketchy.

The boy is gifted. I think the man is protecting him. They are in trouble. Keep an eye on them.

Yeah, not a lot to go on.

The boy was already every bit as pretty as the guy walking next to him, although he couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. He’d break hearts when he was grown, she suspected. His name was Alex, and he had the angriest, saddest eyes she’d seen on a kid in a long, long while. They were a pale, misty sort of gray—set against his dusky skin, those eyes packed even more of a punch.

Yeah. He was going to break hearts, she thought. And she had a feeling he’d be breaking hers before this job was out. Babysit. What in the hell was going on here?

That gaze of his was a punch right to her heart. One that might shatter it, because while she couldn’t read emotions worth shit, she knew what fear looked like. The boy was ripe with it. He had so much fear inside, it hurt to look at him. So much cynicism, she figured she probably would have looked idealistic.

And even without lowering her shields, she felt the wide-open power of his mind.

Damn.

That kid was practically a lighthouse on the shore in the middle of a raging storm.

All it would take was the wrong person looking for him . . .

Gifted. Gifted, my ass, she thought sourly. A gift like that would be more like a curse for a good, long while. He didn’t need a babysitter. What he needed was a bodyguard and a teacher. She might be able to handle the bodyguard job as long as there was nothing major going on, but she wasn’t equipped to teach a kid like that.

Mr. Gus Hernandez pushed his battered cap back and gave her a sleepy smile. “Hi there,” he said.

Okay. If the boy’s eyes ripped at her, the man’s eyes were going to put her on her knees, but for all the wrong reasons. Wow. If she’d thought the kid’s eyes packed a punch . . . again, wow.

This guy’s gaze was enough to put her out for the count. The color of the mists that hovered over the river in the morning, that was what his eyes made her think of, a surreal shade of gray and so unbelievably beautiful, shockingly pale against the warmth of his olive-colored skin. But it wasn’t just the unnatural beauty of those eyes . . . the kid had that.

The man, though, he had a look in his eyes that made her throat go dry.

Sleepy and sexy, like he’d just tumbled out of bed but he’d be more than happy to tumble right back in. Since he was looking at her, the idea was probably to think that he was going to tumble into bed with her, but she knew better.

That look was practiced. Way too practiced and she knew it. Still, it was a good look, and she might as well enjoy it. His smile, too. She was a little disturbed to realize that smile of his was making her feel all warm and tingly down in parts that were not supposed to be an issue, considering she was on a job.

He knew what effect he had, too. She could tell. It wasn’t arrogance or anything, but he knew. Hmmm. A player? That was a harder puzzle, but she’d figured it out.

He was playing at something, but what was it? That was the question, indeed.

Taking another sip from her bottle, she tipped it at him. “Hey, back.”

The boy shot her a look from under his lashes and lowered his head. As he shoved his hands into his pockets, she felt it. A ripple of his gift, rolling across her.

She didn’t react.

He was young, and unless he’d encountered a lot of psychics, it was unlikely he’d recognize one if she wasn’t using her ability. Which she didn’t plan to do. Keeping her own thoughts tucked back behind a blank shield, she projected an air of boredom, exhaustion, and because he probably was used to it, she thought a few rather female thoughts about the overall hotness of the long, sexy piece of work standing across from her.

The kid blushed and darted a look at the long, sexy piece of work before he mumbled, “. . . help you move stuff.”

Vaughnne reached up and rubbed her ear. “I’m sorry?”

“I think my kid is saying we wanted to see if you needed help.”

Those tingling parts started tingling again and she leaned forward, arms crossed over her chest, at the smile he shot her way. Then he glanced over at the boy. “Right, Alex?”

The kid lifted his head, and for a long, long moment, all he did was stare at her.

Seconds ticked away, and Vaughnne would have sworn she heard her heart beating, could have sworn she felt their hearts beating as the boy took her measure. And somehow, she suspected if that kid didn’t like what he saw, there were going to be problems.

She was prepared for that.

