Hunted

“Uh huh,” was all he said.

 

We remained silent as I finished dressing his hand, wrapping it in several layers of bandages until he resembled a cheesy old Hollywood mummy. He wasn’t going to be using that hand for a while, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty that he’d been injured protecting me. The fact that it was all part and parcel of his job didn’t make me feel any less responsible for his injuries. The only small mercy was that he’d injured his left hand and would still be able to fire his gun if the need arose.

 

More like when the need arises, I thought, all too aware that I was now in the crosshairs of two raving lunatics. Pushing that thought from my mind, I took advantage of our brief moment alone to push a stray lock of damp hair back from his forehead.

 

Surprised, his eyes rose to meet mine and the weight of his gaze crashed into me with a physical force, causing my heart to thump in my chest. The wolf stirred, flexing and stretching in a way she hadn’t since before Johnson’s attack. It was thrilling to feel her aware again, my excitement bubbling over into other, more primal feelings.

 

Holbrook’s breath was soft and warm when I brushed my lips over his, ignoring the sting of my split lip in favor of brushing the tip of my tongue along the seam of his mouth. With a shuddering sigh he parted his lips, filling me with the minty sweetness of his breath.

 

“What was that for?” he asked, breathless and his cheeks full of color when I broke the kiss several moments later. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a quirk of his lips.

 

“Just wanted to say thanks,” I replied with a grin and a shrug.

 

“You thank everyone who puts their life in danger for you this way? ’Cause you know, that might require a lot of kissing.”

 

“Just the smart-assed ones.”

 

“Agent Holbrook?” a fresh faced man-child asked from the doorway, a harried expression on his flushed face.

 

“Yes?” Holbrook replied, all traces of amusement disappearing from his face in a heartbeat, though I was happy to see that he didn’t remove his hand from the curve of my hip.

 

“Sorry to…interrupt you…” the young man floundered, blushing an even darker shade of crimson, his eyes dropping to the highly polished toes of his shoes.

 

“Did you need something, Davis?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Oh! Umm Agent Santos…er…I mean, Division Chief Santos, wanted to see you, Sir.”

 

Biting my lip, I turned my head into the curve of Holbrook’s shoulder, trying to hide my laughter. The poor boy was so flustered it was beyond funny. From his reaction, you would’ve thought he was the one who’d been caught making out in the break room like a randy teenager.

 

“Thanks, Davis,” Holbrook replied, having far more luck keeping his laughter at bay though his efforts warmed the edges of his voice.

 

Once Davis had retreated, Holbrook caught the edge of my chin with a finger, the faint sizzle of energy bleeding through his touch setting my teeth on edge. Turning my face up to his he leaned in slowly, his lips hovering mere inches from mine when he said, “You, Ms. Cray, are nothing but trouble.”

 

“Yes, but I’m the best kind of trouble,” I replied before reaching up to close the space between us again.

 

***

 

 

When we entered Santos’s office, I was instantly sobered at the expression on his face. He was not a happy camper.

 

“Given recent…developments…” Santos began to say, shooting me an irritated glance when I snorted at his politically correct wording. “As I was saying, given recent developments, I’m going to have to insist that you return to protective custody right away.”

 

“You must be high if you think I’m going back to the hotel,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest in a stance of outright defiance.

 

“This isn’t a game, Ms. Cray,” he said, glowering at me.

 

“Oh yes, because I can barely contain my excitement.”

 

“You’re in protective custody. You have to be where we can protect you.”

 

“Protect me? Because you’ve done such a bang up job of that so far?” I asked. “Fat chance. I’m going home.”

 

I was already turning towards the door when Santos slammed his hand down on the desktop and said, “I can’t allow that.”

 

Turning to face him again, I matched his angry glare with one of my own and felt the wolf bleed into my voice and eyes. “Allow it?” Maybe he didn’t deserve my anger, but he was going to get it. “You put me in the custody of a wolf-hating, wife-murdering, asshat and told me I would be safe. What do we do for an encore? Perhaps you have some confused and armed sex offenders on the payroll?”

 

From the soundless working of his mouth I could see that my natural charm was in full effect. Before he could respond, I said, “Besides, I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

 

“Can I suggest an alternative?” Holbrook asked.

 

“No!” Santos and I growled in unison.

 

A.J. Colby's books