FOUR
Libby was furious with him, and he thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.
The way her corners of her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed made him want to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the deep recesses of the cabin they were in. He wouldn't let her out until she was screaming his name at the top of her lungs and not a trace of that frown remained.
That caused him to shift his cock in his pants uncomfortably as he sat on a chair by the window facing the yard in front of the house. He could still feel her eyes boring into the back of his head, as if she expected him to give her some kind of explanation that would make everything better.
But he couldn't do it. And, as things stood, adrenaline was still coursing through his veins like ice cold vodka, and he was having a hard time focusing his attention on anything other than her juicy figure or the way she squirmed beneath him.
With a grumbled sigh, he re-adjusted.
Hell on earth.
"What exactly am I doing here?" Where am I?" Libby demanded, a hint of hysteria in her voice.
He didn't resent her for it. She was a non-combatant. A woman who never expected to be involved in something straight out of a high-budget action film. He'd give her a little leeway because she'd seen death and carnage and been thrown off a roof in a matter of hours. However, not too much.
"As I previously stated, you are in an undisclosed location near Laguna. My name is Andrew. "My team and I have been tasked with your protection, and I will keep you company here until the secondary unit arrives to pick you up in the morning," he explained.
He failed to mention that five men were stationed around the perimeter at various distances and vantage points, training every piece of surveillance equipment on and around the cabin. And that he could have been outside as well, but chose not to. Something about her made him smolder and act like the irrational kid he hadn't been since they beat the hell out of him in basic training. And yet, here he was, getting a boner because a pretty girl was annoyed with him.
Certain things remain constant.
"You already told me that," she began, emphasizing the patience in her voice that had long since vanished. "However, I'd like to know where I am and why I'm here! Could you please tell me?"
He chuckled under his breath, leaning back in his chair and casting a long, rowing glance at her. Mitch, Shaun, Tom, Tim, and Jordan had this place under lock and key. At this point, he was nothing more than a contingency to the contingency. But he had to pretend he was doing something other than admiring the scene Ellie had created, her cheeks flushed with rage and her hands on her hips. When she wasn't dealing with bodies dropping dead around her, she could go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds.
Jerome couldn't help but admire a woman with that quality.
I like a lot of things about her, he reflected, darkly amused.
"No, honey, I'm afraid I can't tell you any of that. You just have to believe in me and my boys. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, we'll keep you safe," he said, letting his deep voice rumble a little too loudly.
So he was strutting his stuff a little. It's a big deal.
"Stop referring to me as honey. "My name is Libby," she explained, exasperated.
She'd taken her coat off and washed her hands and face. They'd arrived at the cabin about a half-hour earlier, and the takeout that had been waiting for them was sitting cold on the table, despite the fact that neither of them was particularly hungry. Jerome needed time to recover from the game's high, and Ellie... well, seeing guts spill out of a guy does something to one's hunger. Unless they've grown accustomed to it.
"Sure thing, honey," he drawled, proudly wearing her glare.
"So, what can you tell me?" What brought you to my house? Who were those individuals? "What do they expect of me?"
Jerome shrugged, scowling slightly. This was one of the minor tasks they completed in between the major ones. It was only a side job for Squad Six, or Shifting Squad Six as their employers affectionately referred to them, if there weren't machine guns and aerial drop-ins involved. They were all ex-special ops or ex-army, the best of the best, and they knew it. The majority of them had left active duty for personal reasons, but the money in the private sector was too good to pass up for long.
It was supposed to be a simple job, in and out with no muss and no fuss. So far, it had only been that. With the unexpected bonus of being able to enjoy the company of a stunning woman thrown in for good measure. However, in most jobs, information was given solely on a need-to-know basis, and he didn't need to know. That meant she didn't, as far as he was concerned.
He shrugged casually, giving her a smirk that made her bottom lip curl in annoyance. What he wouldn't have given to turn that frown around.
"I'm not sure what they want from you, honey. I was there because some wealthy men in expensive suits paid me to be there. If it makes you feel better, we weren't there just for you. But I'm not at all disappointed that it turned out to be you," he said, his voice a low, growling purr.
Shit. That was the kind of behavior he could expect from himself after about five shots of tequila and a glass of whiskey, not when he was on the job. But the way her hair bounced off her brow when she threw her head back in frustration, and the way she kept wringing her hands together, did a number on him. Everything she did seemed to him to be a big, screaming sign. A sign that he shouldn't be sitting alone at that table.
She paced back and forth, allowing him to get a good look at her thick thighs and ample ass, which were made to be grabbed by his calloused hands. He put the rifle he'd been tinkering with on the windowsill and sat down to watch the show. She huffed under her breath, clearly more enraged than concerned. It was unsurprising. People dealt with the situation in their own unique ways.
She abruptly came to a halt and gave him a hard, irritated look. He shrugged casually and spread his hands, his best schoolboy grin on his face.