Very prepared, although not quite in the way anybody would think.

But finally, the boy gave her a nervous smile and ducked his head again, and that odd, tight tension faded away. “Yeah. You . . .” He licked his lips and looked over at the man who claimed to be his father before darting her a look. “You got lots of stuff and no help. We don’t mind.”

Don’t mind, huh?

Yeah. She was sure they didn’t. They didn’t mind so much, and if that kid had so much as whispered one bad word about her, she had a feeling she would have had to unload on the two of them just to keep the sexy piece of work from doing . . . whatever he had planned.

Uncurling from the bench, she let her bottle swing from her left hand as she sauntered off. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind a hand, I reckon.” She laid it on thick with the drawl and kept her smile wide and friendly. “My name’s Vaughnne.”

They’d decided it would be best to keep things close to the truth with this one, and as the boy flicked her another glance, she felt that odd ripple again. Yeah. Good call. He smiled again and then glanced over at the man with him. “Alex,” the boy said.

It was weird, the vibe between them, but she’d already figured it out. The kid’s gift . . . the gift inside him, it was so strong, he almost glowed with it. Considering there was some sort of danger chasing them, it seemed the man had made the hard, but wise choice to use the kid’s instincts.

And there was something after them. Only reason why that kid would be so afraid, she figured. Not an easy choice to make. But death, danger . . . plenty of other things were far less pleasant and a lot less easy.

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” she said, still keeping her thoughts tucked behind that surface shield of nice and normal. He held out his hand, and once more, that power . . . as their skin touched, she shielded down as tight as she could.

His hand fell away and he looked over at the man, another smile.

Signals. She didn’t know what they were communicating with those signals, but they were doing it.

“Gus.” The man nodded and gave her another one of those lazy smiles as he adjusted his cap. “So, how much more have you got to move in, Vaughnne?”

She heaved out a sigh. “Too damn much.”

HE’D known beautiful women.

He’d known women so beautiful, they made the eye all but hurt to look at them.

The woman standing in front of him wasn’t one of them.

But there was . . . something about her, and Gus realized he couldn’t look away from her.

A fine sheen of perspiration gleamed along the warm brown of her skin, and unlike a lot of the women he’d known, it didn’t seem to faze her. Her nose was sprinkled with a few freckles, shades darker than that warm brown, and her eyes, liquid gold, held his with a frank, unblinking stare as she nodded toward the moving van.

“Vaughnne,” he murmured absently, turning the name over as he studied her.

Alex had read her. They had a system; it worked. He hated it, hated having to rely on the kid like that, but Gus wasn’t going to risk the boy’s safety when he had a tool that was just undeniable, either.

Alex didn’t offer his name to anybody that set his internal warning off, and he’d not only offered her his name, he’d let her touch him. Alex let very few people touch him.

So she had to be safe enough. Maybe that was why he felt his heartbeat kick up a few notches. It had been . . .

Please. You must do this for me.

As the voice roused from the depths of his memory, he shoved everything else to the back of his mind. It didn’t matter if she was safe. Alex wasn’t.

A slim black brow arched and she cocked her head. A bright red bandanna was wrapped around her head, and underneath, thick, crazy black curls fell in long spirals almost halfway down her back. “If we’re going to do this, Gus,” she said lazily, lifting a bottle to her lips, “let’s do it. I dunno about you, but I’m worn out.”

She took a drink from the bottle, and he had the damnedest desire to pull the bottle away, and take a drink . . . from her. It was a disgusting thing she was drinking, but he suspected he wouldn’t mind a bit, tasting it on her lips, tasting her. Before the temptation settled too deep in his mind, he turned around and studied the various boxes littering the little front yard. “If you want, you can tell Alex where you want the boxes. You and I can work on the bigger stuff.”

He glanced back at her just in time to see her finishing off the lemonade, and he watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the soft brown of her neck. Desire, vicious and painful, twisted inside him. He needed to get laid.

