Our sources tell us that shooting for El Traficante is set to start tomorrow amid major turmoil. It is believed that Gabriel Mendoza supporters have waged a small war against the government, opening up old wounds, as officials try to stop the protestors. During Mendoza’s heyday, it is reported that at least three flights filled to capacity with cocaine flew into the United States every day. For every million he made, he rewarded his employees and supporters, keeping them housed and fed. During this same time, the rest of Colombia was barely making ends meet, most living in poverty . . .

Annie’s shoulder burned and her face ached when she yawned.

How long had she been asleep?

Oh, fuck! The gala. She jumped upright, and then stopped moving when she felt her head spin from the fast movement and a sharp sting on her shoulder. Damn, Joey. Her pride had taken a nosedive and she was questioning her ability to do a good job guarding Rocco.

Slowly, this time, she moved off the bed. Shit, she looked down and realized that she was in just a T-shirt and had no recollection on how she got that way. Flashes of a bathtub, his rough strong hands washing her body, then him carrying her to bed. She could feel her face warm. He’d seen her naked.

Reaching for her phone, she slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom, looking at the time. Damn it, they had to leave in forty-five minutes.

Her hair was a rat’s nest, still damp. She leaned close to the bathroom mirror and touched the black and blue mark on her cheek, then looked at her shoulder and the angry red mark she was going to need to cover up.

Letting out a breath, she decided to start with her hair. Fumbling with a comb, she untangled the knots and then blow-dried it. She didn’t have any hair product, not that she had the first clue how to do any fancy styles, so leaving it in long waves was the best she could do.

Then she got to the real work. She took out all the makeup she’d bought the other day when they’d gone shopping and began applying it, making sure to pay special attention to her cheek. It took a while, but by the time she was finished, her face didn’t look puffy or bruised, and if it did, the red lipstick she put on distracted from it.

The dress Rocco had purchased for her yesterday hung in the closet, likely having been delivered earlier in the day. She unzipped the bag and hoped the alteration had gone flawlessly, because she didn’t have any time now to fix it.

She slid on her thigh holster and then tucked her ASEK, an army-issued knife, on the inside of her thigh, the Glock on the outside. Then she slipped on the long elegant black dress. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at how she looked.

Other than the director’s dinner party, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d dressed up. Too many years, and even then perhaps never this fancy. When she’d started sneaking around with Derek, she had dreams of evenings where she’d dress up and go out in public. Maybe not this formal, but . . .

She shook her head, it was time to work. Time to get all the distracting thoughts and memories out and turn her laser focus on. If there was a night where shit could go wrong, it would be tonight. The event was in an open space and most of the cast would be there. Things could get bad real fast.

As she applied a touch of lipstick she tried to ignore the tingle on her lips from the kiss she’d shared with Rocco last night. It had been a mistake. Something that couldn’t happen again. A mistake that couldn’t be repeated. The bruise on her face and shoulder should be a constant reminder.

With one final breath, she put her second Glock in her clutch, turned off the lights, and headed out to meet Rocco.

* * *

Rocco had checked up on Annabelle at least a dozen times in the last four hours, and she’d been completely passed out. He was so pissed at her brother he could barely contain himself. But then those last words she said kept replaying in his head over and over.

Maybe he’d misunderstood her. A virgin?

There was just no possible way. She was, by far, the sexiest woman he’d ever met. She oozed sex appeal. And the way she kissed, a virgin didn’t kiss that way, right?

Jesus, the way he’d spoken to her, eye-fucked her, propositioned her . . . he felt like a complete asshole now. If she was, in fact, telling the truth.

How could a woman who looked like that be a virgin? Things weren’t adding up.

He turned the television off, tired of hearing all the reports about Mendoza that were now in the forefront of the news. It was great publicity, and surely NHN was thrilled about it, but it was overkill. Mendoza had been the most famous drug lord of the early eighties but he probably hadn’t received as much publicity then as he had now.

As he was about to walk into the room to check up on Annie one last time, his phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Monroe, it’s Josef Clad.”

