His Fathers's Ring, His Son's Touch

ra'

face. My hands were still sticky with the iron-scented reality of what I had done. I

n stood under the flickering amber glow of a streetlamp. They wore long black coats, their posture rigid and

d turne

right before the bullets started flying. They were the ones who had been

ard, a sob catch

ead, I fell into a wall of solid, warm muscle. Strong arms wrapped around me, pull

deep voice rumble

urred by tears, and met t

s left dark, wet stains on the grey wool. "Save me. Please... jus

opened the door, tucked me inside, and climbed in beside me. As the car pulled away, I looked out the tinted window.

me to living room. He went to a sideboard, pour

he comman

c clattered against my teeth. The warmth of the liq

ed. He was leaning against a desk

at I was a target in Italy-he would throw me out. Or wo

ed, my voice small. "I think t

his silver eyes narrowing. "You're a

me?" I asked curious. "You seem to kno

ark in you that I find... intriguing. I can give you protection. M

owing. Belong to him? Was he try

. His voice was smooth, devoid of judgment. "You w

an't protect myself?" I a

an also clean up the mess at your office. The police will find no prints, no

fingers. I stood up, my eyes widenin

e there when it happened. I saw him touch you, and I saw you defe

trust this man. He had watched me kill someone and said nothing. He had let it hap

ack to your apartment, where those men are likely waiting?

he brass doorknob. He w

r three months

sical blow. I turned back

m, and my security. At the end of ninety days, we annul the marriage, I provide yo

son. Lucas had used me and then dumped me when things

I snapped, my pride fl

night and take my chances with the men in black,

fr

d still on the outer handle. Beside