Chapter 9
NINE
BANKS
Two hours.
It’s been exactly two hours since I kissed Anniston Wells, and I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I stand at the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so hard the wood creaks under my fingers.
The laptop screen in front of me has gone blurry three times now because my brain keeps drifting back to that moment on the rug.
Her soft mouth opening under mine. The little sigh she made when I slid my tongue against hers.
The way her body melted into me like she’d been waiting for it just as badly as I had.
I’ve replayed it so many times I could write the script from memory.
And that’s only the beginning.
In the last two hours I’ve imagined peeling that thin tank top off her.
I’ve pictured laying her down on this couch and tasting every inch of her skin until she’s gasping my name.
I’ve thought about bending her over the kitchen counter, about her riding me slow in the bed, about pinning her wrists above her head while I drive into her until neither of us can think straight.
A million filthy, detailed fantasies, each one worse than the last. Each one making it harder to remember why I shouldn’t have her.
Because she’s the principal. Because my brothers are still out there. Because Nash and Sin are missing and Dad is gone and this isn’t the time to get distracted by a flirty blonde who looks at me like I hung the moon.
I’m supposed to be her protector. Not the man who can’t stop thinking about making her come.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I drag a hand down my face and force my attention back to the laptop. The files from her USB are spread across three different windows. I have been cross-referencing names for the last hour, and one keeps popping up brighter than the rest.
Wyatt Rivers.
Former mid-level analyst at Meridian Financial.
Fired three weeks ago. Large unexplained deposit hit his account forty-eight hours after termination.
Enough money to suggest either a golden parachute or a very expensive payoff.
His name appears in three separate transaction notes tied to the same D.C.
consultancy network we’ve been chasing. He might have answers. Or at least pieces.
It’s a lead worth checking. In person.
I glance over at Anniston. She’s curled up on the couch with one of the paperbacks from the cabin shelf, knees tucked under her, blonde hair falling messily over one shoulder.
She looks soft and focused and far too beautiful for this safe house.
Every few minutes she shifts, and the hem of her tank top rides up just enough to show a sliver of skin. My jaw tightens.
She catches me staring and smiles, bright and flirty like she can’t help it. "You keep looking at me like that and I'm going to think you want round two, Banks Hawthorne."
My cock twitches hard. I turn back to the screen before she can see what her words do to me. "We need to talk."
She sets the book down and sits up straighter. "That sounds serious. Should I be worried?"
I walk over and lean against the arm of the couch, keeping some distance between us.
If I get too close right now I won’t be responsible for what happens.
"I found something in the files. A name. Wyatt Rivers. He worked at Meridian. Do you know him? Got fired recently and received a big payout right after. His information matches patterns we’ve seen with the consultancy. I want to question him."
Anniston's eyes widen. "Wyatt Rivers? I didn’t know him, but I remember that name. It was in one of the email chains. Something about him asking too many questions before they let him go. You think he knows something useful?"
"I think he’s either scared or bought off. Either way, he might talk if I press him the right way." I cross my arms. "His last known address is in Halo City. Edge of the financial district. Not the safest area, but doable."
She stands up quickly, excitement lighting up her face. "When do we leave? I can be ready in ten minutes."
I shake my head. "You’re not coming."
Her hands go to her hips, and damn if that stubborn little stance doesn’t make her even more attractive. "Excuse me? This is my USB. My research. My life on the line. If this guy has answers about why people are trying to kill me, I deserve to be there."
I rub the back of my neck, weighing the options like I’ve been doing for the last twenty minutes.
Leaving her here alone is risky. The cabin’s secure, but nothing is one hundred percent.
If someone finds it while I’m gone, she’d be defenseless.
Bringing her means I can keep her in my sight the entire time.
It also means more time trapped in a vehicle with her flirty mouth and those legs that I can’t stop imagining wrapped around me.
I hate how badly I want her here. I hate how much I don’t want to let her out of my reach.
"Fine," I say, voice gruff. "You can come. But you stay in the truck unless I say otherwise. You follow my orders without argument. And if anything feels off, we abort immediately. Understood?"
She gives me a cheeky salute that makes me want to kiss the smirk right off her face. "Yes, sir."
I narrow my eyes. "This isn’t a game, Anniston."
"I know." Her expression softens just a fraction. "But sitting here doing nothing is making me crazy. I need to feel like I'm doing something. Plus..." She steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint vanilla scent of her skin. "I kind of like having you watch my back. You're very good at it."
My hands itch to pull her against me. I shove them into my pockets instead. "We leave at first light. Get some rest tonight. I mean it."
She nods, but there’s a playful glint in her green eyes that tells me rest is the last thing on her mind. She walks back to the couch and picks up her book again, but I can feel her watching me as I return to the table.
I sit down and try to focus on the maps and exit routes I’ll need for tomorrow. It’s useless. All I can think about is the way she tasted. The little sound she made when I deepened the kiss. How perfectly she fit against me.
Two hours.
It’s been two hours since I crossed that line, and I’m already wondering how the hell I’m going to make it through the night without crossing it again.
The sun’s starting to dip lower outside the windows, painting the cabin in warm orange light. Anniston flips a page in her book, legs stretched out along the couch, completely unaware of the war going on inside my head. Or maybe she’s completely aware and enjoying it. With her, it’s hard to tell.
I force my eyes back to the screen. Wyatt Rivers. Address. Possible connections. I make notes, plan the approach, run background checks through the encrypted channels Vance gave me. Anything to keep my mind off the woman ten feet away who’s slowly destroying my self-control.
She hums softly to herself while she reads. The sound is light and absentminded and it goes straight to my chest. Then lower.
I’m in so much fucking trouble.
Tomorrow we drive into Halo City. Tomorrow I question a man who might hold real answers about the people hunting her. Tomorrow I keep her safe while fighting the urge to touch her again.
But tonight? Tonight I have to survive twelve more hours of her smiles and her flirty comments and the memory of that kiss playing on repeat in my head.
I glance over at her one more time. She looks up and catches my eye, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
God help me.
"What will we do until morning?" she asks, voice sweet and dangerous all at once.