Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(30)

“I’ve dealt with assholes before. No problem,” she said, forcing herself not to look over at Felton. “My report pretty much covers everything, including a psychological profile of the person you should really concentrate on finding. The real assassin is still out there.”

“The real assassin is just where we want him. Behind bars,” Felton snapped, tossing her report to the other side of the table. “We got our man.”

Randi forced a smile. “In that case, my services here are no longer needed. Good day, everyone.”

She walked out the door, thinking that when the shit hit the fan like she knew it would when the real killer resurfaced, at least she would be on a much-deserved vacation.

Glendale Shores was an island owned by her family that was the most beautiful of the Sea Islands off the South Carolina coast. And she couldn’t wait to get there.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I THOUGHT YOU only came here for thread.”

Margo suddenly felt heat on her neck, and she knew why. Striker was breathing down it. She wished he would back up a little and not stand so close. However, even when she turned around, he made no move to do so. He was determined to stick to her like glue. “Yes, that was my original plan, but I saw other things I needed.”

He glanced around, the way she’d seen him do several times since they’d set foot inside Sandy Lee Craft Shop. There wasn’t a single person who those sinfully dark eyes hadn’t sized up, analyzed and scrutinized.

“At least I’m in the checkout line.”

“Lucky me,” he said sarcastically.

“You really are. I’ve never come here and been out in less than an hour. I could spend all day in here.”

He peered down at her, seemingly bewildered. “Why?”

“Look around. What do you see?”

“Stuff. Too much stuff. All over the place.”

Margo couldn’t help but grin. She’d gotten practically the same response from her uncle when she’d talked him into coming here with her one day. It had been the first and last time he’d done so.

After the cashier rang up her purchases and Margo paid for them, Striker walked her to the car. Like in the store, he studied their surroundings and stuck close to her. Too close for comfort, as far as she was concerned.

He’d told her that her uncle had decided to keep Striker on as her protector for another week. If no additional killings occurred, they would assume the right man was behind bars. She certainly hoped so.

“Can we go someplace for lunch?” she asked him.

Striker shook his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. “No. Quasar is bringing us lunch.”

“He wouldn’t have to if we stopped and grabbed something.”

“No.”

“Why are you being difficult, Striker? What happened to you agreeing to be more flexible? Bend a little?”

“I did bend. You got a trip to that craft store, didn’t you? Don’t push your luck with me, Margo.”

On some days she could ignore his attitude. Today was not going to be one of them. This was her first time out in a week, and she was in no hurry to go back home. “I have a taste for a hamburger.”

“No problem. I’ll have Quasar bring us one.”

“There’s a hamburger place ahead on the right. What harm would it be to stop?”

“I could be placing you in danger. For some reason, you refuse to accept that you still might be.”

How could she not accept it when he was with her practically 24/7? Striker’s presence was a constant reminder of how her peace of mind had been stolen the moment Erickson made his threat at the trial. If at any time she was tempted to downplay the danger, all she had to do was remember those five innocent people whose lives had been taken away from them.

She looked back over at him. “But you will admit they might have the right guy since there haven’t been any more killings?”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Margo. The real assassin could be in hiding somewhere.”

“Until when?”

“Who knows? Personally, I think he’s waiting for the best time to hit again. I’m sure the feds are trying to figure out what orders Erickson gave the assassin. I understand Erickson isn’t talking and the man they arrested is claiming his innocence. Erickson sees this as nothing more than a game to show he’s still in control. People’s lives mean nothing to him.”

“That much was proved during his trial, which is why he got the sentence he did.” Moments later Margo was surprised when Striker pulled the car into the parking lot of the hamburger place she’d told him about. He proceeded to the drive-through lane. She smiled. For the second time that day he had been flexible. Grudgingly or otherwise. “Thanks, Striker. They have the best burgers.”

“So you say.”

*

STRIKER WONDERED IF he needed to have his head examined for giving in to Margo’s request. His only saving grace was that she’d been right. This was the best burger he’d ever eaten. He’d decided to park so they could eat in the car. They were in a good area, and he had a clear view of their surroundings.

Still, sitting here in a parked car with her felt too personal and intimate. Like they were on a date or something, when that definitely was not the case. Hadn’t he given himself a get-real talk this morning that he and Margo would never date? So why was he thinking such things?