Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(50)

Blood rushed like crazy through Striker’s entire body and then settled in his groin. He didn’t blink. Could barely breathe. He stood there, unable to move. The only thing moving was his erection. It was expanding like nobody’s business. Oh, shit. Where was his willpower when he needed it most?

He needed to fight his desire. He had to. But, dammit, the thought of a naked Margo in the shower waiting on him was too much. And she wanted to taste him all over...

He drew in a sharp breath, grabbed a towel and walked toward his bathroom. Inside, he glanced at himself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was of a man who’d made love to a woman last night and who still wanted more. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could inhale her scent, probably because it was still on him. He’d brushed his teeth yet he could still taste her on his tongue. And it was a tongue that wanted to taste her again.

Crap! He turned and, before he could talk himself out of what he was doing, called Quasar.

“What’s up, Striker?”

“Make that two hours on breakfast.”

Not waiting to hear what Quasar had to say, he clicked off the phone. Grabbing a couple of condoms, he headed straight for Margo.

*

STONEWALL HAD PICKED UP his coffee cup to take another sip when his office door opened and Roland walked in. Stonewall’s eyes widened and he stood. “What the hell are you doing here instead of recuperating somewhere?”

Roland waved off his words as he settled in the chair across from the huge desk. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and he said I’m fine.”

Stonewall frowned. “But I bet he didn’t say you could return to work yet.”

Roland leaned comfortably back in the chair. “And I haven’t returned. Just dropped by to check on things.”

Stonewall nodded, knowing it was more than that. “We’ve been busy. Everyone wants protection, even people who weren’t anywhere near the courthouse that day. Craziness happening.”

Roland nodded. “How’s Striker?”

“Fine,” Stonewall said, sitting back down. There was no way he would tell Roland what he and Quasar suspected about how Striker was really doing. So he asked, “How did you get off Sutton Hills without Carson’s approval?” After Carson helped clear Roland’s name, Roland and Carson had remained good friends, and when Carson married Sheppard Granger last year, Roland was pretty much adopted into the Granger family like the rest of them.

“Wasn’t easy,” Roland replied. “Carson drove me in to the doctors and Shep followed. I suspected the doctor would give me back driving rights and I would need my car.”

“And I’m sure the doctor expected you to leave his office and go straight home, Roland.”

“This is home for me, Stonewall.”

Stonewall knew that to be true. Roland pretty much stayed here 24/7, even though he had an apartment a few miles away. Roland had a room with a cot for any of his men who needed power naps between jobs, and all of them were well aware that Roland used it as much as they did.

“You don’t think I can handle things here?” Stonewall asked.

Roland chuckled. “You know that’s the last thing I think. I trained you all well. It’s just that I was wondering how Striker was doing with Margo.”

“You could have picked up a phone and called to ask, Roland. Need I remind you that you took a bullet less than a month ago?”

“No, you don’t have to remind me.”

“The police still haven’t caught the dude who tried to hijack your car?” Stonewall asked.

“No, and with so much other stuff on their plates, they aren’t looking. They have a much bigger fish to catch.”

At that moment Quasar stuck his head in the door. “I’m about to leave to—”

When he saw Roland, Quasar frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting.”

“Well, visit somewhere else. Shouldn’t you be home recuperating?” Quasar asked him.

“I am home.”

Quasar’s frown deepened. “You know what I mean. You’re supposed to be at Sutton Hills, where Hannah can keep an eye on you.” Hannah was the Grangers’ housekeeper and cook.

Roland laughed. “Hannah wants to fatten me up. She’s always cooking. A man can get spoiled.”

“Then go back and let her spoil you. We got things here,” Quasar said.

“I can see that. So where are you headed?”

Quasar came into the room and shoved his hands into his pockets. “To deliver breakfast to Striker and Ms. Connelly.”

Roland checked his watch. “Kind of late for breakfast, isn’t it?”

Quasar tried keeping a straight face as he shrugged and lied through his teeth. “I was running late. They understood and said they weren’t all that hungry.” He decided not to glance over at Stonewall, who’d probably figured out why he’d fibbed.

Roland stood. “I’ll follow you over there.”

“Over where?”

“To take Striker and Margo their breakfast.”

Now Quasar did give Stonewall a look that clearly said, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He knew Stonewall understood when Stonewall said to Roland, “You don’t need to follow anyone anywhere. I think you should go back to Sutton Hills and get some rest.”