Vaughnne lowered the bottle and then tossed it into a little bin off to the side of the yard. It was a good twenty feet away and it landed squarely inside. “Nice shot.”

She smiled blandly. “Thanks. Come on,” she said as she turned around. She paused halfway up the walk to bend over and hoist up a box. The faded denim shorts she wore stretched tight over her butt and Gus had to drag his eyes away. “I’ll show you all around. The boxes are all marked, so it won’t be hard to figure out what goes where.”

Gus dragged a hand down his face and then shifted the pack he carried so he had one strap over each shoulder. The logical thing to do was put it down, he knew. But he’d do that, maybe, after he’d gotten the lay of the land.

After he’d adjusted his shirt, making sure the weapon at his back was covered, he grabbed a couple of the boxes that were stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Alex glanced at him and he saw, again, there was none of that blind fear, none of the nerves. Everything was cool.

He should be able to relax now, right?

Technically, they could even leave because, no matter what he’d said, he hadn’t come over to help her move her stuff in. They could leave and he didn’t care if it made him look like an ass. He’d come to make sure she was safe. But leaving was the very last thing he wanted to do.

THEY muscled the bed frame into place, and Vaughnne all but groaned as the headache throbbing behind her eyes grew to nauseating proportions. She’d meant to take her time, get half the stuff done today and then work on the rest of it tomorrow, but when the gift horse—or gift stud—had arrived, what was she going to do, say no?

Especially as it would have been interesting trying to figure out how to move it all in on her own.

She would have figured something out, maybe calmly worked out a meeting and offered to pay them some money if they helped her unload. Either that, or just found somebody else living nearby. Something would have turned up.

Now she felt like her head was going to explode.

“You know how to put this together?”

The warm, dark velvet of his voice rolled over her skin, and she lifted her lashes to stare at him as she sagged back against the wall. He was enough to make her mouth go dry, especially with the way his shirt had gone a little damp with sweat now, making it cling to muscles that were way too defined for just the typical average Joe.

He’d dropped the backpack earlier, tucking it behind the front door, and although he was casual about it, she’d noticed that there hadn’t been a single time when they’d walked through the room and he hadn’t checked on that bag.

“Well?”

She blinked and then glanced over at the bed frame. Yeah. He’d asked her a question, hadn’t he? Sighing, she studied it for a minute and then glanced over at the mattress propped against the opposite wall.

If she had her way, she’d just knock it down, crawl onto the bed, curl into a ball, and pass out. But that wasn’t an option.

“Staring at it isn’t going to do the job.” He gestured at it. “You know how to put it together?”

There was something about the way he talked, she decided. Something besides the fact that his voice was sexy as hell. Low and smooth as silk, rich as melted chocolate and just as sinful. Down, girl, she told herself absently as she pushed her sore body away from the wall and studied the bed frame. Yeah, yeah, staring at it wasn’t going to help, but she was hoping she’d remember how it had been put together.

It had been bought at a thrift store and it was pretty. Vaughnne had a weakness for pretty things and she had no problem admitting it. But the pale green patina of the metal looked like a mind-bending puzzle just then. Propping her hands on her hips, she tried to remember the way everything had gone together and then she just sighed. “I have absolutely no fu . . .” Then she clamped her mouth shut and shot a look toward the hall. The kid. She wasn’t used to being around kids. “Ah . . . sorry. I have absolutely no idea.”

Gus nodded. “I’ll go home and grab my tools. But that’s about all we can do.”

She should tell him it wasn’t necessary. She knew that. But he’d offered. She needed to do what was necessary to get them to like her, trust her . . . and if he decided to offer a hand here and there? Why not accept it?

Wiping her forearm over her brow, she gave him a smile. Even though the headache pounding inside her head was about ready to kill her, she didn’t let it show. “I appreciate it. Hey, I don’t know if y’all ate anything, but I am starving so I’m going to order a pizza.”

“We had dinner, thanks.”

She arched a brow. “You sure? I’ve never seen a teenaged boy say no to pizza.”

