Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A s Cam led Saskia into the Norcross Security office, she tried to ignore her throbbing face and sore knee.
She’d twisted wrong, and it was her bad knee. Worry niggled at her. A knee injury had ended the career of many a dancer. Still, it was nowhere near as bad as poor Savannah.
Rhys had called from the hospital. Savannah had a fractured wrist. Saskia’s gut clenched, and she felt sick. Her friend had been hurt because of her. Savannah was an artist, she needed her hands.
Who else would get hurt because of Saskia?
She glanced at Cam and swallowed. He’d made it clear he couldn’t be with her, and here he was, dragged back into her mess.
They headed up the stairs. At the top, lost in her thoughts, she barely took in the kickass industrial vibe of the warehouse office.
She felt too sick.
She needed to go. She knew enough to disappear and lay low. Then Killian would help her.
“Saskia? Hey .” Cam was frowning at her. He touched her cheek.
She jerked back.
His green eyes darkened, and his frown deepened.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just…thinking.”
“About what?”
“Everything.” She turned away. She needed time to make a plan, then she’d slip away.
“Saskia.” He gripped her arm. “You’re safe now. You don’t need to worry.”
“Cam, Savannah has a broken wrist. Mikhailov isn’t going to stop, is he? It’s not safe to be around me.”
That rugged face changed. His scar stood out on his cheek. “I’m going to make him stop.”
“Cam, you don’t have to do this.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He took her hand, then dragged her past several glass-walled offices.
She saw Saxon in one, on the phone. Rome in another, sitting at the desk, staring at his computer screen.
Cam towed her into a room that contained a bunk and shelving full of medical supplies. He closed the door.
“Sit,” he ordered, opening a small fridge.
Saskia sat. All the nice, new clothes she’d bought were gone. She sighed.
Cam brought an ice pack over and pressed it to the side of her face.
“It doesn’t feel too bad,” she said quietly.
“Does anything else hurt?”
She hesitated. He’d already done so much. “It’s fine, Cam. Go. Do whatever you need to do.”
He pressed his hands either side of her hips on the bunk. He leaned close, his face right at hers. The look in his eyes made her belly clench.
“Things have changed. I’m keeping you safe, and that’s not up for negotiation.”
Her heart thumped. All she could do was nod.
For now. She was still going to go. She’d call Wolf and arrange something.
“Now, what else hurts?” Cam demanded.
“My knee. It needs ice, too.”
“Okay, boots and jeans off, sweetheart.”
God, she loved hearing the sweet endearment in that deep, gruff voice.
While he got another ice pack, she pulled her boots off and her small socks.
She winced. She hated a guy seeing her feet.
Ballet dancers did not have pretty feet.
Hers were covered in calluses and healing blisters.
She shucked her jeans off and sat on the bunk.
Her knee was a little swollen, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.
But she was going to have to face the fact soon that her bum knee was going to cause problems with her dancing. She bit her lip. One problem at a time, Saskia.
Cam came back and knelt in front of her. She felt a flush of heat in her face since she was only in panties and her sweater.
He’s seen it, Saskia.
He pressed the ice pack to her knee. She pulled in a breath at the cold, while still holding the other one to her face.
His fingers touched her skin, and she fought back a shiver.
His brow creased. “Did you hurt your feet?” He touched her ankle.
“No. Don’t look.” She tried to pull her foot away.
He gripped her ankle tightly and touched her toes.
“The downside of years of pointe shoes,” she said. “Ugly feet.”
“They’re not ugly.” He met her gaze. “They’re a sign of your strength and dedication.”
She blushed. And wished, yet again, that she could have this man.
There was a knock on the door. Cam straightened and Vander strode in.
“Doing all right, Saskia?”
She nodded, trying not to care about the fact that she was in her panties. “Thanks to you guys.” Then her gaze dropped to the department store bags in Vander’s hands. “My shopping!”
Vander dumped the bags on the floor. “I think we recovered most of it.”
“Mikhailov’s guy?” Cam asked.
“In a holding cell. We’re planning to ask him a few questions.”
“I want in on that.”
Cam’s dark tone made Saskia shiver. And worry.
