12
LUCIA
Glowing orange embers pop loudly inside the massive stone fireplace.
The thick fur of the bearskin rug scratches softly against my bare thighs. The cabin smells of burning pine, gun oil, and the heavy, baked leather musk of the man who just claimed me. My body hums with a visceral, beautiful ache. My core throbs, physically marked by the massive, punishing heat of the beast currently sitting three feet away. Rafe’s oversized dark t-shirt swallows my torso, the hem hitting mid-thigh and leaving my legs bare to the fire’s heat. I am fully dressed, yet I feel irreversibly stripped bare. The heavy, rigid Costa armor is gone.
My right hand flies to my chest. The black lace bra sits discarded on the wooden floorboards. The hard metal edge of the stolen USB drive is missing from my sternum.
Panic hits hard. My heart hammers a frantic, terrifying rhythm against my ribs.
I scan the dimly lit room. The amber firelight catches a tiny glint of metallic reflection in the deep shadows beneath the heavy wooden table.
The only leverage keeping me alive.
I lunge forward. My fingers stretch toward the dusty floorboards.
A massive, calloused hand clamps around my wrist before my skin even brushes the metal.
Rafe stops me cold. He pulls me to my feet, his other hand scooping the silver drive off the wood. The feral, worshipful lover from ten minutes ago is gone. Pure tactical calculation replaces the golden heat in his eyes as he holds the drive between us. He stares down at me like a trained killer assessing a potential threat.
“What exactly is that, Firebird?” His gravelly voice demands truth. “What did you smuggle out of Dominic’s compound in your underwear?”
The air stalls in my lungs.
Formulating a believable lie requires every ounce of Costa training I have. My brain scrambles to build the deceptive mask. Telling him the truth exposes my ultimate treason. It exposes the depths of my brother’s criminal empire.
Heavy, aggressive tires crush the loose gravel of the driveway outside.
The sound halts the interrogation. Rafe shoves the silver drive hard into my palm, folding my trembling fingers closed over the metal. “Hide it,” he growls, releasing my wrist. He spinstoward the dark windows, his hand dropping to the combat knife strapped to his thigh.
Blinding white headlights slash through the dark glass of the cabin windows.
The heavy wooden front door swings open. A brutal blast of freezing mountain wind hits the warm cabin air.
Jude fills the entire doorframe. His massive, armored frame blocks out the night, but he steps aside to let Rosa hurry into the warmth.
The nanny looks terrified, her knuckles white as she grips her small canvas bag, but she’s unharmed.
Jude ignores her, his focus fixed solely on me as he steps over the threshold. He kicks the heavy wooden door shut behind him with the heel of his combat boot, holding a thick, grey wool blanket against his chest.
Tucked inside the heavy fabric is Tyra. She is unharmed. She is deeply, peacefully asleep.
The feral lover vanishes from my mind. The deceptive cartel sister burns away into nothing.
The mother takes over.
My bare feet hit the floorboards. I cross the living room in two seconds flat.
Jude meets me halfway. The cold, surgical killer looks down at me. His dark eyes soften. He doesn’t speak. He simply lowers his massive arms and transfers my sleeping child into my embrace with breathtaking care.
Her solid, perfect weight settles against my chest. Her small arms wrap instinctively around my neck. The sweet, innocent scent of strawberry shampoo overpowers the harsh smell of gun oil radiating from Jude’s tactical gear.
Gratitude shatters me from the inside out.
I look up into Jude’s calm face. A silent vow passes between us. He didn’t just execute a tactical extraction. He infiltrated a heavily fortified cartel compound. He bypassed lethal security grids. He handled my entire world with absolute reverence.
“Thank you.” The words fail to capture the magnitude of the debt. “Thank you.”