“ANOTHER box of books?” Alex lugged it over and dumped it on the floor next to the bookshelves she’d picked up. The bookshelves had also come from a thrift store. But the books were hers. Since she didn’t know just how long she’d have to be babysitting, Vaughnne planned to keep herself entertained.

And she’d only brought four boxes.

Grinning at him, she sauntered over and peered inside the box. “Yeah. And that’s the last of them, too.”

He wrinkled his nose and said, “Is it a bunch more of those stupid girly books?”

“I’ll have you know those girly books are awesome,” she said loftily. “You’d be amazed at what a guy can learn from reading girly books.”

“Girly books?”

That voice. It was too damned appealing. Shooting Gus a look from over her shoulder, she shrugged. “That’s what he calls romance.”

“Girly books.” Gus smirked. “Well, I would likely call them girly books as well. A man won’t learn much from them.”

“Shows what you know, pal.” She sank to the floor and started pulling the books from the box. Once she had some books on the shelves, she’d feel a little more at ease, she thought. Whether she was in Orlando or not. Having something of hers around would just make her feel better. “For one, a smart guy learns it’s not a wise move to go and knock what a lady enjoys reading. If it makes her happy and it’s not hurting anything? What’s the issue?”

“Books like those are unrealistic,” Gus said. He shrugged and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pristine white handkerchief that looked out of place with his battered clothes, the faded jeans.

He had elegant hands, she thought. Very elegant hands.

And she was getting distracted. “Unrealistic,” she drawled. Snorting, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. “Riiiggggghhhht . . . like Star Wars isn’t. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Flies. Bunnicula. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

“None of those books promise that love will conquer over all.”

Vaughnne snorted. “Neither does romance make those promises. They are just books. Reading them doesn’t mean I’m looking for a space pirate to solve all my problems. I can handle my problems just fine on my own.”

“Space pirates?” Alex asked, his eyes rounding.

“Yeah . . .” She slid him a sly smile. “And that one got caught by a bounty hunter. Who was a chick.”

Gus snorted. Then he shoved off the wall and gestured down the hall. “Milady, your bower awaits. But you’ll need to help me get the mattress onto the bed frame.”

HE probably should have tried to do it himself. He could have, but he wanted to make sure the bed was where she wanted it before he bothered. But now, in addition to having images of tasting her mouth, he wanted to see her stretched out on the bed, all that long, wild hair spread out around her as he stripped her clothes away.

He was too intimately acquainted with that body after three hours of helping her drag and move and push furniture, boxes, and every other damn thing she’d had crammed into that truck. Too familiar with those long, lean muscles and the way she moved with more confidence and control than any woman should have a right to.

He had more than a passing acquaintance with females. He’d had lovers whose bodies were honed to an athletic tightness, and others who were so soft and lushly female. Lovers whose bodies had been sculpted by the finest plastic surgeons around, and he appreciated every damned last one.

But Vaughnne . . . his hands itched to strip her naked already and he had no idea just why. It had been years since he’d had time to indulge in such a thing, but he hadn’t had any trouble ignoring it until today. Until her.

She was a powerhouse of curves and sleek muscles, the kind of muscles that came from a dedication to fitness, yet none of it had affected the sheer female beauty of her. Her hips and ass were still lush and round, her breasts soft and full under the tank top she wore. Every once in a while, her bra strap had peeked out from under the edge of the shirt, simple and black, and it was driving him out of his mind.

“I think this will do.”

As she stroked a hand down the mattress, he tracked the motion of her hand for a moment before he schooled his features into blankness and lifted his gaze to study her face. Her features had to be the most unique he’d ever seen. She was pretty, yes. Not beautiful, but pretty.

And unique, with those dark freckles dancing across her nose, a top-heavy mouth, and her smooth, warm brown skin.

“Is the bed where you want it?” he asked. He thought it would do better under the window. Where the morning light would come in and dance across that perfect body of hers.

