Protector: The Elect, Book 1 (12 page)

Esme huffed. “Hell. It must be.”
 

“What I’d like to know is how they knew where you were,” Brax snarled, exchanging a speaking glance with his brother, who nodded.
 

“We’ll check the car, but I can’t believe Mason missed something.”

She may not be able to read Brax’s thoughts unless her let her, but Aaron’s were loud and clear. It was the first stray thought she’d caught from him. She wondered if it was because he was talking to Brax or was just pissed off.
 

“You think there’s a tracking device on Brax’s car?”
 

Aaron met her gaze, as steady and strong as his brother. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out before you leave here.”

“Do you check for that kind of thing often?” she asked Brax.
 

He shook his head. “Not normally, but Mason did check all the vehicles that have been outside the compound since you joined us. We could have missed something, though. The only time a tracker could have been added is when we went to Dr. Franklin’s house. We thought there were two people hiding nearby, but there could have been a third.”

Then she remembered the business card. She pulled it from her jeans pocket and turned it over. It read
The Stirling Institution
and nothing else. No contact name, number, or address. The card stock was a rich cream color and heavy. Expensive. She scowled and muttered. “Weird.”
 

“What?” Mallory asked, voice heavy with curiosity as she took the card. “Where did you get that?”

“The shooter must have dropped it when he was fighting with Brax.”
 

Both men had drawn closer as they spoke, Aaron careful not to look at her sitting in just her jeans and bra. She might have found his discomfort amusing, even endearing, under other circumstances.
 

“You’ve heard of it?” Brax asked Mallory.
 

He couldn’t keep the scowl from his voice or shield the protectiveness he was feeling from his thoughts. Man, they took defending their women just a little too seriously. Mallory apparently knew how to take it stride, though. She smirked.

“And you haven’t.”

“Mallory.” His voice was low, almost gentle, but the warning and demand were easy to read. The younger woman’s smile widened.
 

“It’s about an hour northeast. It’s a very exclusive, very expensive mental health facility. Where the well-heeled and influential send their family to dry out or get them back on their meds and stable.”
 

Brax frowned. “How do you know about it? I’ve never heard of this place.”
 

“I have a friend from school who went to work there.” She shrugged. “Apparently the security is insane. Permanent lockdown. But the pay is so good staff turnover is nonexistent.”
 

“Aaron, you know anything about it?”

“Not really. It’s well outside our jurisdiction. And the kind of people who can afford care like that expect total discretion from the facility. If they have any problems I’m sure they handle it in house or with mediators.”

Why on earth would a place like that be interested in her? Brax apparently wondered the same thing. His expression was thoughtful, considering.
 

“Mallory?” Brax asked. “Can you ask your friend about this place? Discreetly.”
 

She nodded. “Sure. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

While she’d spoken, Mallory had done the sutures. She covered it with a large bandage and backed up.
 

“All done. Keep it cleaned and bandaged, and get it looked at in a few days.”
 

Esme nodded she understood. Mallory gave her a sympathetic look and pulled a notepad from her shirt pocket. “I need to ask you about the fire.”

“I wasn’t there. I can’t imagine I’ll be any help.”

“You never know,” Mallory said. “Tell me what Sunday morning is normally like in the building.”

Her condo was one of four in what had once been a stately Victorian mansion. All of the units were three stories and roughly the same size, about two-thousand square feet. The place had as much character as the rest of its residents: the artist who lived behind her, the young goth couple next store, and the retired judge who lived behind them.

“Was anyone hurt?” she asked and felt awful that she hadn’t thought about them before.

“No, everyone got out fine.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

Mallory gave her a slight smile. “Tell me about Sunday mornings first.”

She wasn’t sure what was behind the request, but didn’t see the harm in it. “Nothing special. I get up about eight and sit on the porch with a drink and the paper. Sometimes one of the neighbors will join me.”
 

“No breakfast?” Mallory asked lightly.

“Not me. Star cooks breakfast every morning, really early. She likes to be done before dawn. Something about painting in the morning light.”

Mallory didn’t say anything as she scribbled down what Esme said. “Does anyone have visitors?”

Esme arched an eyebrow. “You mean the overnight kind?”

“Any kind,” Mallory said. “Regulars?”

“The judge’s kids visit him. My brother and nephew. The others have a bunch of friends, but I couldn’t tell you names.”

It was quiet for several long seconds. “So what happened?” Esme asked.

“It looks like a kitchen fire. It started in your friend Star’s apartment and spread through the rest of the building. Her turpentine supply probably accelerated it.”

“You don’t sound convinced. What did Star say?” she asked suspiciously.

“She says she was asleep when the fire started. The stove knobs were all on when the scene was investigated.”

“So it was intentional,” Esme said softly.

“Could have been,” Mallory said. “Or it could have been an accident your neighbor doesn’t want to admit to.”

“But why? If it was an accident?”

Mallory shrugged. “People do weird things. If you figure out why, let me know.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Aaron answered, spoke softly to whoever was on the other side, and sent the messenger on his way. When he returned he handed Brax a small plastic bag. Esme stepped closer to see the small object inside. It was square, flat, and less than half an inch square.
 

“That’s a tracker?” she asked, curious but unconvinced. Surely something that small couldn’t do what he claimed.

