Page 3 of Too Guarded to Love (Project VIPER #3)

R ain clung to Nic’s lashes as he stared at the prickly beauty. He didn’t dare blink as she debated answering his question. Or maybe she was contemplating decking him for calling her a sirena.

He wouldn’t take the nickname back. Another punch to the face would be welcome if it got a rise out of the wet woman with wild curls past her shoulders. Hell, when lightning flashed and the streetlight flickered, her blue dress shimmered like a mermaid’s tail.

He shouldn’t give a damn about what had brought her to the beach.

Or want to brush away the raindrops slowly sliding into the cleavage of her V-neck.

Changing her flat and sending her on her way should be his top priority, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking again.

“What did the bastard who wouldn’t let you lead do? ”

She clenched her slender fingers at her sides.

His body sang at the thought of his cock sheathed in her palm.

Earlier tonight at DJ’s Tavern, several women had offered to help ease his sorrow.

Their advances hadn’t stirred a lick of interest. This woman with the slight twang that grew stronger with her agitation churned something he didn’t think his tired body and tortured mind capable of tonight.

A raindrop slid down her cheek as she stepped toward the trunk of the car. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I just want to change the tire and get to my friend’s house.”

He held her gaze, relieved she had the good sense to keep an eye on him.

She didn’t know he was one of the good guys.

Thank God he’d decided to go for a run before holing up in his buddy’s bungalow and cracking open a bottle of homemade moonshine.

The Department of Defense didn’t grant leave from Project VIPER often.

Tonight, he could imbibe enough to silence his nightmares.

Time off to attend a funeral had its perks.

Unfortunately for her, smashing into a parking meter did not.

He eyed the damage to her rental car. The shattered cell phone at the tip of her cowboy boot.

The saturated dress clinging to every tempting curve.

She didn’t appear to be a local. If he’d seen her at one of the restaurants or beach bars, he’d remember, yet something familiar shimmered at the edge of his memory.

And who would come to a beach town in the middle of a March storm dressed for a picnic in a sunny prairie?

Caring about who hadn’t treated her as an equal wasn’t his problem. Still, he met her at the trunk. He’d let her lead until it became unsafe. The protective trait that wouldn’t let him walk away from someone in distress, especially a woman, had been inherent long before he went to West Point.

Too bad his parents, or their relatives in Puerto Rico and Colombia, who hadn’t stepped up when he’d been orphaned, hadn’t possessed similar attributes.

“Tell me what I can do to help.” He crossed the few feet to her side and shoved his bionic hand deeper into his pocket.

Tension spiraled up his artificial arm as he waited for direction.

A deserted street wasn’t the ideal place to flaunt his weaponized, bionic limb that Project VIPER seamlessly attached to his shoulder after he’d lost his arm in the Middle East. Instead, he stretched out his flesh-and-blood hand, glad the pants he’d thrown on over his shorts covered his equally deadly, equally intimidating steel leg. “I’m?—”

Thunder drowned out his name.

She waited for the cacophony above to pass before she wrapped her fingers around his. “I’m Olivia.”

Warmth enveloped his palm and crackled through his fingers.

He opened his mouth to repeat his name, but a jolt of electricity, or maybe it was the lightning that lit up the silver charms on her bracelet, seized his words.

Thunder rolled again as he committed her face, along with every detail he’d noticed, to memory.

When he fell asleep tonight, he wanted to remember the moment he’d seen a look of appreciation flash in her stormy, coastal gaze.

Remember the rush he’d felt in those heartbeats when she couldn’t disguise her attraction.

Dreaming about her eyes that called to him like a sunbeam penetrating the darkest day, focused only on him as she kneeled at his feet, might get him through the night. He’d even enjoy the memory of her stubborn independence he couldn’t help but respect, but he didn’t dare flirt.

Didn’t dare question why she kept looking over her shoulder.

The vulnerability she hid with snarky confidence shouldn’t pique his interest on any level, especially the urge to defend her against whoever she feared coming out of the shadows. Was she running from something?

Or someone?

She looked over her shoulder again. Fear of shadows usually meant secrets. He’d meant it when he said his rescuing days were over. The last time he’d let himself get caught in a woman’s shadows, he’d paid full price. A tire change was all the rescue he could afford.