Vaughnne heaved out a sigh and lifted her arms. She dragged the bandanna off her hair with one hand and used the other to gather her hair into a tail. “At this point, you could have glued the stupid thing to the ceiling and I wouldn’t care. I just want it done. I’ll take a better look around tomorrow, and if it’s not where I want it, I can get it moved on my own.”

She fished around in her pocket and pulled out a little black band, snapping it around her hair before shooting a look at her watch. “Now if that damn pizza would get here—”

The doorbell rang.

Alex appeared in the doorway, and although he knew Vaughnne wouldn’t see it, the boy’s face was taut, tense with nerves.

With that easy smile on her face, Vaughnne said, “It’s about damn time. You two sure you don’t want some? There are plates and stuff in the kitchen.”

As Alex crossed to stand by him, Gus mentally ran through the layout of the house. The kitchen was just up the hall. They could stay out of sight of the front door. Although the backpack was by the front door. Careless . . . he’d gotten careless. A look at Alex’s face had him thinking it through again. Alex was nervous . . . nervous, not scared.

This would work. They’d stay out of sight in the kitchen, and if he had to go through bodies to get the bag, then he’d do it. He had the Sig Sauer tucked into place at his back, regardless.

“I don’t know . . . you hungry, Alex?”

VAUGHNNE wondered if that pizza delivery kid would have been so obnoxious if he knew there was a man with a very loaded, very dangerous weapon lurking just about twenty feet away from him.

Granted, she had her own weapons, although she’d wisely left them out of sight, and off her body, as much as she hated it. The man saw too clearly, though, and if he’d seen a weapon on her, he would have been gone.

Hard to guard a body when the body was hauling ass to the state line.

As she sauntered into the kitchen, one large pie in her hands and a box of wings on top, she kept her focus on the kid. Wasn’t hard, since Gus wasn’t in the kitchen just yet. The first thing he’d done once the front door shut was move out of the kitchen. All lazy, easy moves, from the way he looked, but he’d wasted no time getting the bag he’d tucked behind the front door.

Whatever he carried in that thing, it must be important. As he came back into the kitchen, his gaze sought out Alex. The kid gave him a wan smile and she could all but feel a pop in the air as some of the tension drained away.

Pretending not to notice their preoccupation, she dumped the pizza on the table. “I kept it basic,” she said, flipping the lid up. “I was kind of figuring you might want something—I hear about how boys your age always have room for food and I figured it was the least I could do to say thanks. I doubted you’d want the garbage truck approach I take to my food.”

Alex wrinkled his nose, relaxing a little more as he leaned in and eyed the pizza. “Garbage truck?”

“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “I get it loaded with just about everything.”

She found the cabinet where she’d already put the plates. One thing about moving in—if you didn’t get the basic stuff out, toiletries, dishes, books—books were very basic—then it just made it that much more annoying. She grabbed three of them and passed them out before moving to the fridge. “All I have is sugary stuff,” she said, shooting Gus a wry smile. “I’ve got the appetite of a six-year-old boy. Coke, Big Red, some root beer. I do have milk, but it’s chocolate.”

“I’ll take a Big Red,” Alex said.

She glanced at Gus. He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll have water.”

“I have beer,” she offered. She snagged a Big Red for Alex, another Mike’s Hard Lemonade for herself. “And these?”

He snorted and shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

SHE shouldn’t have had the second lemonade.

Vaughnne could admit that nearly two hours after they left as she emerged from a deep, deep sleep to the sound of her alarm.

She’d set her phone to go off because she wanted to take a good look around and get a feel for things when she wasn’t going to be seen. So that meant . . . at night.

But she was exhausted. If she didn’t plan on trying to get some more sleep, she might have gone and chugged a few of the Monsters she had stashed in the fridge, but she was damned well going to get sleep unless all hell broke loose.

She didn’t think that was going to happen.