“Figured you would,” Vander replied.
Cam swiveled. He touched her injured cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon. If you need a drink, the kitchen is stocked.”
She nodded.
“I’ll be back,” he said again.
“Okay.” He’d be back because he saw her as an obligation. “I’ll take it easy until then.”
She watched him stride out with Vander.
Saskia let out a shuddering breath. Once the ice packs turned warm, she redressed. She wondered if Mikhailov’s goon had anything useful to share. She chewed on her lip.
She’d taken up enough of Camden’s time and energy. Killian and the Sentinel Security team could keep her safe until Mikhailov lost interest.
She decided to leave the shopping bags. She’d get them later.
She threw her scarf over her shoulder and exited the medical room. No one looked her way. The other Norcross employees were all busy at their desks.
She hurried toward the front of the building. She’d check that the street was clear, then head out, find somewhere safe where she could borrow a phone and call Sentinel.
“Saskia?”
She looked up. A couple had just entered the building. The beautiful blonde woman wore a fitted gray dress. Her hair was in an elegant twist, and there was concern on her face.
“Harlow,” Saskia said.
She’d met the woman at Savannah’s art show. A man appeared behind her.
He was handsome with a rugged, “in charge” edge. He was wearing a tailored Brioni suit. Easton Norcross was Vander’s older brother and Harlow’s fiancé.
Harlow touched Saskia’s arm. “We heard what happened. It’s so terrible. How are you holding up?”
“I’m good, thanks. Still wrapping my head around it all.”
“I can only imagine.” Harlow pulled Saskia in for a hug.
It felt nice. Harlow’s sweet perfume was comforting.
“Thanks. Are you here to see Vander? I think he’s—” she swallowed “—downstairs questioning a guy.”
“We’ll find him.” Easton nodded, watching her with sharp blue eyes that saw too much. “You’re going to be fine. No one here will let anything happen to you.”
“I know. Thanks, Easton. It’s good to see you both.”
She waited until the couple headed off, and then walked toward the front door. She willed herself to walk slowly and stay calm. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She wasn’t a prisoner and she could leave whenever she wanted.
She stared out the glass panel beside the door, scanning the street.
There were a few people on the sidewalk, cars driving past. She took her time to look for anyone who didn’t belong.
She hesitated. This was best for everyone. She pushed the door open. She’d taken two steps outside when—
“Going somewhere?”
Her head whipped around, and she looked into Cam’s very angry green eyes.
* * *
Cam tried to get a lock on his anger. He gripped Saskia’s arm and pulled her back inside. Her eyes were huge as she stared at him.
Once safely in the entry, he whirled to face her.
“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was a low roar.
She swallowed. “Easton ratted me out, didn’t he?”
“I was on my way back to find you. He said you were up here and looked cagey.” Cam cocked his head. “Do you want Mikhailov to snatch you?”
“No, of course not—”
“Then explain this to me, Saskia.” He tried to keep his voice down, but it came out a snarl.
Her head snapped up, her pretty, brown eyes churning.
“You’ve done enough! I dragged you into this mess.
Now, Savannah is hurt, and you could be next, and you’ve just recovered from your own injuries.
” She closed the gap between them and stabbed a finger in his chest. “So, I’m doing this for you.
I know that you don’t want me around, that it’s difficult—”
Fuck . He was an idiot. He’d been trying to protect her, but really he’d been trying to protect himself. He’d made this beautiful woman think he didn’t want her.
He stepped toward her, then kept moving.
Her eyes widened, and she backed up. “Cam—”
He kept going until her back hit the wall. He slid an arm around her, and heard her gasp. She gripped his shoulders.
“I want you so much it’s tearing me apart,” he said.
Her lips parted, shock on her face.
“I dream about you. I think about you all the time. I want to hear your voice, your laugh. I want to touch your soft skin…”
“ Cam ,” she whispered.
“I’ve been so caught up in my own head, worried I couldn’t give you what you deserve.
Then today, seeing that asshole trying to drag you off the street—” Fury rose, hot and churning.
He didn’t have to go far to tap into it.
“I knew I had to keep you safe. No more walls, no more distance. You’re mine to protect. Mine to touch. Mine .”
