Page 10 of Protected from Malice (Blade and Arrow Shadow Team #1)

RAFE

I should get off the bed and go back to the floor again.

Lay down on the scratchy comforter and wait out the remaining hours until the sun rises.

Get as close to the door as possible, just in case someone tries to come in.

I don’t think that’ll happen, not with the precautions I took—paying cash for the hotel room and using a fake ID to book it, plus finding the most roundabout route from Eden’s house to this three-star hotel on the outskirts of Portland so I could easily tell if anyone was following us.

As I glance at the carpet Eden was so worried about me sleeping on, I mentally downgrade the hotel rating from three stars to two.

It does look pretty nasty, honestly. There’s a large brown stain over by the beat-up dresser and another one peeking out from beneath the closet door. And I shudder to think of all the things on the floor that would only show up with a black light.

The entire room is pretty disappointing, really. Not that I was expecting something fancy. Hotels that accept cash as payment and hire red-eyed employees that still smell like the weed they smoked five minutes ago in the back office aren’t exactly the five-star type.

But I wish I’d brought Eden someplace a little nicer, at least.

Someplace that doesn’t carry the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and onion.

Someplace with furniture that isn’t covered with scratches and water stains.

Someplace with a little kitchenette so I could make her coffee and an actual meal for breakfast instead of the stale honey buns the front desk receptionist brought us from the vending machine.

I’ve stayed in plenty of places worse than this myself. Places where I wouldn’t even take my shoes off for fear of picking up some kind of foot fungus. Places I wouldn’t have been surprised to see on the news as a crime site later on, after a drug deal or illicit hookup went wrong.

But Eden…

It just seems wrong to see her here.

Curled up on the mattress beside me, her curls splayed out across the lumpy pillow, her features finally relaxed, long lashes fanning over her pale cheeks and her rosy lips slightly parted as she makes this cute, humming sound as she sleeps.

Her hand clutching my leg, so delicate but strong, just like she is.

She smells clean. Fresh. Innocent. Like sweet lemonade mixed with a hint of something floral. And another indescribable scent that’s only her.

It’s a scent that’s been burned into my memory, into my senses, since the first day I met her.

Though I know I shouldn’t, I brush a curl away from her face, letting my fingers trail through her silken hair for a moment. She stirs at my touch, and I hold my breath.

I don’t want Eden to wake up. Not when she just fell asleep thirty minutes ago.

Then she turns towards me, nudging herself closer.

Her face burrows into my side.

Her hand slides up my thigh.

And my damn body reacts to it—thickening, aching, demanding.

Her hand is only inches from the rapidly growing bulge in my shorts, barely restrained by the mesh fabric covering it.

Fuck.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Of course she doesn’t. Eden’s just reaching for me because I make her feel safe. Because she trusts me, although if she knew what was going through my mind right now, I’m not sure she would.

Although.

She said she was glad I’m here. Not Indy.

She leaned her head on my shoulder as we watched TV.

She fell asleep on me, which may have been the most perfect moment of my life. Eden’s soft breath whispering across my neck, her breasts pressing against me, giving me all of her weight…

Shit.

I need to stop thinking about this.

Stop thinking about feelings I put to bed a long time ago.

I need to think about the rest of the night—morning, really, since the clock puts the time at ten to five—and the plan for the day.

There are calls I need to make. A possible hotel change, if I can find one that fits my specifications. Finding food for Eden, since she hasn’t eaten anything aside from honeybuns and a crumpled box of Skittles since lunch yesterday.

And getting my ass back down on the floor. Removing myself from temptation.

But the moment I start to move off the bed, Eden’s hold on me tightens. She snuggles closer. A soft sigh escapes her lips.

Dammit.

I can’t make myself leave.

I don’t want to.

As I’m watching Eden, she twitches. Her features pinch. Tiny lines form between her eyes and across her brow. The soft humming sound she’s been making turns into a whimper. Her fingers dig into my leg.

Another nightmare?

“Shhh,” I murmur as I lightly stroke her hair. “You’re safe. No one can hurt you. I’m here.”

I repeat it several times before she settles.

And of all the things I’ve done in my life, this is right up there as one of the ones that makes me most proud.

Such a small thing, soothing Eden back to sleep. But one my buddies wouldn’t think me capable of. Not tough, emotionless Rafe; the one people call on to get the bad stuff done.

