Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5) (13 page)

“Come on, Romeo. Before the cops show up and wonder why sloppy joes give you an erection.”

Wheeler stretched out on Naya’s white sofa after she went to take a nap in her bedroom.
He couldn’t stop replaying the events in his head of what had happened earlier at the diner. While sitting at the counter drinking his milkshake, he’d heard Naya’s sultry voice sharpen. When he glanced over his shoulder, a man was facing her with his hand on the table. Because of the distance and the music on the speakers, he couldn’t hear the conversation.

He’d wanted to turn around and finish his lunch, but something had compelled him to watch—a spark that coiled in his stomach and burned hotter with each passing second. Should he interfere? He was hired to protect her life, not to meddle with her personal business, and a woman like Naya was certainly used to men approaching her all the time. When he saw the man’s fingers slide up her arm, his wolf began to snarl and pace within him.

Naya suddenly sprang to her feet and slapped the man in the face. Wheeler had flashbacks of when she’d done the same to him, and a surge of adrenaline poured through his veins like lava. Maybe seeing that should have made him dislike her for being so callous to men, but a smidge of unexpected jealousy bloomed in Wheeler, as if her punishments belonged only to him.

And wasn’t that a crazy fucking thought?

Wheeler didn’t even realize he was walking in their direction—it was as if his body and brain had disconnected, replaced by animal instinct. When she turned away and reached for her purse, the man curved his left hand across his right shoulder. Wheeler had seen that gesture before, and it meant the guy was three seconds from backhanding her.

Wheeler caught the man’s wrist and spun him around. “Thought you were going to do that, didn’t you?” he said through clenched teeth.

He blacked out for just a few seconds. It always happened during the first moments of a violent outburst. It didn’t matter if humans were watching. In his world, a man didn’t put his hand on a woman.

Wheeler shifted around on Naya’s sofa and rubbed his eyes. Just thinking about how that scene had played out made his heart thump so forcefully that he could see the rapid pace through the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt. Then blood rushed to his cock as he remembered the feel of her slender fingers sliding down the front of his pants. That in combination with the way she had forcefully led him out made him ache in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Even now the constriction was too much, so he freed the button and unzipped his pants, which only made him harder.

“Dammit,” he whispered, wanting so badly to stroke himself. Even worse, doing that while thinking of
her
.

His breaths became heavy and he shut his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. What was it about that scene that had incited such anger and arousal all at once? Maybe it was the thought of the way that man had touched her—invading her space. Or how goddamn sexy she looked standing up for herself and giving that asshole every bit of what he deserved.

Jesus
. Wheeler was stroking himself over the fabric. He thought about how ripe she looked in that outfit, how supple her breasts, and even the fact that she had on nude lipstick that matched her dress. Except it had a shimmer that made her lips look wet… as if she had licked them. He imagined her tongue gliding across her upper lip. The next thing he knew, he had pulled his shorts down enough that he could get a firm hold of his cock. He gripped the shaft, rolling his thumb over the tip. Wheeler’s body jerked, and his mind flooded with the memory of how her cheeks flushed the moment she’d caught sight of his erection.

An ache tightened at the base of his spine as he stroked even faster. The intensity flared, and Wheeler arched his back, feeling as if something was about to spring loose from his mind if he didn’t stop this aching desire. Her brown skin looked the color of cinnamon and honey, and she had exotic eyes that reeled him in with every glance.

He stroked faster
. Then his mind raced, thinking about when she had kissed him. How velvety sweet her tongue was, and the way she’d nibbled on his lip.
Christ
. He could still remember the way her kiss tasted, like dark cherries.

Almost there…

“Misha?”

Holy shit!
Wheeler didn’t have time for buttons and zippers, so he did the only thing that came to mind—he flipped over.

“Have you seen Misha?” Naya asked with a yawn. “I can’t sleep without my baby.”

“That what you normally wear during naptime?” he grumbled, trying to restrain his approval when he caught a glimpse of her walking past him in a pair of tight cotton shorts and a white tank top. He could see the cups of her ass below the shorts, tempting him to touch. Wheeler smashed his face into the couch pillow, rubbing it hard and wanting to end this humiliation.

“
Misha
,” she sang, peering behind her red chair.

Wheeler’s eye popped open as she bent over, her shorts riding up. Oh Jesus, he wasn’t going to survive this. Somehow, it was going to kill him.

“Maybe she got out,” he mumbled, realizing he was still hard and aching for release.

Naya turned around and folded her arms. “She’s slipped out a few times when I’ve had visitors, which is why I bought that collar. It just seems like I would have noticed. I guess with you around I was too distracted.”

“She’ll turn up.” But what he really meant to say was,
Get the hell out of here and let me zip up my pants.

Her bottom lip pushed out. “I have to go to work soon. That’s too long for her to be out.”

“It’s a cat. They’ve lived outside for millions of years.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did I say about wearing your dirty shoes in my house? Take them off.”

Not going to happen
, he thought. “Think I’ll keep ’em on. My feet are shy.”

The next thing he knew, she was undoing the laces and tugging off his boot. Something about feeling her removing any article of clothing from his body made him panic; he might end up drilling a hole to China through her couch.

Wheeler bent his leg, trying to pull it away. “Let me sleep. Promise I won’t walk on your couch.”

“Hold still.”

She moved closer, unraveling the lace from his bent leg. He caught a whiff of her perfume and suppressed a groan. Wheeler had experienced all kinds of torture in his life, and yet nothing compared to this. When the second boot came off, she wrapped her hands around his sock-covered foot and he felt himself twitch.

“You have nice feet.” Her fingers pressed into the sole, as if debating on whether or not a massage was in order.

Hell no, a massage was definitely
not
in order. Wheeler straightened his leg. “Can’t a man sleep in peace?”