His anger rose again. He closed his bedroom door, not wanting Annie to overhear any of the conversation. “Monroe? You there?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m trying to reach Annie. Is everything okay? She left upset, but it’s not like her to—”

“You sonofabitch,” he snarled into the phone.

“Pardon?”

“How could you do that to your sister?”

“I didn’t do anything to her.” The man was practically growling. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Monroe.”

“I know more than you think. I know she’s hurt and you hurt her.”

“I’m not discussing this with you. You and I have other shit to hash out, like your paws all over my sister.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re my client and she’s my sister, it most certainly is my business. It didn’t look like a pretend kiss to me.”

“Once she came home all banged up, it became my business,” Rocco answered, ignoring the other part of the statement. He didn’t want to explain the kiss to Joey or anyone.

Annie’s brother let out a deep sigh. “Is she okay?”

“She’s asleep, I gave her some pain meds and it knocked her out.”

“Pain meds?” There was silence on the line. “There was . . . I mean, I know the guys took hits from her, but I thought she was okay. Pain meds? Annie doesn’t take pain meds.”

“Well, she has a black-and-blue face and what looks like a bullet wound on her shoulder. She says her ribs aren’t broken, but . . .”

“What?” Joey asked, softly, in shock. “Annie’s my baby sister—maybe I overdid it with the Gridiron, but I did it with good intentions. God, I would never intentionally hurt her. I want to talk to her, apologize.”

“She’s asleep, and I will not wake her up and neither will you.”

The silence was deafening. “I’ll send backup. You shouldn’t be—“

“No. You will not. And you will leave Annabelle alone. When she wakes up, I’ll give her the message and if she wants to call you, she will. Otherwise, if you set one foot on my property I will call the police.” With that, he hung up the phone.

No, Annabelle had had enough for one day. He refused for her to have to endure one more thing. Instead of checking on her again, he took a shower and got dressed, contemplating whether or not he should he even go to the event.

After he finished dressing, he sat on his couch to wait for the limo which would be there in about twenty minutes. He felt uncomfortable leaving her there sleeping, though. It was making him restless. What if she had a concussion, or needed more pain meds. With a huff, he stood to go check up on her again. As he rounded the corner, he saw her walk down the stairs.

It was a punch to the gut.

Every time he saw this woman something happened to him. It was as if all the air left his lungs.

“You look . . .” He couldn’t put the right words together. His mind was blown and his tongue was stuck. Annie had on a long, form-fitting dress. It was simple and . . . of course, black. Except for the yellow dress she wore to the dinner party, everything she wore was black. But it showcased her entire body, hugging her small waist and pushing up her breasts. Her hair was down and had some waves he’d never seen on her before. The only thing that had color was her bloodred lips. How he wanted to see those plump red lips wrapped around his hardening cock.

“Looking very dapper, Mr. Monroe.”

“You are breathtaking.” The blush that slowly built from the swell of her breast up her neck to her cheeks was a thing of beauty. He’d never get enough of seeing her shy and vulnerable. It was as if no one had ever complimented her . . . and it was odd because she was gorgeous. And, not just gorgeous to him, but gorgeous in a standard of beauty kind of way. Her facial features and her body . . . she was made to be looked at. Gawked at. Worshipped. But instead, compliments made her look a little uncomfortable so he went back to what she knew best. Humor. “Where could you possibly keep a weapon in that dress?”

A slow, cheeky smile spread across her face. She lifted her dress up to her thighs, and he thought he would pass out. He needed those thighs squeezing his head as he licked her. He’d never fantasized so hard about anything before in his life. Her pale lean legs went on and on and the muscle on her thigh was fucking winking at him with that deep indent of muscle. She pulled out her black weapon from a strap.

“Nice,” he croaked. Then she tucked it back in and shifted her leg and pulled an impressive knife from her inner thigh. “Well, I guess you’re ready.” He swallowed, hard.

“Always,” she said, dropping the dress back down to the floor.

For some reason it bothered him that she was ready to fight for him. To protect him. It was archaic, and if he voiced it she’d surely kick his ass and never speak to him again. But he wanted to be the one to protect her, not vice versa. And also, if she was carrying, that meant she was on his arm only as a ruse. She was just his bodyguard. It was, after all, what they had discussed, why they were living together, why she was going to the gala with him. But for some reason, somewhere deep inside, he wished it was different.