Yet, that hint of familiarity he couldn’t place called to him. With each rise and fall of her breasts, different shades of blue, from dark and stormy to crystalline and sharp, swirled in her eyes.

Flashing lights approached, as if mirroring his spiraling thoughts.

Nic turned his attention to the patrol car. He recognized the short legs and stocky body that slid out. What was Joe doing here? The guy had been barely able to speak through his tears when they’d said goodbye at DJ’s Tavern a couple of hours ago with a man hug and a gruff, “Love ya, bro.”

Emotion clogged Nic’s throat as he sighed. Stella’s funeral had taken a toll on him. He could only imagine what it had done to Joe. The guy should be home after burying his little sister this morning, but Nic understood the need to do something when you couldn’t do anything.

Hell, he’d convinced a social worker to let him play baseball after his mother’s funeral.

As a ten-year-old newly minted orphan, the only thing he could do was control the game from behind home plate.

He’d even managed to pick off three players at second base, despite his fears for the future and bruises from the past. Strange how he’d played the best game of his career on what should have been the worst day of his life.

Tonight, he didn’t have the strength to hide his pain, physical or emotional. He looked at the woman who’d derailed his attempt to run from it. “That officer’s name is Joe. We served together. He’s a good guy.”

She wiped a mess of sandy-colored curls from her cheek and nodded. How many shades would the thick strands be when they dried?

Doesn’t. Matter.

He reached for the button to pop her trunk. “Let’s get you on your way.”

If his VIPER teammates could see him helping a gorgeous woman without so much as a single pickup line, they’d ship him back to headquarters in DC for a psychological assessment. He wouldn’t blame them. His inability to flirt said a lot about his mental state. They called him Casanova for a reason.

Most women marveled at the high-tech appendages he’d gained after he’d lost an arm and leg during a routine maneuver.

He relished women thinking his sleek, black limbs were sexy.

Didn’t feel an ounce of silliness or conceit when he and his VIPER teammates referred to their weaponized body parts or the technology networked into their brains as “super.”

He and his brothers-in-arms, and brothers in every other sense of the word except biological, epitomized action heroes come to life.

The military classified the four of them as human weapons.

But since he’d begun to piece together facts and suspicions about Stella’s death, and the two before hers, he didn’t feel so super.

Enhanced strength and a built-in weapons system were useless when you didn’t have all the answers to identify an enemy.

Joe pulled his hat over his eyes and strode toward the rental car. “Problem?”

Nic pointed to the parking meter. “Yeah. Someone ran her?—”

Olivia shot him a glare. “I can speak for myself.”

Nic caught his friend’s “what did you say to piss her off” look from the corner of his eye. He ignored it and held Olivia’s gaze. “By all means, sirena , take the lead.”

As she huffed and turned to Joe, an alert sounded in his head. He thought his passphrase to accept the mind comms call, still incredulous VIPER’s scientists invented a way for the team to communicate through electrical brain impulses. “What’s up?”

“Drink my moonshine yet?”

Nic chuckled at Linc’s question. The moody pilot from Alaska had a wall around himself harder than both steel legs he’d gained after his fighter jet crashed. He wouldn’t offer heartfelt condolences. He lent support by sharing his cousin’s Alaskan moonshine.

“Not yet. Are you at headquarters?”

“Affirmative. We got out of a briefing about Richardson about an hour ago. Chris and Kane should be here any minute with pizza for poker night.”

Good. All his brothers were in one place and taking a well-deserved break. “Any updates on Richardson’s location?”

“No, Chris isn’t happy his wife’s stepfather—oh, and also her kidnapper— is still loose in the wild.”

“ I’m not happy about it either .” After months of investigating, it was still unknown if the famous business mogul who plotted with terrorists to abduct Dr. Scarlett Kerrigan, the brains behind VIPER’s cybernetic technology, had escaped or was “rescued” during a prison transfer.

Either way, they’d find him and throw his psychotic ass back in prison.

Or in a grave.

Even after they’d apprehended Richardson over a year ago, he still managed to terrorize from behind bars.

The narcissist who thought he was a king because he had money and influence with the worst kind of people wouldn’t stop being a threat until he was dead.

He’d already tried to bring VIPER down. He was still trying.

They needed to find him, but right now, an immediate matter jockeyed for Nic’s attention.