Naya appeared in front of him, squatting on the floor. “Has anyone ever told you that you are an antisocial, introverted asshole? I’m trying to be nice and you’re…”

He moved his head more to the side to look at her. “I’m what?”

She craned her neck forward and furrowed her dark eyebrows. “Mr. Grumpy.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Diva.”

Her tongue swept across her lips and the direction of her gaze altered, looking up at his head. It made him self-conscious, but it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere. “I’m going to strip out of these clothes, lather my body with soapy suds, and take a long, hot shower. Why don’t you do me a favor and look for my pussycat?”

“Sure thing.”

Naya stood up, and he listened to her bare feet tread across the plush carpet out of sight. The door squeaked as it moved, but before it closed, she said, “I just had that couch steam cleaned, so I better not find one stain on it.”

When the door shut, Wheeler felt his cheeks heat. Was she making the comment because of his shoes, or did she know?

He glanced over his shoulder and everything looked okay from the back. Damn women—always making elusive remarks that left a man paranoid.

Wheeler flipped over and quickly fixed his pants, feeling like a stupid young wolf before hitting his prime. His phone rang and he pulled it from his back pocket. “Yeah?”

“It’s Austin. How’s it going?”

“Swell.”

“By the sarcasm in your voice, I’m going to assume the opposite. Look, you were the only one available I could trust with this job. I know you don’t like her, so just be thankful I didn’t ask you to stay by her side. Just sit tight in your car and follow close behind. I know it’s boring, but just make sure you let me know if you see anyone acting suspiciously. Especially if you sense a Mage.”

“A Mage, huh?” Wheeler washed his hands in the kitchen and then leaned against the counter, drying them with a dish towel. “Want to tell me what all this is about?”

“Did I just hear water running?”

“Car wash,” Wheeler quickly said.

“Right. Well, Naya’s a friend of the family, and she asked for my help. It’s not my business to discuss the details surrounding her request. This is serious, brother. Keep a close eye on anyone around her who looks suspect.”

“She works in a strip club. Everyone surrounding her looks suspect.”

Austin sighed. “Then pay attention to the men who
don’t
have bulges in their pants. This shouldn’t be for much longer. She should be okay inside her apartment at night, but just stay on her as much as you can.”

Wheeler picked up a potato scrubber shaped like a smiling spud and used it to brush his short beard. “Why couldn’t she just hire a regular bodyguard?”

“She has trust issues, like all women,” Austin said with a chuckle. “It’s not like we need her money, but she’s done a lot to help Lexi over the years. I think it’s time we did her a good turn. I’m only charging her so she doesn’t make this into a habit. By the way, Ben wanted me to let you know he’s gone for the night. He said a big tournament is going on and wanted you to keep your phone on.”

Wheeler set the scrubber down and stewed for a minute. That meant Ben wanted him on standby so he could hit him up for money if he lost his ass in a game. Why couldn’t his pack see what was really going on? As much of a screwup as Ben was, Wheeler couldn’t betray his brother and tell the pack. He felt responsible for Ben, and unlike the rest of the brothers who were spaced apart in years, he’d grown up alongside his twin and they had developed a close bond of loyalty and secrecy. Maybe because they shared the same genes, turning Ben away would be like betraying himself. Wheeler’s love for his twin was unconditional, even though Ben was the reason he’d almost lost his life in the panther pits.

“I’ll call you if I see anything out of the norm,” Wheeler promised. He stroked his chin, thinking about her tires getting slashed, their trip to a body-wax shop, breaking into Delgado’s office, a fistfight with a human at a diner, and then him impaling her sofa cushion with his penis.

No, nothing out of the norm about today. Nothing at all.

***

I sat in my dressing room, chilled by the cool air blowing from the vents. I enjoyed hot weather, and sometimes I thought I might be happier living on a tropical island, basking in the sun. Maybe it had to do with my panther, but it seemed like I was overly sensitive to air-conditioning. The song before my act was still playing, so I waited nervously while the girls finished their dance. The stages were booked except at nine, twelve, and three in the morning. During those hours, one girl got the floor, and it gave others a chance to either enjoy a well-deserved break or earn extra money performing private lap dances.

When I’d left my apartment to head to work, it was with a heavy heart. Misha hadn’t returned, and I worried. Wheeler followed behind me in a separate car, suddenly deciding he needed to keep his distance. I thought about when I’d crouched beside the sofa and looked into his eyes. There was such need there—a craving buried so deep that it made me wonder about his wolf. I didn’t know a man could have naughty eyebrows, but Wheeler had them. Pensive and yet slightly arched, like a man thinking about dismantling my outfit.

“You’re up,” Daphne said, out of breath. She sat next to me on the bench and used a wet towel to wipe her neck and then armpits. “I swear. Dean needs to turn on a little air out there. It’s a full house and the only air circulating in this building is in this room. What’s wrong? You look like a chicken about to take a swim in the deep fryer.”

“I always get jittery when I try a new act,” I said, applying a dusting of body shimmer to my neck and chest.

“Well, that’s an interesting outfit you have on.” Her orange eyebrows arched as she glanced down at my scantily clad body.

“I found a costume shop and did a little work on it with some scissors. You like?”

“You look like a ragamuffin, but if you think the men will go for that kind of thing, then more power to you.”

I smiled and stood up, admiring myself in the mirror. I pulled a lock of hair in front of my face and added extra blush on the contours of my cheeks to look animalistic and hungry. I already had defined cheekbones, so the shadowing drew attention to my face. I’d bought a short dress with jagged edges in brown and black—resembling something a cavewoman would wear. I cut it short, added a giant hole from my navel to my right hip, and ripped one strap away from my shoulder. I looked like a sexy woman in the midst of an escape.