I’d never say it to anyone, not even Indy. But sometimes I ache for something gentle, too. A woman to hold, not because it’s expected after a hookup, but just because I want to.

But not just any woman. Eden.

I want to hold her. Show her I can be gentle. Show her I’m more than just Indy’s teammate, but a man who’s been thinking about her for years.

Except I’m not what she needs. Smart, sweet, incredible Eden needs a white knight in shining armor.

Not a tarnished one, his armor all bloody and stained from things he’d never, ever want Eden to know about.

She needs someone smart. Sensitive. Career-driven.

But also someone who’ll protect her with his life, like I would.

Not for the first time, and I’m sure not the last, I wish things could be different.

That I could be her knight.

Shit. If my buddies knew what I was thinking—knights in shining armor and being gentle and cuddling—they’d piss themselves laughing. They’d make fun of me mercilessly. They’d?—

My phone buzzes, jittering across the nightstand.

I snatch it up, silencing it while stealing a quick look at Eden, hoping the sound didn’t wake her. But she’s still asleep, snuggled against my leg, humming her little relaxed snore again.

Good.

My first thought is that it’s my boss. Even though I said I was out of town, he probably thinks he can convince me to pick up a job, anyway. I’m his best bounty hunter, so when the real tough cases come in, I’m always the first one he calls.

Then I see the flashing alert on the screen, and my adrenaline surges.

My muscles tense.

My heart races. Then just as quickly, I force it to steady, drawing on my decades spent in the Army, when a moment of panic could mean the difference between life and death.

The alarm’s been triggered.

Someone’s trying to get in.

The tiny camera I installed above the door shows a man outside it, all in dark clothes with a hoodie pulled tight around his face. He’s hunched over, fiddling with the lock, either trying to bypass the wiring or jimmy the mechanism in the door.

I know that’s what he’s doing, because I’ve done it myself. Although much faster and stealthier than this asshole, which makes me think he’s an amateur.

Either way, he’s no match for me. Not on a regular day, and especially not when it comes to protecting Eden.

I could stop him right now. Yank the door open and bust him red-handed. But then I risk drawing attention from anyone else who might be in the hallway. Plus, if I actually let him break in, he’ll be arrested for breaking and entering. Possibly attempted assault, if he has a weapon on him.

I could let him come inside.

Take him down in the privacy of our hotel room.

Do a little interrogation myself before turning him over to the police.

Because while I know there are some good cops out there, I’ve also seen firsthand how they can fail the people who most need their help.

It’s why Cole formed Blade and Arrow all those years ago—to fill in the gaps that police bureaucracy and red tape couldn’t.

I agree wholeheartedly.

There are some great cops, no doubt. But when it comes to making sure the job’s done right, I’d rather do it myself.

Decision made, I shake Eden awake. Her eyes pop open, wide and scared. Before she can say anything, I put my finger to her lips and whisper urgently, “Someone’s trying to get in. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it. But I need you to hide in the bathroom. Now.”

Guilt swamps me as she immediately starts to shake. Her breath quickens. Her nails dig into my leg.

“Rafe, no . Just call the police.”

The man on the video feed bypasses the electronic lock.

My gaze darts to the door as it slowly cracks open.

A metal tool slides between the doorjamb and the door; a tool I recognize as a favorite for jimmying swing bars.

Which means we have maybe twenty, thirty seconds until he makes his way inside.

And I can’t have Eden in view when he does.

Leaping from bed, I land on silent feet like a cat, just as I was trained.

Then I lift Eden into my arms and carry her to the bathroom, depositing her inside.

I cup her cheek as I hold her gaze. In an almost inaudible tone, I tell her, “Lock the door. Get in the corner behind the sink. And do not come out until I tell you it’s safe. ”

Fear flashes across Eden’s face. Her pulse flutters at the base of her neck. “Rafe.”

“It’s fine.” Hating myself for it, I back out of the bathroom and pull the door shut, her frightened eyes burned into my memory.

Thank fuck, she follows my instructions, and I hear the reassuring click of the bathroom door locking.

It’s not a good lock, a child could get it open if they wanted, but I have no intention of the intruder getting close enough to try.

With Eden stashed away, I rush across the room and tuck myself behind the door. I pull my Sig from my waistband and rest my finger on the trigger guard, ready to fire if I need to.