Dangerous Protector (Federal Paranormal Unit)

Copyright © 2014 by Milly Taiden

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Latin Goddess Press

New York, NY 10456

http://millytaiden.com

Edited by Rachel Firasek

Cover by Mina Carter

Formatting by
Inkstain Interior Book Designing

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Property of Milly Taiden

“
I loved the sexual tension that was building between Trent and Erica from the first page. Between bouts of flirting and snarky conversations, I also enjoyed the brief glimpses of their vulnerable sides as well. Their chemistry was undeniably ever present
.”

—Michelle Wilson, Ms. Romantic Reads

“
It's a story of love, romance, hot sex, murder, mystery and friendship. It has everything!
!”

—Sheri & Jen, Two Bibliophiles

“
Wow! What a great HOT paranormal romantic suspense story! This story has everything you need for a great romantic suspense and then to add hot and hard paranormal characters - what can I say, but "YEAH!
”

—Theresa Esterline, I Heart Books

“
I just, couldn't put this down! It was hot. It was good. I'm dying for some more! WOW!
”

—Nicole Kuhn, Ebooks Galore

“
Readers will go on an emotional journey as they find out Erica's secret plus understand why she has issues trusting others with her ability. I personally wanted to punch someone.
”

—Barb Hicks, Smexy Fab Four

To my husband Mr. Tito (aka T)—

Thanks for your support and always being there
when I need you.

I love you
.

&

To my readers for loving my books and
always coming back for more.

Sirens blared. One after another
the police cruisers and fire department vehicles sped by in a rush. A honk sounded from behind James Brock’s SUV. Tony Ramirez, one of the Federal Paranormal Unit team members, glanced over his shoulder on the driver’s seat.

“
This moron is trying to cause an accident,” Tony yelled at the rearview mirror.

B
rock shifted to glimpse over his shoulder. A black Sedan tailed close behind them. Too close.

Ramirez
gripped the wheel so hard his tanned knuckles turned white. “I’m already doing eighty.”

“Tony, l
et them by.”

There
was something big going on. He curled his hands into fists in his lap. He knew what it was. They all knew.

“Where do you think they’re all going, Brock?”
The concern in Jane Donovan’s voice momentarily choked him. Her soft lilt reminded him of his mother’s voice. At first appearance, you’d think Donovan was a weak woman, but make her angry, and you’d have hell to pay.

Tension turned palpable with its own heartbeat in the
fast-moving SUV.

“I can take a wild guess.”

They made a sharp corner on a bend onto a dirt road. The SUV skidded on its wheels for a second. Everyone held on while they bounced in their seats.

“Jesus H
. Christ, Ramirez! Can you not to get us killed before we get there,” Donovan growled.

“Sorry, cariño, but there is no time to be worried about your
delightful ass bouncing on the seat when we have to find a missing kid.”

“I told you to stop calling me darling!”

“Ramirez…” Brock sighed.

Their con
stant bickering wasn’t unusual, so he ignored it and focused on the scene ahead. Multiple police cars parked outside the house he’d called the local PD on. The house he knew had the latest missing person they had been searching for.

“Oh,
God!” Fear laced Donovan’s whisper.

They were thinking the same thing
. That whoever kidnapped little Kyler Jones had killed her. That his request for the county to get to the house in question had been too late. His gaze roamed the area through the darkness of the early evening. Multitudes of tall willows surrounded the large house set in the middle of nowhere. Perfect. If he’d been looking for a place to do some of the things the person in that house was known for, this was the right spot. There wasn’t a body around for miles. Nobody to help. Nobody to hear the screams.

Ramirez hadn’t fully stopped when Brock jumped out of the SUV
, his feet hitting the ground with a thump. Immediate perspiration gathered on his upper lip. The humidity from August had brought intense heat. Though it was closing in on nighttime, the air sizzled with the high temperature from earlier.

