The Boss Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 3) by Victoria Paige (summer beach reads .TXT) 📕

“Aren’t we? Be honest. I met you just a week ago. A week ago, you thought I was this nefarious scientist hellbent on world destruction…”

“You have a flair for the dramatic. A lot can happen within a week.” He shrugged. “Besides, you grew on me.”

“Wow. Antonio … that’s very flattering.”

“I’m not good with words.”

Charly knew that wasn’t his problem. He had no problem complimenting her on her physical attributes, but when it came to anything close to expressing feelings … forget it.

“You know how you sound?”

Antonio emitted an exasperated huff. “Will you come here so I can work on your hand?”

Charly went on all fours and crawled beside him. “You make me sound like a mold that grew on you.”

He snatched her and rolled her on her back. She started laughing. “Don’t tickle me.” She gasped when his fingers dug into her ribs. His eyes gleamed. “I may not be good with words because I prefer action.”

She blinked, and before she knew it, he was kissing her in devouring strokes with his tongue. A hand roved up and down her body. Her breath hitched when his thumb flicked the tip of a nipple. She moaned into his mouth and just as quickly as the kiss began, it was over.

Antonio cursed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. You make me lose control so easily.”

Charly could see the giant bulge behind his boxer briefs. “I see that.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “You seemed pleased with yourself, minha linda.” He grabbed the elixir bottle from the nightstand. “I don’t want to see you in pain. So, massage first. You’re probably going to fall asleep.”

She probably would. The warmth of his body was very relaxing. “If you ravished me right now, I wouldn’t care.”

He laughed briefly. “I prefer an active partner. Come on, let’s get you under the blankets.”

Was it weird she didn’t feel weird lying in bed beside him for the very first time? Weirder still, when he helped her get settled under the covers as if taking care of her was the most natural thing for him, she surrendered to his ministrations without argument. She stiffened though when he traced the scars that lined her palm and her fingers.

“One day you will tell me how you got this,” he whispered as the tendrils of sleep curled around her.

“Not yet.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He didn’t say anything else and she sank into oblivion.

21

He was suffocating.

He clawed at his throat, at the plastic stuck to his face blocking much-needed oxygen.

Martinez’s muffled shouting rang in his ears.

Antonio woke with a start. A sheen of sweat beaded his forehead and he was disoriented with where he was. He was not in his room at the villa.

Light was streaming in from the window illuminating the suitcases and duffle on the floor.

Charly.

His hand reached for her, remembering the night they spent together. Charly wrapped in his arms and who later complained about being too hot and moved to the edge of the bed.

Where the hell was she?

He sprung out of bed, strode to the bathroom and splashed water over his face and let the sting of the mouthwash shake off the last remnants of the nightmare. One he hadn’t had for years. Grabbing a shirt and slipping on his sweatpants from yesterday, he left their bedroom and hurried down the stairs in search for her.

No one was in the house, but he heard voices and activity outside including Charly’s tinkling laughter.

Who was making his woman laugh? Antonio thought sourly as he yanked open the door and his mood this morning went from bad to nuclear.

Charly was talking to a man.

Not just any man.

He knew him. Declan Roarke. Claudette had mentioned him. Mentioned that he was the only man more handsome than Antonio.

It was the fucker who made Charly laugh.

Red hazed the edges of his vision.

He stalked toward them in long purposeful strides.

Garrison, who was closer to the door, turned in time to see him and grabbed his arm.

“Let me go,” he snarled.

“Would you rein it in? Jesus Christ,” Garrison muttered. “That’s one of my men. And, I warn you, he’s married to a cop.”

“I know!” He shrugged off the other man’s hand and fought to control this tumultuous and unexpected feeling. This possessiveness. He wanted Charly’s smile only for himself.

When did he become that man?

He was behaving like Miguel Walker over Ariana.

He stopped short of Charly and Declan as the thought punched into him.

He was behaving like Miguel Walker.

Over Ariana.

Puta Merda.

He would not think of that emotion. This was not it.

Forcing a smile on his face even when it felt like his jaw was about to crack, he approached them at a looser gait. Charly turned to look at him, her eyes widening and then narrowing as if to warn him.

“Charly, gatinha,” he said, proud of the way the words came out smoothly and not like the roar that was tearing up his throat. “Who’s your friend?” Then turning to the man, “I’m Antonio.”

“Declan.” Neither man extended his hand.

“Mr. Roarke’s wife works for the LAPD,” Charly gushed. “I met her yesterday at the briefing. I was telling Declan that I didn’t have a chance to fan girl over Dead Futures.”

“Gabby doesn’t like being reminded of that,” Roarke said.

“But why?” Charly asked. “She was so good in that series.” She glanced at Antonio. “Did you know that Detective Woodward used to be an actress?” Without waiting for his reply, she continued, “He brought my stuff! My own clothes. Finally.”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, you don’t like the ones I bought you?”

“You mean the ones Renata bought for me.”

Antonio sighed. “You have to school me on what you want. I can get you anything.”

“Garrison.” Declan walked past them and gave the man a strong handshake before yanking him in for a hug. “Great to have you back stateside. Gabby and I were worried.”

The two of them walked back to Antonio and Charly.

“My wife was looking for you,” Declan said, a bit too cheerfully to Antonio’s ears. “So was