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A faint brush of our lips made my stomach dip, urging me closer. This kiss was different, not him taking from me, but allowing me to take control and keep it slow like the moment deserved.

Five seconds, maybe ten, our soul-speaking kiss lasted before a loud rumbling engine revved up the drive, pulling us apart. My knees shook, lips burned, desperate to be soothed by his. He was everything I ever wanted in a man, yet still more than I ever expected. A simple kiss and my breath was gone, a delirious fog settling over my thoughts.

Cas said he wasn’t a gentle man, but I hoped he’d be gentle with my tender, innocent heart.

18

Cas

Out of spitefor the fucker who interrupted us, I lingered by the door, waiting to swing it open until a few annoyed knocks rattled the hinges. Ice crackled between us as John stood across the threshold, each of us staring the other down. His eyes narrowed at my smile. A part of me wanted him to try something, anything to lay his ass out.

“Agent Peters called, said you had a new development and I should come over.”

Still I remained in the middle of the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, preventing him from entering. I wasn’t as bulky as some of the other guys at the USPP, but still formidable enough to kick anyone's ass even if they were twice my size.

The boys who knew me best said it was my detachment from people that helped me fight better than anyone they’d ever known. I had no pity, no remorse. I always assumed that was the primary trait I received from my birth mother, whoever the fuck she was.

The system molded me. Each foster home, each person who took me in just for another government paycheck, chipped away any emotion or feeling for people I might’ve been created with. Then what little hope I had left in humanity or the desires of ever being wanted were beaten out of me in the marines. But what they took from my soul, they gave something back in return—purpose. They needed me, and I needed them. It worked out well for both sides. I was their efficient killing machine.

That’s what you become when you don’t care if you lived or died.

After making the bastard sweat a few more seconds under my hard stare, I shoved off the doorframe and stepped aside. I braced myself for the yelling and accusations to begin between Alta and John, but they didn’t. Not a single word was uttered. Confused, I turned and scanned the room.

My lips curved up as I shook my head.

Of course she hid.

That woman was becoming the one woman I never wanted to be without. Which was fucking stupid, considering I hadn’t even fucked her yet. Hell, we hadn’t even done middle school hand shit. No way could I be thinking long term about someone I’d only known a few days, even if it felt more real than anything I’d ever had before.

The overwhelming necessity to protect her was the most unexplainable thing. Only in the heat of battle, when the lives of my men and the lives of other American soldiers were on the line, did I have this desperate, all-consuming need to protect what was mine. Somehow within the first few seconds of meeting her that first day, she locked herself in the ‘must protect what’s mine’ category. Every inch of my body, especially one long—and still somewhat hard after that strange kiss—body part, told me she was mine.

And no one messed with what was mine.

I had nothing in life to call my own before her.

My Lady.

Mine.

“Damn,” Peters said with a low whistle after walking into the living room. “You got here fast.”

“You said it had to do with Officer Johnson.”

Peters’s brows shot up at my loud, scoffing chuckle.

“Speaking of Birdie—” Peters paused at my slight head shake and pointed nod to my bedroom. “Right,” he chuckled. “We do have a new development.” The note, now encased in an evidence bag to keep it safe, floated to the coffee table.

John stepped forward, picked up the small baggie and flipped it between his fingers. After reading the inscription, his features hardened.

“I told her to stay the fuck away from this case. I told you two to keep her away from it, and now look.” He slammed the note down and stalked closer, looking pissed as hell. “She’s been through enough in her damn life. She doesn’t need this. If he doesn’t kill her, being stalked all over again will break what’s not already broken in her.”

“She’s not fucking broken,” I growled, taking a step toward him and putting us face-to-face.

He huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Really? And you know that how? I’ve known her for years, and believe me, that woman needs someone to look after her, to help her get over her fears, not put her in situations where she’s in the fucking crosshairs again!”

“Cas,” Peters said in a calm tone, sticking an arm between us, “let it go. We have to figure out what we’re going to do with her.”

“You’re not going to do anything with me.” Alta’s tone was calm and steady. “It’s my life. My broken life,” she added with a glare to John before focusing back on Peters. “I get that I’m in danger, and y'all don’t want me in the middle, but I’m already here, and I think… I think I can help if I stick around. I’m not leaving.”