Page 2 of When He Fights (Protector & Defender #3)

“ Ana. ” He reached out for her but…stopped himself.

Instead of touching her, his hands flattened on the wall behind her.

“You have been living on fear and adrenaline. Your emotions are all over the place. I’m a safe fucking harbor for you.

But what you think you feel for me? It’s temporary.

When the danger has passed, when you have your new life and this is all just a bad dream, you will regret me. ”

She could never regret him. “I want you. I’m falling for you.”

His eyes glinted. “You don’t know me.”

“I—”

“You know what I’ve told you about myself.

Bits and pieces of my life. You think I’m safety, but I’m not.

I’m as fucking dangerous as your ex, and the last thing you need is to get involved with someone like me.

Because you’re wrong. I’m not a safe harbor.

I’m a nightmare. One that you won’t be able to escape, not if you give yourself to me.

Not if we cross this line.” His head came in closer to hers.

She could not look away from his eyes.

“I fuck you? If I do that, I won’t let go. When the time comes for me to give you up, for you to go on to that new life, I won’t let go. ”

Why was that such a bad thing? “Maybe we could have a life together.”

“Because you like to fuck monsters?”

His words hurt. She flinched, unable to help herself.

“Dammit! Ana, I’m—” He shoved away from the wall. From her. Took two steps back. No, three. Four. Stood there with his hands fisted at his sides. Kane pulled in a deep breath. Then another. “You don’t know what I want to do to you.”

She’d thought he wanted to fuck her. Instead, he seemed to be putting up new walls between them.

“There are rules,” Kane stated as he rolled back those broad shoulders of his. “Rule one is that I don’t fuck the witness. I protect her.”

Right. Witness. That was her.

“I don’t keep the witness. There is no place for her in my life.”

Brutal. She blinked quickly because a watery film had just obscured her vision.

“There is no place for me in hers,” he continued flatly.

Because he didn’t want a place. She would have gladly made a place for Kane in her life.

His gaze never wavered from hers. “Fucking would change everything.”

She wasn’t so sure it would. Anastasia was afraid it might change nothing. That they’d have sex. Insanely amazing sex. And he’d still walk away when the time came.

“I’ve been keeping my hands off you.” His hands were currently clenched. “It’s taken every ounce of my self-control, but I’ve done it. I watch you. I ache for you. But I know that I am not supposed to have you. You aren’t meant to be mine.”

Why not? No, she wouldn’t ask. She was already getting enough of a rejection.

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” Kane announced.

Right. The better to not fuck her. She stared at him. He stared at her. Time tick-tick-ticked so slowly past.

“It’s not real,” he said. “What you think that you feel? It will go away. It’s happened before.”

Oh, now that just hurt even more. “You often have witnesses who fall in love with you?” Who you fuck? Or, uh, don’t fuck?

“Close proximity. Forced proximity. Danger. Adrenaline. It’s a witch’s brew that plays with your emotions and channels your lust.” He side-stepped. His hands unclenched. “It’s not real.”

So why did it feel like it was?

He grabbed an empty ice bucket. “Going to get some ice,” he suddenly muttered. “Ice, some sodas. And, ah, you didn’t have any dinner tonight.”

She had no appetite.

“Maybe I can find one of those candy bars that you like so much in a vending machine.”

Really? He was gonna consolation prize her with the promise of a candy bar? A candy bar did not equal sex, and she was just so hurt. Rejected. Because Kane didn’t get it. The way she felt for him wasn’t just about safety. Or some confused, displacement BS.

It felt more real than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

“I’ll be right back.” Then the man basically double-timed it out of the motel room. The door clicked closed behind him.

Sure. He’d practically run away.

Why not?

She looked back at the bed.

One motel room. One bed.

One broken-hearted and thoroughly rejected Anastasia.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kane breathed as he stood in front of motel room one-oh-three. He looked down at his hands under the hard glare of the exterior light near the room, and sonofabitch, his fingers were actually shaking a bit. Shaking because he wanted Ana so very much.

He gripped the stupid ice bucket tighter.

I wanted to take her right there, against the wall. I wanted to drive hard and deep into her and feel her come around me. I wanted to make her scream. I wanted her nails raking down my back.

I never, ever want to let her go.

He stalked away from the motel room. Headed for the ice machine.

He damn well needed to cool down because the truth was that his body was always in overdrive anytime she was near him.

