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  “She is mine, Jacobs. If you don’t want to die here and now with the other guy, you will not even think about touching her.”

  The man referred to as Jacobs froze. So did Altair.

  “I told you, you Taliban motherfucker, to leave me and her alone,” Trent snapped, coming closer.

  Altair kept his counsel, more than aware most people who figured they had the upper hand would give something away, especially when their ego was as large as this man’s seemed to be. He shifted his body with a subtle motion, putting himself in a better defensive position.

  “Nothing to say for yourself?” Trent’s spittle flew to land on Altair’s cheek.

  He still didn’t move. An act—or lack of one—that, from all accounts, succeeded in pissing Trent off even more.

  “Come on, you fucker.” Trent jerked toward him but never touched him. “Scared? Take Roz down to the other end. I’ll be right there.”

  Altair observed as six men headed down there with a still singing Roz in the middle. He returned his focus to the ones around him. Most of them were lax with their security, assuming he wouldn’t try anything. That was their mistake.

  “I’m going to go down there and fuck her like I’ve wanted to do since I met her. You, fucker, will be at this end being shot.”

  Rage simmered in Altair’s blood at the mere words Trent spewed. None of his anger showed, however—he was too well trained for that. He waited, biding his time.

  “Bet you wish you never thought to step in where you weren’t wanted.” Trent turned and walked away. “Shoot him once I am over there. I don’t want any blood spatter on me or my clothing.” He tugged on the sleeve of his suit and strode away.

  Altair glanced askew at the man to his left, focusing on the easy-going way he held his AK. I hope she was not kidding with that wink. He didn’t have any way to communicate with her about synchronizing their attack but he had to do something—and soon.

  “Back up,” one man said, gesturing with the weapon.

  Altair did, with slow steps. When that man looked over his shoulder to mark Trent’s progress, he attacked, lunging sideways and snaring the man there unaware. Using him as a shield, he curled his own finger around his on the trigger and depressed it.

  Rat-a-tat sounds filled the air as he killed the men around him. The machine was fully automatic. He looked across the room as he dropped the rifle and broke the neck of the man he’d used as a shield.

  Swiping up a different weapon, he sprinted for Roz and those around her who’d been distracted by his ruckus. That was their mistake. He drew up as he watched her explode into a warrior. A bow in hand, she fired off bolts that took the men down, her movements so swift he didn’t even see her reload. When it was just Trent left, she backed him up until he could go no farther.

  Altair jogged up and covered him as well. He gazed at the woman with him, no hint of her being drunk. Her gaze was sharp and calculating. Was it wrong for him to be turned on by her fierce look?

  “I told you to leave me alone, Trent. I warned you,” she growled, stepping closer.

  The man blanched. “You don’t want to kill me, Roz. You’re an attorney. You know the cops will find you and you’ll go to jail for first degree murder.”

  “I’m a Guardian first and you’re fucking wrong if you think I won’t kill you. I should have killed you in that room that day.”

  He looked at Altair. “Are you just going to stand there and let her do this?”

  “Yes.” He gazed at Roz. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Grab anything you touched.” She stared at him. “You are okay?”

  He nodded and dashed back across the warehouse to pick up the AK-47 he’d first held. That was it, aside from the man.

  Pivoting around, he saw Trent sliding to the floor, death his obvious new owner, where he collapsed in a pile. Roz strode toward him, bow in hand, her hair bouncing with each step. Dangerous and sexy.

  “Got everything?”

  “Except the man I touched.”

  “That’s not a problem, this place will be incinerated.” She whipped back to face her car. “Let’s go.”

  They climbed in. He took the wheel again and left. As he turned a corner down the street, the building erupted into a ball of flame. He spied her in his periphery and noticed that hazy look about her shoulders. Remembering it meant she was in discussion with her brethren, he kept his questions to himself.

  Once he had closed the door at his house and locked it, he gazed at Roz. Her eyes still sparked fire and he found he admired her even more than he had before. He strode up to her and snaked an arm around her midsection, drawing them tight together, allowing Roz to feel the press of his cock.

  “Am I to presume this is what your weekends are like?”

  She smiled up at him, tucking some curls away from her face then grasping his biceps. “Only the boring ones. There will be more people, more weapons, just more.”

  He put his face to hers, brushing their noses together. “We have some strategizing to take care of, then.”

  “Can we strategize in the shower?”

  He scooped her up and headed for the bathroom. “I do not see why we would have problems with that.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Let me cover the back then,” Altair said, leaning back in the chair at his kitchen table. He reached for his beer while she was distracted by the wet, blue-black curls on his head.

  Roz longed to sink her fingers into the thick strands and kiss him. God, what’s wrong with me? All I am doing is thinking about sex, sex and more sex. Okay, not that it’s a bad thing, but right now I am supposed to be concentrating on how things are going to go down in Greensboro.

  “What if you get into trouble and need help?”

  He pinned her with his black gaze. “I realize I am not a Guardian but I am capable of handling myself.”

