The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries #1)(29)

Chapter Seven


Sean knew the instant he entered the house that he wasn’t alone. He silently set down his bag and cursed the fact that this particular assignment didn’t allow him to carry. He could have used his SIG SAUER. Of course, he could imagine the questions Grace might have if she hugged him and felt the outline of a gun pressed into a holster against his flesh. She might inquire as to why her IT boyfriend needed a loaded gun. Still, he felt a little naked without it.

He left the door slightly ajar. He couldn’t be sure he could close it without a sound. He listened, standing in the hall patiently. Whoever was moving was doing it quietly, but he was in the bedroom. As Grace’s car was still gone and there was no other car in the drive, Sean had to suspect that this person didn’t want anyone to know he was here. Sean moved across Grace’s hardwood floors silently. He stuck close to the wall. Even on the first floor of a house, hardwood could creek. It was less likely to do that closer to the wall. He crept forward, his breath steady, placing his toe down, and then his heel. He would make his way into the kitchen. He might not have his trusty gun, but he was damn lethal with a knife as well. He played the scene out in his head. He would grab one of the smaller knives. It would be easier to wield and throw if he needed to. He would work his way back to the bedroom and have it at the bastard’s throat before the intruder knew he was no longer alone. Sean would then politely question the intruder. Interrogations had been one of his specialties as a chief warrant officer with the Green Berets.

Sean would have to make sure to bring the * on the tile if he decided to kill him. It would be a much simpler cleanup. He glanced at the clock. It was slightly past noon. He needed to get the damn chicken on or it wouldn’t be ready for dinner. Maybe he wouldn’t be so polite with the *. He was ruining Sean’s meal plan.

“Hello, little brother.”

Sean turned, and his breath stopped in his throat. “Fuck you, Tag!”

Damn it. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin. His brother moved like a wraith. Ian had always, always been able to get the jump on him.

Ian’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He sat in the den adjoining the kitchen with a book in his hand. His enormous body occupied Grace’s leather armchair like he owned it. But then Ian always reminded Sean of a king on his throne, no matter where he was sitting. Ian could be on the cheapest folding chair, and he seemed to turn it into something powerful merely by occupying it.

“I was about to slit whoever is back in the bedroom’s throat,” Sean declared.

Ian shook his head. “Please don’t. I would hate to have to bury Liam. It’s in his contract that if he’s killed, I have to haul his ass back to Ireland for burial. That bastard won’t even let me cremate him.”

Sean didn’t want to hear about whatever was in the Irishman’s contract. Liam was fairly new to the team, and Sean found him slightly annoying. He didn’t like the thought of him pawing through Grace’s belongings. “What are you doing here, Ian? I’m not supposed to check in until tomorrow.”

“Well, I was checking out this little book. Seriously, Sean? She’s reading a book called The Submissive’s Response. Women read this shit? This is like fantasy BDSM. No real Dom does stuff like this. He lets her tie him up. This author needs a little time with a real Dom.”

The last thing Sean wanted to do was discuss Grace’s choices in literature. “Again—I ask, what the f*ck are you doing here?”

“You were supposed to check in yesterday.” His brother set the book down. Ian’s hands steepled in his lap. He sent Sean a look guaranteed to remind him who was the big brother and who was the little one.

Sure enough, Sean couldn’t help but feel defensive. “I left Eve a message. I was busy working. I had to put in time with Wright and then got roped into a dinner meeting. You know how rough a deep cover assignment can be.”

Ian gestured around the comfy little room. “You’re not exactly posing as a drug dealer deep inside a crime syndicate, Sean. You could have found the time to sneak away and call in. I expected you to call at ten last night. What were you doing?”

Grace. He’d been doing Grace, in the pool, and then in the bed. The image played in his brain. Then, when he should have been copying the hard drive from her computer, he’d been holding her while she slept. He wasn’t about to mention that little piece of information to his brother. “I told you—I was busy.”

“Obviously. So you’re finally in the lady’s bed.” To Sean’s mind that sounded a bit like an accusation. “It took you long enough considering the lady’s choice in reading entertainment. You could have been in her bed a long time ago.”

Sean hadn’t wanted to push it. This whole line of conversation was making him uncomfortable. “We’re friends.”

Ian stared at him, his eyes like laser beams looking for something to cut. “She gave you the key to her house. I would say you’re more than friends.”

He wasn’t having this particular conversation. He didn’t want to discuss the more intimate portions of his relationship with Grace. It felt too much like a report. What had happened between him and Grace last night hadn’t been about business. He certainly wasn’t going to hold back when it came to anything important to the case, but Ian didn’t need to know how right it had felt to hold her or how damn content he’d been when he woke up this morning pressed against her body.