Her chest was rising and falling fast.
“I gave you a chance to go, but you didn’t take it.”
“I didn’t want it,” she said.
“So now you’re mine,” he repeated.
“So…there’s an us?” Her voice was cautious.
“There is now.” He kissed her.
The kiss was a claiming. He pushed her harder against the wall, lifting her off her feet. She clung to him, her tongue stroking against his.
Cam felt heat and need, all mixed up with other emotions he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe ever.
She pressed harder against him, never once letting up on the kiss. His gorgeous dancer wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Then he heard a low, amused sound behind him.
“Cam?” Vander’s voice broke the spell.
Cam set Saskia down. She took a second to find her balance. She licked her lips, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.
Damn, she was killing him.
“We clear?” he asked her.
“I think so.”
He’d make everything crystal-clear to her later.
Cam was all-in. Damn the consequences. He turned. Vander stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You tell her what you got from Mikhailov’s man?”
“Not yet,” Cam said.
Vander’s amusement increased. “I see you were busy with other things.”
Saskia straightened. “You questioned the man. What did he say?”
“Not much at first,” Vander said. “Cam…persuaded him to share.”
Her gaze whipped back to Cam, then dropped. She grabbed his right hand.
“Saskia—”
She took in his torn knuckles and gasped.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
She gently stroked his fingers. There was no horror on her face, and his tense muscles relaxed.
“It’s not nothing to me. So, did you learn anything?”
She was so tough under the delicate, slender frame. He nodded.
“Let’s go into Ace’s office,” Vander suggested.
“How are Ace and Maggie?” Saskia asked.
“Baby Isabel is good at making herself heard,” Vander said. “They’re tired, but happy.”
Cam steered Saskia into a chair, then leaned back against the desk, careful not to bump any of Ace’s computers. Even distracted by his new daughter, the tech guru would ream any of them for wrecking his stuff.
Saskia studied Cam’s face. He saw resignation fill her eyes.
“Whatever you got out of Mikhailov’s guy, it wasn’t good,” she whispered.
Cam knelt in front of her and took her hand in his. “Mikhailov is still in San Francisco. He hasn’t left.”
She licked her lips. “He’s still after me.” Her tone was dull.
Cam squeezed her fingers. “He’s not getting you, sweetheart. I promise you that.”
Her gaze met his and she nodded. “Will you promise me that you won’t get hurt?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “Cam—”
“I’d take a bullet for you. I’d take a knife for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Her fingers convulsed on his.
“When you dance, you bring emotion to life and bring beauty into the world. That’s your gift. Mine’s to fight, to kill, to protect.”
“You’ve never seen me dance.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t tell her that he’d downloaded recordings of as many of her various performances as he could find. He’d never been a guy to watch ballet, but he’d spent hours watching her dance.
“Did the guy say where Mikhailov is?” she asked.
“They were holed up at the Hilton in the city,” Cam said.
“I sent Saxon and Siv over,” Vander said. “Mikhailov was long gone.”
“They’re moving around,” Cam said. “Thanks to the feds, Mikhailov doesn’t have full access to his money, but he still has enough.” Cam was quiet for a second. “He’s obsessed with you, and now he also blames you for the situation he’s in.”
Her eyes popped wide. “You’re joking! He abducts me , imprisons me , and I’m not the first he’s done this to. Then when I escape, it’s my fault that his criminal shenanigans are crumbling around his ears? Unbelievable.”
Despite Cam’s anger and a healthy dose of fear for this woman’s safety, he felt the urge to smile.
“Mikhailov is old-school,” Vander said. “He’s had power, money, and influence for a long time, thanks to being a crony of the higher-ups in the Russian government. He believes in revenge and saving face.”
Saskia crossed her arms. “Sounds like a big baby throwing a tantrum to me. He’s a man. He should take responsibility for his own actions.”
Cam liked her sass, and knew it was hiding her fear.
He cupped her cheek. “We’ll find him. Ace’s team and Hex are helping.”
Saskia nodded tightly.
“I’ll have Rome escort you both to Cam’s place,” Vander said. “We’ll be adding extra security. For now, get her safe and rest.”