  The offense he’d taken was blatant, even though his expression had never changed. He drank some beer then rolled the bottle in his fingers.

  “I know you are. I’m sorry. I’m used to being around Mal and Taylor, who aren’t seasoned soldiers.” She spread her fingers out over the smooth wood top, her mind drifting to him making this table. Bent over, shirtless as he sanded, varnished and finally painted.

  Christ, I need to pull it together.

  “Do we need to pick up anything before we leave? And what time are we going?”

  “We’ll fly out Saturday morning. And no, nothing else we need to pick up.” She shifted on the seat. “All your gear will be on the plane with us.”

  “You’re able to send weapons on a plane?”

  She grinned. “Inaki is amazing with what he can make. They will be below in the cargo area with the rest of our luggage. No one but us will know they are there, even if the bags open.”

  “I believe I want to meet this Inaki.” He focused back on the map before him. “Then what, once we land?”

  “Rental car and off to the hotel.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Then once darkness arrives, we will go say hi.”

  His gaze snared her. “You live for this adrenaline that comes with it.”

  “In a sense, yes. I would be perfectly happy if I wasn’t a Guardian and didn’t have to worry about when this battle would come to fruition, but since I’m not able to do that, I have come to accept it. Spending my days riding horses would suit me fine.”

  His face was hard to decipher.

  “Does that offend you? That I am not squeamish about killing?”

  “No,” he said. “I am trained the same. I can kill when necessary, only I do it without guilt. You are a lot more complex than you let people believe of you, Roz.”

  “How so?” She folded up the map and put it to the side.

  “You have this air of innocence about you and yet, when it comes to it, you can kill without batting an eye.”

  “You’ll find I’m extremely protective of those I care for. These people of the New Order would take great pleasu
re in killing my family, the siblings who mean the world to me. I will do whatever is necessary to prevent that. I used to worry about each one I killed. It would put me in a state of depression for a week or so. But I learned They will not stop. There are endless people who will fall for the lies and come after us. Now it is something that happens.”

  “And the depression?”

  “Is locked away in a small box until I have time to go riding. Then I let it go.” She put her foot on the chair with her. “I’m not heartless and I don’t enjoy killing. I love the adrenaline, yes, but I don’t enjoy taking another life.”

  “So then it is understood I will cover the back.”

  Her affirmative reply slipped out before the full statement he’d spoken had registered. “That wasn’t fair.”

  He rose and carried his drink with him. “Probably not.” He walked out into the living room.

  She rested her chin on her raised knee and sighed. Theirs was going to be a unique pairing. He wasn’t one who would be asking her forgiveness in situations like that because he didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong.

  Altair popped his head back in the room. “Coming?”

  “Where to?” she asked, even as she slipped from the chair to follow. He had headed upstairs and she jogged up behind him. “Do you have a nickname? I mean, did they give you one?”

  He paused on the second to top step and glanced back at her. “No. Do you have one?”

  She caught up to him and stood beside him, their bodies sharing the same space. “Roz. My real name is Rosamund.”

  “Why did they not call you Rose or Rosa?”

  She grinned. “Guess I’m not sweet enough.”

  “I do not want nor need sweet, so that is fine by me.” His gaze was gentle as it caressed her face. He touched the corner of her lips with his knuckle then continued up and off down the hall.

  She stared at his ass, admiring the way it looked in his jeans. Damn! Roz shook off her mesmerized state and got on her way. Placing her hand on his back, she peered around him into the room.

  It was beautiful, awash in cool and neutral hues, and there were pictures of horses framed on the wall. A large golden desk sat on one side, facing a big window.

  “Wow,” she breathed against his arm. “This is lovely.”

  “We can change it around if you—”

  “No, it’s perfect,” she said. Roz moved into the room, loving the feeling it gave her. “When did you do this?”

  “While you were busy doing other things.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her back to his chest. “I am glad you like it.”

  “I do.” She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s a sanctuary.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Or an office, so you can work here as well.”

  She scrunched up her face before sighing dramatically. “Work… I suppose that’s something I have to do at times.” She kissed his cheek then left to go explore the room. A fat brown leather recliner sat in the opposite corner from the desk. The carpet was beige and plush beneath her bare feet.

  She walked to each photo and stared. A rearing Friesian in a field of wildflowers. A palomino running through a stream. A herd tearing through a field of snow, and a few more. She stopped before a picture of a bay quarter horse who stood alone on the top of a knoll surrounded by nothing but green grass. Placing two fingers upon the glass, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  She could feel the stallion’s pride and energy, even through the picture—pride at his herd and the energy he had coiled within his powerful muscles.

  Her soul again at ease, she opened her eyes and glanced about. She was alone. Altair had vanished at some point. Probably when I was standing here touching the picture with my eyes closed looking like a fool.

  With one last lingering look around the room he’d set up for her, she departed and headed to the bedroom they would be sharing. She halted in the doorway as she stared across the open room to where he was shirtless by the window.