He was supposed to be protecting her, for shit’s sake.

Not wanting to constantly strip her and make her scream as she came for him.

He rounded the corner. Saw the machine. Heard the whir of the motor.

He’d done the right thing. If he crossed the line and slept with her, there would be hell to pay. He’d only taken the protection gig as a favor for his buddy Gray, but the Fed would be furious if Kane screwed up the case.

Or screwed her.

He shoved the bucket under the dispenser. Hit the button and watched as chunks of ice tumbled out.

I did the right thing. Because he would never, ever be right for Ana. No matter how much he wanted her. She was going to get a new identity soon. A new life. She didn’t need a bastard like him dodging her steps.

And he’d told her the truth. At least, partially. If he took her…

I don’t think I can let her go.

The ice kept tumbling down into the small bucket. The machine was loud as hell. Clanking. Gurgling. Grinding. His gaze darted to the left. A vending machine waited. Half-stocked.

He started searching for Ana’s favorite candy. The woman loved peanuts and milk chocolate.

And Ana said she loved me. That she was falling for me.

The ice overflowed from the bucket and poured down to the floor.

The motel room door opened behind her. A soft creak of the hinges.

Anastasia exhaled slowly and squared her shoulders.

Five minutes had passed—just five—but she’d gotten herself under control.

She’d swiped away those pesky tears. After all, crying never did anything but gave her a headache.

She didn’t want Kane to see her tears. Didn’t want him to know that her guts were twisted and her heart broken.

She pasted a smile on her face and swung around. “I was thinking we could watch one of those cheesy horror films that you like so—” Anastasia stopped.

Because that wasn’t Kane standing in the open doorway.

It was her ex. Logan Catalano stood there, wearing a wrinkled dress shirt, faded khakis, and grinning at her. “Found you.”

She stumbled back a step.

Logan tucked the key card into his pocket.

“Told the front desk clerk I’d been locked out of my room.

For twenty dollars, he gave me a new key, no ID required.

” He crossed the threshold, put up the Do Not Disturb sign, then he shut the door.

Locked it. The main lock, and the small, secondary lock on the door.

“Waited for the new boyfriend to leave. Then I came inside.”

Kane wasn’t her boyfriend.

I wanted him to be.

Logan bent down, reached toward his ankle, and when he rose, a knife was gripped in his hand.

“Did you say something about a horror film, sweetheart?” The sharp blade of the knife gleamed.

“Because you don’t have to watch a show.

I’ll let you be a real-life scream queen. Right now.” He lunged for her.

She did scream. As loud as she could. She screamed and she ran, but he was in front of the door so the only place she could run toward was the bathroom.

Anastasia dove for the small bathroom, thinking she could get inside and lock him out.

She could stay safe in there until Kane came back.

Kane would come back. She knew it with certainty.

But she didn’t make it to the bathroom. Logan grabbed her from behind. His fingers fisted in her hair, and he caught her, only to then slam her forehead into the bathroom’s door-frame.

She felt the thud through her whole body. Her breath shuddered out even as a pain-filled whimper slid from her.

“I’m so pissed at you, Anastasia,” he growled. His mouth was at her ear, his breath blowing over the shell.

Anastasia. He’d always called her by her full name. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d started to hate that name. Maybe it was why she liked Kane’s shortened version so much better. Ana was…

A new person.

A new life.

The knife was at her throat.

“I’m so pissed that I am going to make you beg me for my forgiveness.”

A droplet of blood slid down her neck.

Tears pricked her eyes. Those stupid tears again. Tears wouldn’t save her. Fighting would.

But he whipped her away from the doorframe and threw her toward the bed. She hit the side of it. Fell down to land in front of the small nightstand. Anastasia shoved her hair out of her way and looked up at her attacker.

He smiled at her. Classically handsome. Bright green eyes. Golden skin. Dimples. And his hand—his right hand with the swirling tattoos was wrapped around the knife. “I won’t cut that pretty face,” he promised her. “But you will beg.”

He rushed toward her.

She leapt to her feet. Ignored the dizziness and the throbbing in her head and she grabbed the lamp from the nightstand. She threw it at him. It just bounced off his chest. Bounced and then fell to the floor where it shattered.

“Keep it down in there!” Something banged against the wall. Sounded like the fist belonging to the person in the room beside her.