Mine To Protect (Mine #6)(37)

Cain had to drag Victor off the smaller guy. Roy fell into a heap on the floor.

“She matters,” Victor spat the words again, then he spun to face Zoe.

She stared at him a moment, seeing his rage. Such a hot, hard fury. His whole body was tense and danger emanated from him on waves. This wasn’t some good guy. The controlled agent she knew was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn’t afraid. Not of him.

Zoe lifted her bound hands toward him. “Victor, get me out of here.”

He strode toward her. Yanked at the rope that bound her hands. Jerked it hard.

Uniformed cops spilled into the little room. One of them cuffed Roy. Another handed Victor a knife. He sliced through the ropes that bound her wrists. Pinpricks shot through her fingers. She hadn’t even realized how tight the ropes were, not until then. Victor bent, then cut through the ropes that bound her feet. When the last rope broke, relief swept through her and she trembled.

Victor picked her up in his arms.

“No! I can walk!” Her tremble hadn’t been about weakness. It had just been about her being grateful to be free.

But Victor didn’t let her go. His hold tightened as he carried her out of that motel room. She looked back and saw a bruised and battered Roy—glaring after them. Glaring with the one eye that wasn’t already swollen shut. Cain was reading the guy his rights, appearing absolutely enraged and disgusted, but still doing things by-the-book.

The sunlight was too bright outside. The air too cold.

Victor walked her toward a dark SUV. He opened the passenger side door and eased her inside. Then he just…stood there, his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.

Hesitantly, her hand rose and touched his chest. “Victor?”

“I thought you were dead.” His voice was different. Colder. Raspier. “When I woke up, and the building was on fire and you weren’t there…I thought you were dead.”

“I was afraid you were dying in there,” she whispered back. “I tried to get you out. I’m so sorry…”

His head snapped up. “You’re sorry?”

Zoe nodded.

“You’re sorry?”

Once more, slowly, she nodded. “I wanted to get you out. If he hadn’t hit me with the gun, I would have—”

Victor backed away. He slammed the door shut. Paced. Paced some more. Tossed a glare her way.

Her hands twisted together. She rubbed at her bruised wrists.

Then he was marching around the SUV. Jumping inside the vehicle. He cranked it with a hard, angry twist of his hand. But then he stilled. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Zoe watched him.

“I let you down. I was supposed to keep you safe. Instead, I lost you.”

“Victor…”

His head turned toward her, and the shield that was normally in place—the guard that stopped her from reading the emotions in his eyes—it was gone. Fury and pain and longing blazed at her. “I was scared.”

“Me, too.”

“I don’t get scared. I get pissed. That’s my way. But it was different with you. You’re different. You made me different.”

Was that good or bad? He made it sound bad.

“I couldn’t find you fast enough. Couldn’t get to you soon enough. And when I saw Roy…” He flexed his hands. “I wanted to rip him apart.”

She reached out and touched his right hand. Her fingers slid across the faint scars on his knuckles. “I’m okay.”

“This time. But what about next time? It has to stop.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “It has to f*cking stop.” Then he shifted the vehicle and drove out of that lot with a squeal of tires.





Chapter Eleven


She’s not dead. She’s safe. Zoe’s with me.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. Victor made sure that he stepped out first. They were back in Drake’s hotel, back on what should have been a secure floor, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

The area was empty, so he caught Zoe’s hand and led her forward. She’d been silent during their trek back to the fancy hotel, a trek that had included a pit stop at the hospital so she could be checked out.

She’d glared during that process, muttering about just having bruises, but he’d wanted to be absolutely certain she was okay.

A concussion. The bastard gave her a concussion. And she’s got black bands of bruises around her wrists and ankles.

Victor unlocked the door. He just wanted to get her inside and pull her into his arms. And what was up with that? He was hardly the coddling type.

He opened the suite door and ushered her inside.

“Slipping out at night, coming in long past dawn…This is hardly the way to keep a low profile…” At that low, mocking voice, Victor’s body immediately went into battle mode. He pushed Zoe behind him and had his gun out in two seconds.

Drake raised his brows as he sat on the couch, not looking properly intimated. Did the guy just always get guns aimed at him? Was that why he was acting as if nothing new were happening at that moment?

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Victor demanded.

“It’s my hotel.” Drake kept lounging. “When you didn’t answer the door, I got worried. Let myself in. You know, with the master key I have and all that.”