Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(49)

Miranda’s expression is serene. “I know. We’ve met on more than one occasion. He’s a big movie buff. I gave him a personal tour of the lot.” She smiles lazily. “He invited me to spend the night in the Lincoln bedroom at the White House.”

The subtext is clear. The leader of the free world has the hots for Miranda.

You have to admire a woman who can render four grown men speechless. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile.

Connor clears his throat. “Well. We’ll leave you to figure out the details. Harry, you know how to reach me. Tabby…” He sears me with a look. “Let’s go.”

I snort. “You’re funny, jarhead.”

“I’m not joking. We’re leaving. Together.”

Now everyone is looking at us. Heat sweeps up my neck. I say quietly, “No.”

Harry intervenes. “You can have two federal agents assigned to you, Miss West, or you can have Metrix. Your choice. But until this investigation is over, someone is keeping eyes on you twenty-four-seven.”

Livid, I glare at him. “I know my rights—”

“Use that big brain of yours to think of all the perfectly legal scenarios where you end up a lot worse than simply followed, Miss West. I’ve got fifteen agents who’ll swear under oath they saw you hack into the FBI’s database like you’d been doing it for years.”

It takes almost all my self-control not to execute a spinning axe kick on this turncoat and knock his head off his shoulders. “You gave me immunity for that!”

His brows lift. “Really? Because as I recall, those words never left my mouth. And we still haven’t addressed the issue Agent Rodriguez brought up—Polaroid, in case you’ve forgotten—or the fact that you were once intimately acquainted with our new friend Mr. S?ren Killgaard, hacker and extortionist, and, by your own admission, possible terrorist. I’ve got so much probable cause to lock you up, I could make a very convincing case for Guantanamo.”

When I take a step forward, my hands curled to fists, Connor is there to stop me.

“Easy, tiger.”

He stands in front of me, gazing down at me with that annoying look from before, like he thinks I’m made of glass and it’s his job to make sure I don’t get broken.

The only thing in danger of breaking here is someone’s jaw.

“Fine.” My voice is cold as I look up into his eyes. “Metrix it is. Ryan?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Ryan answers over Connor’s shoulder.

Still looking into Connor’s eyes, I say, “Will you please accompany me to my hotel?”

Ryan drawls, “Be happy to, Tabby.”

Connor’s face darkens. There’s murder in his eyes.

Unintimidated, I stare up at him. “Move.”

“If you think you’re going anywhere without me,” he says, deadly soft, “you’re mistaken.”

Ryan ambles over, slings an arm around my shoulders, and grins down at me. “Looks like it’s a threesome, then.” He winks. “Lucky girl.”

I know Ryan notices the way Connor’s nostrils flare, the way his lips flatten, the way his body, invaded with a sudden tension, falls perfectly still. I know because as Ryan leads me away toward the door, he leans down and murmurs into my ear, “He didn’t tell me shit about what’s goin’ on between the two of you, Tabby, but I’ll tell you one thing. I’ve never seen him like this. Not over a woman, not over anything. The rest of the boys at Metrix call him ‘Teflon,’ because nothin’ ever sticks. So here’s somethin’ for you to think on. You f*ck with my boy, you’re f*ckin’ with me.”

When he pulls back, his smile is gone. His baby blues drill straight down into my soul. “And I’m no sexist. I’ll take you down even if you are a girl.”

Strangely, this little speech endears him to me. My spirits somewhat lightened, I nudge him in the ribs. “You could try, but big guys like you are always super slow.”

Unsure of what to make of my nonchalance, he cocks his head. “Is that a fact?”

I nod. “Glacially slow. On account of all that muscle mass. You’re too bulky. Now, me on the other hand—I’m ninja fast. Like lightning fast. Like”—I snap my fingers—“Shazam!”

Ryan’s trying hard to keep the stern look on his face, but I know that in spite of himself and the warning he just gave me, he’s inclined to like me.

What surprises me is that I’m inclined to like him too. And not because I dig his tattoos or his dimples or his disarming combination of sweet Southern drawl and gun-toting badassery.

I like him because he’s a good friend of Connor’s. Because he obviously has Connor’s back, and would do anything for him. Because somehow I’m living in an alternate universe where those things have become important benchmarks against which my opinion of people is measured.

Even if I despise him.

Which I do.

Which I keep telling myself as Ryan leads me out of the room while Connor follows behind us, burning holes in the back of my head with his eyes.



By the time we pull up in front of my hotel, I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve slept less than one hour in the last day. Everything is getting fuzzy around the edges.

When Connor opens my door—I’m in the back of Ryan’s rented Escalade because I refused to sit up front when Connor announced he was driving—I jump out and immediately stumble.