Everything inside her body was just screaming for bed, and if there were problems, adrenaline would be crashing through her and clearing away the clouds. That only made it harder to drag her tired ass out the door once she’d donned a black tank top and some black jogging shorts. She’d thought about going for something a little more concealing, but that kid already had her reevaluating things.

She’d come up with something if they woke up and saw her snooping around. Vaughnne was nothing if not clever and quick on her feet, but if she was dressed up all ninja-like, that was not going to set the oh-so-sexy Gus or the oh-so-scared Alex at ease.

Why are you so scared, anyway, kid? she wondered as she started down the street. Right now, the plan was to get the lay of the land. Nothing like a midnight jog for that. Even had an excuse. She couldn’t sleep. They didn’t have to know she was lying.

It was a quiet neighborhood, she decided. Run-down and tired, but trying to cling to nice, and it looked like everybody here still tried to take care of what they owned.

And . . . each other, she figured out not even eight minutes into her run.

A cop car came around the corner and she grimaced, slowing to a stop, keeping her hands at her sides. She’d put her license in her pocket before she left—not her license, but one of the fakes she carried for working so she was in the clear there. Even as the two cops climbed out of the car, she figured it wasn’t a total irritation that they’d been called.

She had another piece of the puzzle. The people around here did watch things. Would make it harder for her to do what she needed to do. Harder. But not impossible. Also made it safer for the kid. A little, at least.

As the younger cop loitered off to the side, she focused on the older one. A tall guy, his skin nearly as black as the night, smiled at her, a nice, professional smile. “Ma’am.”

“Evening.” Then she grimaced and looked around. “I guess I should say night.”

“Guess so.” He smiled a little more naturally. “It’s kind of late for a jog. Had a call about a strange woman prowling around.”

Damn. Glad I didn’t go for the prowling method, Vaughnne thought. Even as she thought, she gave a disgruntled sigh and swiped a hand over the back of her brow. “Do I really look like I’m prowling around, Officer? I’m running.”

“At one in the morning?” his partner asked.

Younger. Rookie, Vaughnne decided. Still had the shine on him, and the stupid.

“I had a hard time getting to sleep,” she said mildly. “I just moved into my new place today and I don’t know where a gym or anything is around here. The only thing that helps me sleep when I’m having insomnia is a workout. So I went for a run.”

“Where did you move into?”

The response that leaped to mind was, None of your damned business. But instead of going with that, she shrugged and waved off to the east. “Westbrook Avenue, a few blocks over.”

Somebody who had never had trouble with the law, or didn’t work in law enforcement, was just going to answer that sort of question, because they automatically thought cooperating made everything better. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn’t. Right then, it didn’t hurt her to cooperate. Vaughnne was an old hand at dealing with law enforcement . . . from both sides. She carried a badge of her own now, but there had been a time when she was the one having trouble with the law. Lessons that had served her well more than once.

“Just moved into a new area and you’re out running around in the dead of night.”

She looked back at the rookie and lifted a brow. “I was told it was a safe area. Was I told wrong?”

“It’s a nice enough area,” the older cop said, subtly moving so that he stood just a bit between her and his partner. “But you can never be too careful, Ms. . . .”

“Caffee,” she said, sighing. “Vaughnne Caffee. Fine. I’ll head back home. Unless I’m in trouble for taking a damned run?”

“No.” He shook his head and smiled again. “No trouble. You understand, of course, we have to follow up on the calls we get.”

“Sure.” Without looking at the other one, she turned around and started back down the sidewalk. They watched her for a few minutes.

She took the longer route on the way back to the little house she was calling home. She still needed to get a better look at the setup where Gus and Alex lived. Figure out the best way to keep an eye on things. Although she already had a decent idea how she’d do that. The tricky thing was going to be getting it all set up.

The little house was even smaller than hers. More run-down than most of them, although she could see signs where somebody, probably Gus, was working on things.

Hard to tell in the dark, of course. The windows bothered her. Windows and doors were the most vulnerable areas of a house. Where did the boy sleep? In a room of his own?

