hallways, always keeping the closet in sight.
A minute later, sure they’d left the building, he returned to Lara’s apartment. What a mess. He shook his head before gesturing for her to join him.
Lara stopped in her doorway, shock chased off her face by fury. Neither disguised the grief, though.
Dominic grimaced. He knew he wasn’t responsible. He hadn’t brought the goons here. Still, he felt like shit over her expression.
“Sweetheart, you’re safe. That’s what counts here.”
She wet her lips, looking around the destruction that’d once been her apartment. It didn’t look as if she had a lot of possessions, which had probably accounted for the quickness of their search.
“What were they looking for?” she wondered aloud.
“You.”
She bit her lip, eyeing a silk nightie in midnight-blue. He wondered how low on her hips that flimsy little thing fell and how much of her long, sexy legs it showed. He’d bet that was a beautiful sight. Shame it was currently shredded to pieces and anchored to her wall with what appeared to be one of her own steak knives. Her teeth snapped together with a loud click.
“Why?”
“To hurt your brother.” He kicked aside what’d once been her telephone on his way to the window. Before he glanced out, he shot her a look over his shoulder. “Oh, wait, you don’t have a brother.”
She muttered something that sounded like once a pain in the ass, always a pain in the ass. But that was the only acknowledgment she gave his comment, instead crossing the room to check to see if the bathroom had been hit as hard.
He didn’t need to hear her growl to know it had. This mess, it was a warning. Valdero’s goons would be thorough.
“The cops are here,” he said needlessly, since the thin windows didn’t block out the sound of approaching sirens. “One of the goons is in the building across the street watching from the window.”
“The police will protect me,” she said, her fingers twining together before she shook them loose as if trying to toss off the nerves. “Won’t they?”
Castillo turned, his careful gaze assessing as they swept the room. Then he looked at her and shrugged.
“Probably. But they don’t know what they’re up against, so whatever protection they offer might not be enough.”
“You can tell them,” she insisted.
“No can do, sweetheart. Missions are confidential. If my superiors want the cops filled in, they’ll do it. But I’ve gotta warn you, they’re out of the country for the next little while. A week, at least.”
“But my apartment is trashed. They’ll have to wonder why. They’ll investigate.”
He had to hand it to her—she didn’t get hysterical or dramatic. Her tone was even, her expression calm. But he could still see the anger and just a hint of fear. Since she was a woman, his instincts said to soothe and protect. But training and experience told him that she’d be safer if that fear stayed front and center. So he went for honesty instead.
“Yep. Chances are the police will suggest you stay with a friend while they do.” He eyed her living room, then tugged on his lower lip. “So, got any friends with disposable furniture?”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Okay.” Dominic knew perfectly well the best way to get a woman to do what he wanted was to agree with her. It didn’t put them in a friendlier mood, per se. Mostly it tended to make them suspicious, and they ended up doing things his way out of sheer contrariness.
Was it any wonder he loved them?
“I’d guess you have about three minutes to decide,” he told her, gauging the distance of the sirens and the traffic. “You wanna take your chances with the cops, deal with the results while they figure out what’s going on, that’s fine. You wanna come with me and be safe, grab your stuff. I’m outta here in two minutes.”
Biting her lip, she glanced at the broken glass splintered across her floor, then at the window.
“Would you be taking me to
A minute later, sure they’d left the building, he returned to Lara’s apartment. What a mess. He shook his head before gesturing for her to join him.
Lara stopped in her doorway, shock chased off her face by fury. Neither disguised the grief, though.
Dominic grimaced. He knew he wasn’t responsible. He hadn’t brought the goons here. Still, he felt like shit over her expression.
“Sweetheart, you’re safe. That’s what counts here.”
She wet her lips, looking around the destruction that’d once been her apartment. It didn’t look as if she had a lot of possessions, which had probably accounted for the quickness of their search.
“What were they looking for?” she wondered aloud.
“You.”
She bit her lip, eyeing a silk nightie in midnight-blue. He wondered how low on her hips that flimsy little thing fell and how much of her long, sexy legs it showed. He’d bet that was a beautiful sight. Shame it was currently shredded to pieces and anchored to her wall with what appeared to be one of her own steak knives. Her teeth snapped together with a loud click.
“Why?”
“To hurt your brother.” He kicked aside what’d once been her telephone on his way to the window. Before he glanced out, he shot her a look over his shoulder. “Oh, wait, you don’t have a brother.”
She muttered something that sounded like once a pain in the ass, always a pain in the ass. But that was the only acknowledgment she gave his comment, instead crossing the room to check to see if the bathroom had been hit as hard.
He didn’t need to hear her growl to know it had. This mess, it was a warning. Valdero’s goons would be thorough.
“The cops are here,” he said needlessly, since the thin windows didn’t block out the sound of approaching sirens. “One of the goons is in the building across the street watching from the window.”
“The police will protect me,” she said, her fingers twining together before she shook them loose as if trying to toss off the nerves. “Won’t they?”
Castillo turned, his careful gaze assessing as they swept the room. Then he looked at her and shrugged.
“Probably. But they don’t know what they’re up against, so whatever protection they offer might not be enough.”
“You can tell them,” she insisted.
“No can do, sweetheart. Missions are confidential. If my superiors want the cops filled in, they’ll do it. But I’ve gotta warn you, they’re out of the country for the next little while. A week, at least.”
“But my apartment is trashed. They’ll have to wonder why. They’ll investigate.”
He had to hand it to her—she didn’t get hysterical or dramatic. Her tone was even, her expression calm. But he could still see the anger and just a hint of fear. Since she was a woman, his instincts said to soothe and protect. But training and experience told him that she’d be safer if that fear stayed front and center. So he went for honesty instead.
“Yep. Chances are the police will suggest you stay with a friend while they do.” He eyed her living room, then tugged on his lower lip. “So, got any friends with disposable furniture?”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Okay.” Dominic knew perfectly well the best way to get a woman to do what he wanted was to agree with her. It didn’t put them in a friendlier mood, per se. Mostly it tended to make them suspicious, and they ended up doing things his way out of sheer contrariness.
Was it any wonder he loved them?
“I’d guess you have about three minutes to decide,” he told her, gauging the distance of the sirens and the traffic. “You wanna take your chances with the cops, deal with the results while they figure out what’s going on, that’s fine. You wanna come with me and be safe, grab your stuff. I’m outta here in two minutes.”
Biting her lip, she glanced at the broken glass splintered across her floor, then at the window.
“Would you be taking me to
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