Page 22 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

Okay. Okay.

This isn’t going to plan.

This is going so far off the plan, it doesn’t even resemble the plan.

Whatever grudge I held toward her seems to be chiseled away under a tumult of emotions that I can’t put into logical order. Every time I get a glimpse of who she could have been, the more my desire to protect her seems to swell.

But this? This doesn’t have anything to do with my protective instincts.

I’m aching to touch her. To press my lips against hers, to kiss the tender skin of her neck and see if she responds the way I think she will.

Her cheeks are flushed, her fingertips drawing slow, maddening circles on my skin. She licks her lips—nervous, maybe—but her gaze doesn’t drop. It holds mine like a dare.

A low sound escapes me—raw and involuntary—and she rewards me with the kind of shy smile that could bring a man to his knees.

Before I can stop myself, my mouth finds hers.

The first brush of contact steals my breath. Her lips are warm, tentative, then bold—like she’s spent a lifetime pretending she didn’t want this and can’t fake it anymore. Her fingers tangle in the hair at the back of my neck, and I slide my hands to her waist, anchoring her to me as if I could keep her from vanishing.

She leans in, answering every movement with one of her own, deepening the kiss with a hunger that knocks the sense clean out of me.

She tastes like risk and promise. Like something I was never meant to touch—but can’t let go of now.

Then—metal scrapes.

The unmistakable sound of a key turning in the front door punches through the haze, and I tear my mouth from hers, breath ragged, heart thundering.

I wrench myself away from her, spin around, and try to find my way back from a hormone-soaked fog as the front door opens and Caleb steps inside.

His clothes are rumpled, his eyes red-rimmed and shadowed, and his massive shoulders are sagging. His electric-blue eyes land on me then shift to Samantha before they narrow to almost a squint.

Heat tears across my skin, followed by guilt so profound it might as well be my father standing in the doorway.

Behind me, Samantha clears her throat and can’t meet my eye. As she scurries out of the room, Caleb’s gaze follows her, fixing on her feet. Swallowing hard, knowing what’s about to come, I head into the kitchen and pour him a coffee. He takes it without a word and sinks into the closest chair, sighing as he takes a sip.

I get the feeling he’s drawing it out, trying to find the right way to let me know he’s disappointed in me. I refill my own cup, settle into the chair that Samantha favors, and wait for the reprimand. With every moment of silence, the tension in the room grows, and somehow the anticipation is ten times worse than if he’d actually laid into me.

If it’s a tactic, it’s working.

I switch between simply waiting and glancing at my watch, counting the seconds that pass while he just quietly works his way through his coffee.

By my count, it’s been over five minutes, and he’s not spoken a word. The man is either exhausted or he’s trying to figure out the best way to let me have it. Either way, I don’t have a lot of time. Samantha is in the bathroom, and I still don’t have an update.

“I spoke to Delilah earlier,” I say.

He places his coffee cup down on the table next to Samantha’s and eyes me.

“You know why Silas hired Delilah?”

Since it’s an impossible question to answer, I let him answer it himself.

“Because she’s trustworthy and she has integrity.”

If he’d slugged me, it would have wounded me less.

“Look, I know?—”

He cuts me off with a frown.

“No, you look. We all make mistakes—Lord knows I’ve made plenty of them—but you are playing with a fire that’s already burned you once.”

“So why did you force me to stay here with her?”

His eyebrow rises.

“Are you blaming us because you can’t keep your hands to yourself? Last I knew, you were the perfect man for the job.”

My shoulders square.

“I was. I am. It’s just getting…”

He finishes for me.

“Complicated?”

I run my hand over my face and almost growl my words.

“Yeah. Okay, it’s complicated. I didn’t think it would be, but it is.”

He closes his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

“I didn’t come here to be your agony aunt. I came to tell you that the trail has gone cold. The yacht she was supposed to be on was scuttled, and the dinghy was gone.”

My stomach drops.

Gone.

The word echoes, hollow and sharp, bouncing around the empty spaces in my chest. I knew this was a long shot. I knew the chances were slim. But still, some reckless, desperate part of me had been holding out.

“They could be anywhere in Miami by now,” I say.

His eyes drift to the bedroom door.

“I don’t know what she’s told you to make you go gaga over her again, but I’d take it with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not gaga over her.”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“Then what was that?”

“A moment of weakness.”

His forehead wrinkles into a frown.

“Two days ago you wanted revenge. What happened?”

“I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t explain it. She’s…”

His face puckers.

“Possibly manipulating you, and that’s not something we can allow to happen.”

“You won’t allow it? I’m not a teenager. I can control myself.”

He yawns then pointedly looks at me.

“Would you bet your life on that? Because if she’s playing you, you’ll be dead before you realize.”

When I don’t answer, he rises to his feet and looks down at me as he stretches his arms over his head.

“I’ll text Luke and tell him you need his assistance here.”

I balk at the idea of a chaperone.

“There’s no need. It won’t happen again. You have my word I won’t lose sight of why I’m here.”

I extend my hand, and he accepts it, the force of his grip so powerful I work not to flinch.

“Expect a lot more drop-ins until this is resolved,” he says.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”