There were no lights—

Then one flashed on and she crossed the road. Casual. Jogging across the road, waiting for that prickle feeling between her shoulder blades that would let her know she was being watched.

It never came. But as she unlocked the door and slipped inside, her breathing was coming far too erratic and her heart beat in a harsh, unsteady rhythm against her ribs. Leaning against the door, she edged to the side and peered through the narrow window, watching as a shadow moved through the house across the street.

IT had been years since he’d slept well.

Too many years.

Usually the dreams that plagued him were full of screams, or broken cries. Desperate whispers and fears and blood and misery.

This time, though . . . well, there had been broken cries. Desperate whispers. And heat. So much of it. He’d been back in that house across the street, but this time, he’d been alone there with Vaughnne, and when she’d gone to tug her bra strap into place, he caught her hand and stopped her.

He could remember how soft her skin had felt in the dream. So very, very soft . . . it would feel like that in real life, he thought. But in the dream . . . yeah. Yeah, she’d been soft. And when he went to strip her shirt away, she’d just stood there, watching him, her eyes intent and quiet, a strange little Mona Lisa smile on that wicked, sexy mouth.

He’d tangled his hands in her hair and feasted on her mouth like it had been decades since he’d touched a woman. It had only been four years, but that was too long.

Before he had managed to get her completely naked and bury his aching dick inside her, the dream had shattered. Gus didn’t know what had woken him, but whatever it was, he was awake and he knew better than to lie in bed when his body was suddenly humming with tension.

A quick glance at the clock told him that he’d gotten two hours of sleep.

Not enough.

But it didn’t matter. He listened to the silence of the old house as he rolled silently out of the bed, his hand gripping the butt of his weapon. Back to the wall, he checked the hallway out of habit. His instincts said the house was empty, save for him and the boy. He didn’t trust them. Creeping down the hallway, he checked inside and saw that Alex was sleeping on his belly, face buried in a pillow.

Alex . . . Alex was asleep. That he would trust. Sighing, he sagged against the wall behind him and scrubbed a hand down his face while the adrenaline drained out of him.

Alex wouldn’t be asleep if there was any sort of threat within a hundred feet of the house. He was like a living, breathing danger meter.

“Gus?”

In the dim light, he could see Alex lift his head. Forcing himself to smile, he said, “Go to sleep, kid. It’s okay.”

Knowing the boy would sleep better if there were lights on while he was moving through the house, Gus flicked on the hallway light as he prowled around. He needed a drink, so before he did anything, he bypassed the kitchen and pulled down the bottle he kept stashed over the refrigerator. Tequila, cheap shit, but the only thing he could afford, straight, the burn of it heating his throat and then his belly as he moved through the house, checking it over once more.

Alex slept in the narrow little room he’d claimed for his own. It wasn’t intended for a bedroom, but neither of them worried about that. The cot in there wasn’t exactly what Gus wanted for him, but what Alex needed the most was to feel safe and he’d sleep better someplace closest to Gus, someplace where nobody could come in through the windows.

If they came in through the windows where Gus slept, they would have an unpleasant surprise, he thought. So very unpleasant.

Pausing by the open entryway, he watched as Alex rolled onto his side, hugging a pillow against him. You’re safe, Alex, Gus thought. And for as long as he breathed, Gus would do every damn thing he could to keep the boy safe.

Every damn thing. He’d make any sacrifice. Give up anything and everything. It didn’t matter what rivers he had to cross, what mountains he had to climb, what dragons he had to slay. The boy had lost enough. Gus’s job was to keep him from losing anything else.

Knowing the boy wouldn’t stay asleep if he remained there brooding, Gus took his tequila and slid outside to sit on the front porch.

Across the street, Vaughnne’s house was dark.

She’d be asleep, he thought. She’d been so tired with dark circles under her eyes and exhaustion in every line of her body when they left.

Stop thinking about her. He had no room in his life for that. Not for anything.

The only thing he had room for was the boy.

Alex was his focus, and that was the way it had to be.