He ran for the SWAT van. Instinct told him they’d know more than the local sheriff’s department.
Radios beeped. Concern expanded in his chest. Everyone seemed to want an update on the situation. He recognized one of the FBI department heads—Martin Galvez—standing off to the side of the SWAT van.

The older man stopped mid-sentence to give him one of his
degrading piercing glares. “Brock. What are you doing here?” Command oozed from his Latin accent.

Brock glanced from
Galvez to the other two lower ranked agents. Took both men all of a second to move away. That allowed him and Galvez to talk.

“This is our case. We found Kyler Jones through intense searching of phone records and
—”

“Save it
,” Galvez cut him off. He turned away from Brock to study the area.

“How are you going to retrieve the child? Do we know if she’s alive?”
Brock tried to tamp down the surge of power dancing through his veins. It wasn’t usually difficult to do. He’d mastered his darkness. But Galvez had a tendency of pushing his anger. The older man’s attitude lit a fire in his stomach.

Galvez smirked.
“We have a man who went in through the back.”

G
athered men and women avidly stared at the house. Watching. Waiting. Brock knew there were no guarantees of getting the child out alive. They all knew that. It’s what made his job that much harder.

Power
swirled at his fingertips. He need only know what to do, and he could end the entire thing in a matter of seconds. “Do you need me to—”

“What I need, is for you to keep yourselves out of the way
,” Galvez ordered.

Anger licked at his skin, growing at the speed of a derailed train. He shot a glance at Galvez.
For a split second, Galvez paled.

“I’d watch how you talk to people, Galvez
,” Brock said, no longer caring that his voice sounded hard. Steely.

An explosion rocked the ground. He jerked his gaze to the house. Flames consum
ed the structure. Screams and shouts filled the night. Men moved in all directions toward the house, gunfire blasting through the shouts. Brock’s muscles tightened.

“Can we do anything?”
Donovan yelled over the sirens and shouts. She ran a hand over her mussed up ponytail. Her fingers shook. He saw the desperate need to help in her eyes. It went against her nature not to.

Brock
shook his head. “We wait.”

The
thought of doing nothing didn’t appeal to him either. In fact, it was hell to hold back and not run into the house and get the kid himself. His power shoved outward. Pushing to get out. To take control.

“Finally!” Galvez sighed.

Brock’s vision followed Galvez’s line of sight until he saw a woman running out through the flames with a bundle covered in a dripping blanket.

His b
reaths thundered in his ears. Everything narrowed until the only thing he saw was
her
. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Was his mind playing a trick on him? After all these years? But no, it wasn’t a trick. Soaking wet, she ran from the burning house toward them. Paramedics surrounded her and took the covered bundle from her arms. She gasped for air, coughing through the smoke she’d inhaled before she finally glanced up and met his gaze.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, watching everything like a spectator versus an active participant. The beast inside him roared. After all the years they’d been apart, after she’d
left him for no apparent reason, she was back. He watched her march toward him. Her dark gaze slid from him to Galvez.

In the background, firemen fought the burning house.
Sirens continued to blare. Loud. Driving the point that chaos had ensued around them. But he couldn’t find it in him to care. His sole focus was on the woman he’d loved. Hard. The woman who’d left him.

Cynthia Vega.

“Vega.” Galvez’s clipped tone grated on his nerves. “What took you so long?”

Her brows dipped low
, eyes flashing. “Get over it. I got the child out alive. That was my main concern. I did what was needed. If it took all night…” She shrugged. “It would have taken all night.”

T
he black T-shirt soaked and plastered to her brown skin, showed off the curves Brock had always loved. Curves he’d kissed, licked, and bit in the heat of passion.

Brock’s hands itched to grab her. Power surged inside him. Dark. Deadly. It swarmed his veins and expanded through his limbs in a wave of heat. A haze of red clouded his vision.

Cynthia met his gaze. Her perfectly arched brows rose. “Brock.”