  He stood there with one hand braced on the glass, allowing her to watch the defined muscles in his back—a back that was crisscrossed with scars. Before, she’d not paid attention to his injuries but now she took the opportunity.

  They were thin, and she wondered what they had been made with.

  “Blades,” he responded without turning around, a brief skid of his fingers on the glass the only sign he wasn’t as calm as he portrayed.

  “I’m sorry?” Did I ask that other question aloud?

  “The marks on my back. You asked what made them. Blades. Very thin and extremely sharp.”

  She fisted her hand as anger swamped her. Who the fuck would do this? She relaxed her hand then moved toward him. Dampening her lips, she reached out and placed her palms upon his skin. She dipped her head and pressed her lips to the scar directly before her.

  “Who did it?”

  “A great number of different people. Their names mean nothing to me. Life was not easy, doing what I did.”

  Another kiss before she trailed her lips over the transverse mark along his mid back. “There’s a difference between a not easy life and being tortured, Altair.” She moved to another one—this time it had a jagged edge. “What’s this one from?”

  “Saw blade.”

  Her heart hurt and she closed her eyes, trying not to envision him being abused like this. Twining her arms around his waist, palms against his abdomen, she hoped the tears lingering on her lashes wouldn’t fall.

  Bringing one hand back, she touched a third. “Here?”

  “They punctured my lung with that strike.”

  Her tears couldn’t be contained any longer and they dripped from her eyes to land upon his skin. She touched and kissed every last one, not ever wanting him to feel that she was ashamed he had them. Holding him tight once more, she rested her cheek against his back.

  “Did you ever get revenge?”

  “Every day I have my revenge.” He took a deep breath. “I lived and continue to do so.”

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Altair. I wish I could take it all away.” She spoke from the heart.

  “They tried to break me and failed. It made me who I am.”

  Yes, it did. She closed her eyes and just held on.

  * * * *

  Altair smiled at the flight attendant he passed then lifted first his bag, then Roz’s, into the overhead bin in the first class section. He allowed her to slip in first and take the window seat. Even so, he was in his seat and had fastened his belt before she’d even got off her feet. He watched her carefully as she sat beside him.

  The terseness about her mouth worried him. He leaned in close and kissed her. Altair knew he’d shocked her but he was pleased to see she’d relaxed a bit when he sat back.

  “What was that for?” she asked as the flight attendant for their section began asking about drinks.

  “You looked worried.”

  “Did it show?”

  “Yes. What is the problem?”

  “Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” a woman dressed sharply in the airline’s uniform asked.

  Roz met her gaze with what he knew to be a forced smile. “Jack and Coke, please.”

  She nodded. “And you, sir?”

  “Tomato juice with a small bit of ice and a lime wedge, if you have lime. Or lemon.”

  She jotted it down, gave another smile then moved to the next set of seats.

  “Roz?”

  She stared out of the small window briefly before lowering the shade again and breathing deeply. “I’m claustrophobic.” She closed her eyelids.

  “Yet you are flying?”

  “Quickest way to get there.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “It’s why I always take the stairs rather than the elevator if I can.”

  “Then why are you the one who is going here? Why not one of the others?”

  “I can’t stop being who I am because I don’t like small, confined places. I will be fine, don’t w
orry. Once we take off, I will open the shade and stare out.”

  “That works?”

  “Enough so that I can get to where I need to.”

  “The day I first saw you, you got into the elevator.”

  “Not happily, that’s for sure. Jefferson Gates, the man I was with, isn’t in the best of shape and I had already lost time because of Trent. It was the quickest way to get to where I needed and give him some time to talk to me about what he’d needed.”

  “Well, if you need me to help you forget where you are right now, there is a lavatory just ahead. We could meet in there.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, pleased when she laughed in response.

  “I’m all for it,” she said, leaning closer to him. “So long as you promise, when we get kicked off, you explain it all to Lian.”

  He scratched at the stubble on his face. “Maybe we should stay in our seats.”

  “Here you go, ma’am.” The attendant reached in front of Altair, handing her drink over.

  “Thank you,” she said, before accepting it and sipping from the glass.

  He took his own drink, with lime, and watched the expression on Roz’s face settle more.

  “Scared of Lian?” she asked, once they were again alone.

  “Scared?” He sipped his drink. “No, I prefer the term cautious.”

  She laughed lightly. “Yeah, I’m scared of him too.”

  He cast a glance about him and once he was content no one was listening to their conversation, he continued with his questions. “How old is he?”

  Roz, who had rotated her upper body so she nearly faced him in the seat, shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Old.”

  “And the woman on the wall? The oil portrait?”

  “Ahh, that. That woman is his one true love, Lana. She’s the reason he got into fostering children. They were married for a good number of years.”

  “No children of their own?”

  “None that I know of. The child she’s holding in that picture was adopted by a different family. It was before he started being a foster father. To hear him tell it, one of the vineyard workers found the baby in the field. He’d been left in a basket.” She drank a bit more before accepting the peanuts handed over.