“Not only is this baby not on the market yet, but we have no idea who made it,” Aaron told her. He looked at his brother. “You have better resources and a much bigger budget than I do. Maybe you can find out something.”

Brax folded the baggie up and put it in the purse Esme had slung over her shoulder. “Where did you find it?” he asked.

Aaron snorted. “That’s the interesting part. It was wrapped under the car antenna. The tech thought it was tape at first. It’s really ingenious,” he said admiringly. “The Elect could use this kind of technology.”

Brax didn’t look as excited as Aaron, though. He had paled and his eyes were dark, filled with worry. “You’d need deep pockets for this.”

“Yeah.” His brother sobered instantly and shifted his gaze to Mallory a moment before returning to Brax. “Be careful.”

Chapter Seven

Brax didn’t say a word when they left and started the drive home. He had no idea what to say or even think. He’d never felt helpless before and he didn’t like it one fucking bit. Mason and Carter would check the local sellers for tracking devices and try to find the buyer, but Brax doubted they’d find anything. It wasn’t a model he’d seen before, wasn’t common or cheap.
 

That wasn’t why he remained quiet, though. He didn’t trust himself. If he looked at her, if he spoke to her, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to find a secluded dirt road, strip her and prove to himself that she was okay. He’d never allow her to be in such danger again.
 

“The silent treatment isn’t helping,” she mumbled when they pulled onto the highway.

His hands clenched around the wheel until his knuckles popped. “Unless you’ve decided getting naked and making out in a car like a couple of teenagers is a good idea, silence is the only option.”
 

He felt her shock, her disbelief at his statement, wrap around him, but it was the surge of arousal, hot and sweet and only for him that made him groan. “I mean it, Esme. Get it under control.”
 

He glanced over to see her lace her fingers together and place them in her lap. “I don’t know if I can. What the hell have you done to me?”

Wrong time, definitely wrong place, but it didn’t matter. That hint of confused acceptance was irresistible. And he knew just the place to go, a little-used section of the compound’s property but much closer than the main gate and house. Two miles later he took the exit.
 

“Where are we going?”
 

Was it alarm he heard in her voice? He looked over and had to smile. Not alarm. Lust. Need. She was flushed, her eyes almost feverish.
 

“Just a few more minutes, baby. Someplace safe. And private.”
 

He turned on the gravel road, drove a mile to the gate and entered his code, waiting seconds while it closed behind them. It might be an excess of caution since he’d seen no one following them, but he made sure no one snuck in anyway. He drove to a small hunting cabin he used when he needed space from the pressures of his duty to the Elect. The place he went to recharge.
 

He pulled the SUV to an abrupt stop in front of the cabin and turned to her for a kiss. He couldn’t wait. Hell, he might not even be able to get her inside the first time, though he was dying to try out the big, comfortable mattress he kept in the loft bedroom. Her lips were soft and greedy. Her taste ambrosia. He wanted to spread her out, taste and nip every sweet curve.
 

Somehow he managed to break the kiss. “Inside.”
 

She whimpered and reached for him. “Too long.”
 

He didn’t try to stop her. He hauled her over the wide console into his lap, somehow got them both out, and hurried to front door. She was light and perfect in his arms. He was desperate to have her but still determined to take his time. There was no way he’d make it upstairs.
 

The cabin was one big open space with a mini kitchen along one side and the rest of the space given over to the living area. Unlike most homes in central Florida, there was a large stone fireplace, and he laid her down on the plush black rug lying before it.
 

He stopped her when she tried to remove his shirt and let her rise so that he could take hers off. The bra was next. He nudged her back, pushing her hands above her head. “Don’t move, angel.”
 

He removed her socks and shoes quickly but took his time peeling her jeans off, revealing each creamy smooth inch of skin like he was unwrapping a long-anticipated present. He shook with the effort not to fall on her like a starving man, but when he stretched out over her and took her nipple into his mouth, he suspected it was a battle he’d lose.
 

He slid his hand down her side, almost hurrying now, trembling with anticipation as his fingers found her sex and spread her for his exploration. She was hot. Wet. One finger pushed inside her while he found the hard nub of her clit with his thumb. She jerked in his hold and cried out.
 

Esme didn’t think she could stand it. She rolled her head back and forth, fighting the fire in her veins. The rush of arousal was so exhilarating she thought she’d expire from it. He switched to her neglected nipple as he thrust a second finger inside her, fast and deep, the way she loved. It catapulted her straight into orgasm. Hard ripples of sensation whipped through her. She was aware he moved, that he repositioned them until she was on her hands and knees, but his intent didn’t register until he pressed against her from behind.
 

He leaned over her and whispered in her ear. “Ready, baby?”

Her nod wasn’t finished before he slammed into her. He froze, gave a groan that was half growl as his hands clenched on her hips.
 

“You’re so damned tight.”

He withdrew to the head of his cock and slowly pushed back in before doing it again.
 

“I thought that was good,” she said.
 

She rocked back against him, trying to take him deeper, trying to hurry him up. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted out of control. He released one hand and slapped her ass. There was a hint of a sting, a rush of excitement, and her channel squeezed around him.
 

“You like that, baby?”

She could only groan as he tapped the other cheek and began to thrust inside her in long, lazy strokes. The next tap was harder. His strokes were quicker, deeper. She swore the pleasure licked over every nerve ending in her body. He pressed a trail of kisses up her spine, pausing to nibble her earlobe.