He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re good with makeup.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Who knew?”

Did she remember what she had confessed? He wanted to ask, to pry. To understand.

“You okay?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing together as she righted her dress. He had been unintentionally staring.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, shaking his head out of its stupor.

“Are you worried that I won’t have it under control? I’m fine, really. Sleeping it off helped. If anyone tries anything, I’m ready.” And damn, that just added to his thoughts. She didn’t get it, and she never would. He wasn’t worried about her ability to do her job, he was worried about her. But all her thoughts always came back to her work, and she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see that what they had was starting to become a lot more than just work.

“I’m sure you’re ready for anything, Tiger,” he said, grabbing his coat. “Let’s go.”

Something passed over her face but before he had a chance to ask, she began to walk.

He opened the door, but before she walked through she stopped and turned. “Thank you. For today, I mean. You were very sweet, taking care of me. Thank you.”

“Not even a thing, Annie.”

She smiled shyly and got into his car. The car ride over to the gala was quiet. She was on her phone typing away the entire time.

“Joey called while you were asleep.”

She shook her phone in his direction. “Yeah, I saw that. He texted me a dozen times and the last one says something about you being an asshole.”

Rocco chuckled.

If they ever decided to go for it, even if it was just a four-month arrangement, would he be able to handle her job? How could any man allow his woman to do this kind of work? How could he allow her to live with another man if she ever had a job with another male client? All of this was whirling in his mind and by the time the limo parked he was all worked up. But then his thoughts kept coming back to the “virgin” thing.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Is that really a good idea? I’m on bodyguard duty right now.”

He turned his body so that he was closer to her, almost caging her in. “Your tongue was in my mouth less than twenty-four hours ago. Do you do that with all your clients, Annabelle?”

Her eyes were saucers and he could see her swallowing before she narrowed them and shoved him away. “What do you want to know, Monroe?”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of job someone in a relationship can have.”

She turned her head, and looked out the window. “No, I suppose it’s not. But that’s not really a question.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s not. How would the man in your life fit into your lifestyle?”

“Hmm . . .” She thought it out. “I’m not really sure.”

“Okay, fair enough. How come you left the Army?”

“That’s a second question.”

“Yes, you’re good with numbers.”

She turned her head. “Ha ha. Listen, today is going to be important. Our first real public outing. You need to stay near me at all times.”

Obviously she was not going to tell him about the Army since she completely changed the subject.

“And you have to remember that today you have to pretend to be mine the entire time.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Annabelle. If we’re doing the professional thing right now, then let me remind you, I hired you because I wanted you to blend in, not stick out. You are my date, not my bodyguard. You do whatever you want to keep me safe, but you do it subtly. Remember, everything you do is being scrutinized. There’s paparazzi everywhere.”

“I wanted to do a quick sweep,” she said, in a cute way, almost whining. There even seemed to be a pout.

He laughed humorlessly, opening the door and stepping out. No fucking way was that happening. “Rocco,” she grunted as she stepped out of the car, his hand extended to her.

“Smile, Tiger. There’s the paparazzi,” he whispered in her ear, his mouth going a little too close to her neck. He saw how quickly she erupted in goose bumps. That made him come up with a plan. If he was going to be with Annie for the next few hours pretending to date, he was going to ham it up. Maybe she’d see him as someone worth taking a chance on. Maybe he could loosen her up enough to talk about that virgin thing.

With the newly formed plan, he placed his arm tight around her waist bringing her closer than necessary as the flashes and lights attacked them. With a fake smile she whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Monroe?”

“Working, Tiger.”

“No. I’m working. You’re trying to cop a cheap feel.”

He stopped as they were about to step into the hotel where the gala was taking place. He turned to her and roughly pulled her flush against his chest. “This is my job. My job is to act. My job is to flirt with the cameras. Give them what they want. Sell tickets. You’re my prop today. So you do your work, but don’t let it interfere with mine.” He kissed the corner of her lips. She looked completely and utterly discombobulated. Maybe his girl liked a little roughness and maybe she liked having him take charge sometimes.

