STRIKER FOLLOWED HER as far as the living room and stood by the sofa. From his position he could see her sit down at her workroom computer. It was only then that he crossed to the fireplace and stared at the flames. What the hell had happened in her kitchen? The desire he’d felt for her had shocked him to the core. And when he’d kissed her, he hadn’t wanted to stop. The kiss had packed a wallop but had been way too short.
When had a woman—a woman he was protecting—made him lose control? What was there about her that whenever he touched her, something inside of him would snap, make him even more aware of her as a woman? A woman he wanted.
With that admission, he drew in a sharp breath, clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists at his sides. He needed to start thinking with the right head and not the one that wanted like hell to get inside of her. It wasn’t that kind of party, especially with her. He needed to rope in his horny thoughts and concentrate on what he promised Roland he would do—protect her.
Needing to see her again, he walked back to the sofa and stared into the workroom. She hadn’t moved. And at that moment, as if she felt his gaze on her, she looked up from her computer. Damn. He felt it again. Desire so intense it was like a living element, stirring across his skin, being inhaled through his nose and getting absorbed into his body. That was the last thing he wanted or needed, and he immediately broke eye contact with her and walked into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
What the hell had happened to bring on this turn of events? They had been at odds until agreeing to a truce. In this case, a cease-fire between them might not have been such a good idea after all. Once their hands had touched to shake on it, some sort of dam had broken and it was on. He didn’t want to think what would have happened had he not gotten that call, and was thankful for the interruption. By rights, he should have known better. But deep down, he knew why he’d done it. He’d needed to see if the desire he’d felt when he touched her yesterday had been real or a figment of his imagination.
It had definitely been real.
He was trying to hold on to his sanity where Margo was concerned. The last thing he needed was to let her become his passion. Something he thought he couldn’t do without. He thought of something else that used to be his passion. Football.
It had been his dream to one day play for the NFL. Chances were he would have done so, but he hadn’t followed his mother’s orders about Wade. She didn’t care how much he loved football, didn’t care how much it had become his passion. She felt that the important thing was for him to look after Wade while she worked nights. Not wanting to miss any football practices, he’d thought that he’d found the best solution. In the end, he’d lost his brother because he had refused to give up something that had become a passion of his. Never again would he let something like that happen. Roland had entrusted Margo to him...just like his mother had entrusted Wade to him. Although his mother never blamed him for anything, he’d always blamed himself.
Striker knew that he and Margo needed to talk. Set things straight. What had happened in her kitchen couldn’t happen again. No touching. No kissing. Yes, definitely no kissing. He was here to protect her, not lust after her. And the last thing he could do was let her get under his skin and start thinking foolish thoughts about her. Hadn’t he promised himself years ago to never get attached to a woman? If he ever fell in love, he’d be risking losing her the same way he’d lost others that he’d loved.
Raising the coffee cup to his lips, he was about to take a sip when his phone rang again. He pulled in another frustrated breath when he saw the call was from Frazier Connelly.
“This is Striker,” he said into the phone.
“Striker, this is Frazier. Not sure if you’ve heard, but the authorities got their guy, which means your services are no longer needed.”
Striker shook his head. He’d been afraid Connelly would think that way. “An arrest means nothing, Frazier. Too early.”
“The FBI just ended a news conference. They seem confident they have the right guy.”
Don’t they always? Striker thought angrily. He could clearly recall men he’d befriended while in the slammer, who were innocent. The situation involving Sheppard Granger quickly came to mind. Shep had been locked up for fifteen years for killing his wife, and the real murderers had still been out there killing others.
“I feel confident the FBI knows what they’re talking about, so I’m relieving you of your services and—”
“You didn’t hire me, Frazier. Roland Summers did and I stay put until he says otherwise,” Striker cut in.
Frazier got quiet for a minute and then snapped, “Fine. I’ll talk to Roland to let him know my position.”
“Yeah, you do that. Good-bye.” Striker clicked off the phone.
Certain Margo had heard his cell ring, he went back into the living room. She was watching him. Did she know the caller had been her uncle? Needing to talk to her, he was walking toward the workroom when his phone rang again. This time it was Roland.
“Yes, Roland?”
“The FBI thinks they have their guy.”
‘So I heard,” Striker said, still holding Margo’s gaze.
“I want you to stay put,” Roland said.
“Connelly just called to relieve me of my duties.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Roland said angrily.
“I basically told him that and he wasn’t too happy about it, so expect a call from him.”
Striker noticed that Margo had finally broken eye contact with him to resume working on her computer. “Do you know what I think, Roland?”
“What?”
“That you and Connelly need to get together and work things out. Reach an agreement. It’s obvious that although there’re ill feelings from all the shit that happened years ago, the two of you strongly agree on one thing, at least.”
“What’s that?”
“Keeping Margo safe.”
*
MARGO DREW IN a deep breath as she tried concentrating on keying information into her computer. Striker was staring at her. She knew it because she could feel the intensity of his gaze. Why couldn’t she forget about that kiss? The feel of his mouth against hers? His tongue sucking on hers? Why even now was her entire body still tingling from head to toe?
If the call hadn’t come in, would he have kept on kissing her or would she have eventually stopped him? For some reason, she doubted it. She’d barely gotten a taste of him but had enjoyed what she had gotten and ashamedly admitted she had wanted more from Lamar “Striker” Jennings.
Something he’d said earlier piqued her memory as well as her curiosity. He wasn’t overly fond of his first name. Why? At the time he’d said it, she’d been too annoyed with him to question him about it. But at some point, she would. And then there were those two phone calls he’d received. He’d been looking at her while talking on the phone. It was times like this that she wished she had the ability to read lips. Had he received more news about the man that had been arrested? Was there confirming evidence he was the assassin the authorities had been looking for?
She felt a presence beside her and jerked around, finding Striker standing next to her chair. She placed her hand on her chest to still her heart. Her pulse was racing like crazy. She hadn’t heard him enter her office. “Striker, you scared me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but we need to talk. Your uncle Frazier wants to relieve me of my duties here since an arrest has been made. However, Roland agrees that I should stay awhile to make sure they got the right man.”
“So what’s the verdict? Do you stay or leave?”
“Connelly will be talking to Roland. Hopefully Roland will convince him why it’s important that you’re not left unprotected, even with the recent turn of events.”
“Okay, let me know what’s decided.” She didn’t want to think of the possibility that the wrong man had been arrested and the real assassin was still out there, getting ready to kill again.
She turned back to her computer, and when he continued to stand there, she glanced back up at him. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”