Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(41)

“You just won’t forgive me for what I did, will you, Margo?”

Now, that piqued Striker’s interest. What had he done? Whatever the deed, it was obvious from the daggers Margo was shooting over at Striker that she didn’t want him to know. Too bad. There was no way he would release the call now.

“I don’t want to discuss it,” Margo snapped at Dylan. “Stop talking about it, will you?”

Probably because she doesn’t want me to hear it, Striker thought.

Too bad Dylan didn’t do as she asked. “I was wrong for getting that guy to scare you like that. I hoped you would get rattled enough to move in with me. He was just supposed to make you afraid of living there alone. How was I to know he would take it to that level?”

WTF? Striker straightened from leaning against the desk. What exactly had the man done to scare her?

He glanced back at Margo, and she deliberately looked away. “Look, Scott, I have to go.”

“Why? And who’s there with you? Why won’t you tell me?”

Striker couldn’t hold his anger anymore. “Because she doesn’t want to tell you, so fuck off.”

There was silence on the other end, and then in an incensed voice Dylan asked, “Who the hell are you?”

“If Margo wanted you to know, she would have told you. Now, don’t call back disturbing us tonight or any other night. Forget you have this number.”

Striker clicked off his phone and then, to make sure Margo didn’t say anything else to the man, used his phone to remotely end her call to Dylan as well.

She stood there, glaring at him, obviously furious. “You had no right to say anything.”

Maybe not, but he would deal with the consequences later. What he wanted now were answers. “Just what in the hell did that person Dylan hired do?”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MARGO CROSSED HER arms over her chest, angry with Scott for talking too much and totally upset with Striker for having the audacity to listen. How dare he invade her privacy like that? Did he think those kisses they’d shared had given him some rights? Well, she had news for him. No man had rights where she was concerned. “I’m not telling you anything, Striker. You had no right to—”

“At the moment I don’t give a damn about any rights,” he snapped. “What did he do? You either tell me or I’ll report him to Roland and let him explain that bit of information to your uncle.”

She dropped her hands. “That call has nothing to do with the reason you’re protecting me.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Frazier would love to know what Dylan did to you. Once your uncle finds out, I doubt he’ll last in that cushy, six-figure-salary job that he thinks so much of.”

“What Scott did is not my uncle’s business. Nor is it yours. I handled it.”

“How? By running back here to Charlottesville?”

Margo crossed her arms over her chest again, livid. “That is not why I moved home.”

“Then why did you? Can you explain that?”

“I don’t have to explain anything.”

Striker was about to tell her just how wrong she was about that when his phone went off. He recognized the ringtone. For Stonewall to call this time of night meant something was up. “What’s going on?”

“The lights are still on there. Why haven’t you and Margo gone to bed?”

“Why are you interested?” Now was not the time for his friend to get nosy.

Stonewall laughed. “Quasar said he’s been picking up on a lot of sexual tension over there. If things are getting too hot for you, let me know and I’ll send in a replacement.”

Striker rolled his eyes. “You can kiss it, Stonewall. And tell Quasar to mind his own damn business.” He rubbed his face and saw Margo head toward the door, but he eased over to block her from leaving.

“I need to go upstairs, Striker,” Margo snapped.

“Not until I go up there with you. You know the rules, Margo.”

“Can the two of you argue some other time?” Stonewall cut in to say. “There’s a reason for my call.”

“You mean it wasn’t to harass me?”

“Not this time. Janice is working the monitors and noticed a car—black sedan—slowly driving by Ms. Connelly’s place twice tonight. At first we assumed it was an unmarked police car, but now we aren’t so sure. We’re waiting for someone from police headquarters to call us back.”

The hairs on the back of Striker’s neck stood up. “Call me if anyone sees that car again or if anything else looks suspicious.”

“Will do.”

Striker ended the call. He realized Margo was studying him. She hadn’t even pretended not to eavesdrop. “Now, Margo, where were we? Oh yeah, you were about to tell me just what that guy did to scare you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. He wished she wouldn’t do that. It placed too much damn emphasis on her breasts. And they were breasts he recalled his chest rubbing against whenever they kissed.

“What did Stonewall want? What’s going on?”

Leaning in the doorway, he placed his arms across his chest as well. “If you don’t answer my question, I won’t answer yours.”

She glared at him. “Play your games by yourself, Striker. Move out the way so I can go upstairs.”