* * *

What the hell was wrong with him?

She was going to kick his ass if he didn’t stop trying to manhandle her. If they weren’t up to their eyeballs in paparazzi, she’d twist his arm and arm bar his ass. When he’d first seen her half an hour ago, she had forgotten for a minute that this was work. He looked so sexy in his black tuxedo and the way he looked at her made her want to forget it all. It made her want to be the delicate woman who worried about garter belts and fake eyelashes just so he could always look at her the same way.

But then he’d asked about her gun and they’d gone back to business.

She stayed close to him as he introduced her to people she’d seen on television a dozen times and tried not to act starstruck. He also introduced her to people she’d never heard of, except from her research the last week.

Joey had sent her a copy of the list of invites, and she’d looked each and every person up. Computers were her forte, and it didn’t take long to go into most of the hundred or so guests’ emails, bank accounts, and social media. Nothing seemed off, so she wasn’t too worried. The open venue, the shit oad of paparazzi, and the straggling fans hanging outside were what concerned her most. Also, there was a small gathering of protestors on the east corner of the street, but it seemed to be only about seven or so people and they were all holding signs and staying away. ICS had sent some men to keep an eye on that group, and as far she could tell, it was still under control.

They were standing by the bar when Julia and Lawrence approached. “Julia,” Rocco said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and then shaking hands with Lawrence. “Lawrence.”

“Nice to see you again,” Lawrence said, extending his hand to Annie and kissing the top of her palm.

“You too, Lawrence.” And then she turned to Julia. “Hello, Julia.”

“Hello, Annette.”

“It’s Annabelle,” Rocco corrected, his voice curt.

“Oh, sorry. Annabelle,” the starlet said sourly, and smiled disingenuously at Annie.

When they turned to greet others, Annie whispered to Rocco. “Seriously? She’s a cunt. How could you possibly ever have dated her?”

He stepped back, his eyes wide, and chuckled. “Well, that is one dirty mouth, Tiger.” He kissed her cheek with a loud smack. “I like it.”

She smiled cheekily. “So, what happens at these galas, exactly?”

“Well, I donate a ton of money to something. There’s actually a silent auction over there, let’s go look.” He led her toward the long tables. “And we rub noses with people who don’t give a shit about me, we have a good meal, drink, dance, and then go home.”

“Sounds fun.”

“How are you feeling, by the way?”

She moved her neck side to side. “I’m okay. A little sore. My shoulder stings but it’s not too bad. The bath helped a lot.” She reached up on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, sweetly. “Thank you, Rocco. Really. It felt nice to be taken care of.”

“You already thanked me. It felt nice to take care of you. And I’d like to do it often, if you’d let me.”

She walked to the tables, looking down at the items being auctioned, contemplating what he was saying. The ball’s in your court, he’d said.

“See anything you like?” he asked.

She stopped and turned to him. “Yes.”

He looked down at the table, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yes? You see something you like? What? The couples massage?”

“No.” She waved off the items on the table. “No, not the auction. Forget the auction. Yes, I want to be with you. You said the ball’s in my court, that you’d like to take care of me . . . or whatever.” She felt so silly and awkward. “You know, if you still want to, I’m saying yes.”

He looked surprised and for a moment she was fairly certain he was going to call her crazy and run away, but a smile started slowly spreading across his face. His blue eyes shone and his dimple was out on full display. “I wasn’t expecting that. At least, not here, not now. But yes, of course, I still want you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She let out a sigh. “Okay, so . . . yeah, okay, that’s good.” She looked back to the auction items.

He chuckled, grabbed her hand, and spun her around, causing her to yelp. He pulled her firmly against his chest and, in front of the entire gala, kissed her on the lips so fiercely she had to arch back.

“So, maybe the couples massage?” he suggested, which made her laugh.

“No. I hate being touched by strangers. It’s creepy.”

“You really are crazy, crazy.”

“Maybe a little,” she said. “Oh, how about this? You should bid on this.”

He looked at the painting and laughed. It was a painting in watercolors of a pig with wings and a halo.

“No. But how about this? This, I’m getting.” He pointed to another painting, also done in watercolors but she couldn’t tell what it was.

She bent her head to the right and then the left, “The colors are beautiful, but what is it . . . oh, it’s a tiger.”

“I’m getting it.” He grabbed a pen and put a number on the bid sheet.

“Wait! How much did you just—”

“I told you, I’m getting it, so don’t worry how much. Enough to ensure I win. Either way, it’s for a good cause.”

Her eyes kept staring at the canvas. It was beautiful, the way the colors blended together, and how the animal looked strong yet solitary. Memories of Yagana rushed back in. Yagana had given her a number of different little animals made from rice, but the tiger was the last one and it had happened just moments before the little girl was murdered.

“What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer, mesmerized by the painting. “Annie?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Uh . . . what’s next?”

“Do you remember anything about this morning? The things you said?”

“That I said?” Her brows furrowed. “Uh . . . no, not really, I mean, I’m pretty sure you saw me naked, but I prefer not to talk about that.” Was there something she should’ve remembered? Shit, what the hell had happened? She chewed on her bottom lip. “What else? What did I say?” She tended to ramble on when she was nervous, but when she wasn’t lucid . . . what craziness had slipped her lips?

She watched him avert his eyes and crack his knuckles. Shit. What the hell had she said? He cracked his knuckles when he was frazzled or introspective. She searched her memory bank. Glimpses, like still photos, played back: he handed her pills, he rubbed her back, he carried her to the bed. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had felt warm against her, had taken care of her, had smelled so delicious . . .

“You said that when I call you Tiger it makes you both sad and happy.”

Oh. Interesting. She’d never said that to anyone before. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel weird about having told him. Actually, it felt nice to share something with another person, even if it didn’t make much sense to him, it was still a little bit of her truth. Of her past. Of things she never spoke to anyone about.

He was looking at her expectantly but she wasn’t ready to go into all of that. “That’s a long story.”

“Will you tell me about it, later?”

“It’s depressing. I prefer to let it go.”

“I prefer to know,” he said sweetly, smiling down at her.

“Annie. Annabelle.” The voice was low and urgent behind her. She looked back, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention.

“Ben?” Julia’s bodyguard was rushing to her and her whole body went on alert.

“We have a problem.” He didn’t say it loudly. They were trained not to cause panic, but the way he looked—tense shoulders, surveying eyes, rigid arms—there was definitely a crisis occurring somewhere.

She gave Rocco a hard look that she hoped told him to stay put before following Ben to the lobby area.

“This bag. It came out of nowhere.” There was a black backpack set against a marble column. It looked completely out of place in the formal setting. “It’s probably nothing, but . . .” Ben trailed off. She felt, rather than saw, Rocco following behind. Why couldn’t the man follow simple instructions?

Without touching the bag, she crouched down to inspect it closely. One of the handles had a patch with a yellow, blue, and red circle. “It’s the same emblem. The guy who threw the brick through the window had a tattoo with that same circle.” She stood. “Ben, get Julia and take Rocco too. I’ll call this in. Meet me in two minutes at the west emergency entrance.”

“Annabelle—” Rocco hissed.

“Out. Come on, hurry.” She pulled Rocco with her to the door, trying not to look panicked. “Please. Do as I say. No lip. This is my job. Get the hell out of here, right now. Go with Ben. For all I know this could be some sort of diversion.”

“What if it’s not? You can’t stay here. What if it’s a bomb?” The bag was dead center in the middle of the lavish lobby. It just sat in the marble floor looking out of place and ominous as hell. People walked past them as she stood up and looked down, Rocco standing close to her.

“I can’t leave all these people here,” she said quietly, not wanting to cause panic. She turned to Ben. “I need to call this in to the police and I need to get everyone out. You, Ben, need to get Julia and Lawrence out now,” she barked.

Before there was any additional protest, she ran back into the ballroom, phone in hand. “Joey, there’s an unidentified bag in the lobby. Get a team around the area. