The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(67)

He kissed her briefly and started to stand, but she stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. “Riggs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I love you.”

God, he’d never get tired of hearing those words from her mouth. “I love you too,” he returned. “I’ll be right back.”

He wanted to reach over and give Baxter a pet but didn’t want to scare the mutt. So he stood and headed for where he’d left her phone. “You want caprese pasta for lunch?” he asked. “Tomatoes, pasta, and mozzarella cheese?”

“Sounds delicious, although I would’ve been fine with a PB&J,” she joked.

Five minutes later, as he was puttering around the kitchen, Chappy looked over and saw Carlise focused on her phone. Her hair was behind one ear, and she was absently petting Baxter with her free hand.

She filled up his home simply by existing. She occupied all the empty spaces in his heart in the same way. She might not know it, but Chappy’s new mission in life was to do everything in his power to make her happy.



Carlise’s stalker watched her mom with narrowed eyes. It would be so easy to sneak up behind her as she fumbled with the keys to her townhouse. So easy to push her inside and knock her down, tie her up. So easy to get her to admit where Carlise was.

The weak bitch wouldn’t last through two minutes of torture before she broke.

Before returning home, the old broad had pushed a grocery cart around the supermarket as if she didn’t have a care in the world. It was infuriating. Nearly rage-inducing. Because there was no fucking way she’d be so unconcerned, humming to herself in the damn produce section, if she didn’t know where Carlise was. She’d clearly been in contact with her daughter.

Well, one way to get Carlise back to Cleveland was for something awful to happen to her mother. If the dumb slut wouldn’t get her ass back here on her own, despite being warned time and time again, then drastic measures would have to be taken.

Either the old woman would spill the beans about where Carlise was hiding, or she’d suffer in her daughter’s place.

One way or another, Carlise was going to pay for being a complete and utter bitch.





Chapter Thirteen


“I’m going out to chop some more firewood while you talk to your mom and Susie,” Riggs said as he headed toward the door. He stopped to put on his boots and jacket.

“I don’t want to kick you out of the house. It’s okay if you stay while I talk to them,” Carlise said with a frown.

“It’s fine. I want you to be able to say whatever you need or want to without worrying about me overhearing.”

She’d read her mom’s messages, then the emails from her clients but hadn’t gotten to Susie’s before Riggs served lunch. Afterward, he’d suggested she call her loved ones with his satellite phone to reassure them that she was okay. Perhaps tell them to be extra careful until they could get to Newton and talk with Chief Rutkey about the situation.

“Overhearing what? I have no secrets from you, Riggs,” she told him.

He winked, and Carlise almost swooned right then and there at the sexy move.

“Oh, you know . . . how cute I am and how you can’t keep your hands off me.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Carlise still rolled her eyes. “I’m thinking it’s you who can’t keep your hands to yourself, mister.”

“True,” he said without any trace of embarrassment. He stalked toward her—that was the only word she could think of to explain the way he approached—and Carlise backed up until she was trapped against the counter.

Riggs’s hands went to her waist, and he yanked her against him.

She giggled and put her hands on his chest, giving him her weight without any concerns about his intentions. If Tommy had grabbed her so aggressively, she would’ve tried to get out of his hold.

“You, woman, are lethal. I swear, all I have to do is look at you and I want you. Again. I can’t get enough. But it’s not just about sex. It’s talking to you. Watching you work. Seeing you with Baxter and the trust he has for you. Listening to your laugh when I do something stupid. It’s everything.”

“You have it wrong, it’s you who’s dangerous. I had no idea I could be this . . . this fixated on sex.”

“As long as it’s only with me, I’m okay with that,” Riggs said with a smirk.

“Oh, there’s no doubt. You’re the only man I want, Riggs,” Carlise told him seriously.

“Good. Now kiss me before I go out and get all hot and sweaty. And probably sore. I’m sure I’ll need a massage when I get back inside.”

“Right. Of course you will. But only after a shower,” she teased.

Riggs grinned, then his head was dropping. Carlise went up on tiptoes to meet him halfway. She’d wanted to kiss him again ever since the last time, just before eating lunch, when he’d swung her around and planted one on her eager lips.

The kiss immediately turned carnal. By the time he pulled away, her shirt was askew, his jacket had been unzipped, and one of her hands was under his shirt on his bare skin. The other was in his hair, which stuck up in all directions from her clenching and pulling.

“Lethal,” he muttered before kissing her hard once more. Then he pulled back, straightened her shirt, and zipped his coat.