He took a deep breath. Inhaled the soft scent of
Jasmine she loved to wear. Fear seeped from her pores, mingling with the sweet Jasmine scent. But this wasn’t the time or place to discuss their past.

“Vega.”

Pain flashed through her eyes for a millisecond before she went back to the detached professional. But he’d seen it. Knew that she’d heard the anger in the way he’d softly growled her name. She folded her arms over her chest. Defensive. He’d gotten to know each of her quirks. This was her I’m-not-at-fault move.

“We don’t need you here, Brock.” Galvez’s voice broke through the tension between him and Cynthia.

He eyed the older man. Saw the curious way he glanced back and forth between them.

“As you can see, we have it under control. You and your
—” Galvez’s gaze slid over Brock’s shoulder to where Donovan and Ramirez stood behind him “—team can go. The child’s safe.”

He wanted to argue with Galvez, but it wasn’t his fault Cynthia had messed with his concentration.

Cynthia swallowed hard. Indecision marked her features. He gave her a slow once-over before turning on his heel to face Donovan and Ramirez. “Let’s go.”

“But
—”

“The child’
s safe, Donovan. That’s what we came for.”

Confusion
sparked in the depths of her eyes. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t leave otherwise.”

That was the absolute truth. All his team members knew it. He’d never leave a crime scene unless the victim was safe or— in a worst-case scenario he was much too familiar with —dead. While his gift was seen as a dark destructive force, he preferred to use it for the safe return of those victims he could help find.

Donovan
nodded. He marched past her toward the SUV, leaving her and Ramirez to follow.

“Relax, babe. If he says the kid
’s okay, then the kid’s okay,” Ramirez whispered at Brock’s back.

“Will you please stop calling me babe?” Donovan
hissed.

“Brock!”
The sound of Cyn’s yell reached him just as he was about to hop into the passenger side of his vehicle.

He stopped
. The frustration he was tamping down surged all over again. She reached him a moment later, still panting from the run out of the burning house.

“I just want to say…thank you.” Her gaze dropped down to his mouth. Lust bubbled up inside him. At her slow lick of her lips, he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from hauling her to him. To taste her. “I know your team f
ound the child.” She met his gaze. Desire sparkled in the depths of her hazel eyes. “I appreciate it.”

The beast he never allowed
control roared inside, demanding a taste of her lips. Ah, those lips. She had the full luscious bow shaped lips that he knew were soft, decadent, and fit perfectly against his. Her lips, along with every abundant curve on her sexy body, had been his downfall.

“You don’t need to thank me. This is our job.”

“I know I don’t need to thank you. But you and your team…” She glanced over his shoulder into the SUV. Ramirez and Donovan were actively studying them with interest. “You got her and called for help before anything could happen. You saved this child.”

He gripped the door handle. “No. We found her.
You
saved her.”

“James…”

The hairs on his arms rose. Something unlocked inside him. Her husky voice, pitched with that sexy Latin accent, was like a punch to the gut. It was low, so low over the still blaring sirens, over the shouts from the firefighters, if he hadn’t had enhanced hearing, he’d never have heard it. None of that mattered. To hear her say his name so softly instantly brought back memories of another time, another place. A time when they’d done much more than mere talking. She shifted. His attention was drawn to her chest. The material of her top plastered to her body, showing off her full breasts.

Ignore it.

He pushed the unwanted memories and feelings back. “You got the kid, Vega. That’s what matters.”

Hurt clouded her eyes.
Should he care that she’d been hurt because he called her by her last name? No. He
couldn’t
care. She’d left him and never returned. Until now. Those emotions weren’t part of him any longer.

“Brock—”

He turned his back on her. He’d never done it before, but he did it now. Dammit, he hadn’t expected it to be so hard. He hopped into the SUV. Shut the door. And shut her out. Fuck. It filled his chest with a dull pain to leave her there with that gratefulness shining in her eyes. But he refused to glance out the window once he was in his seat. Instead, he turned to Ramirez and saw the questions in his team member’s eyes and ignored them.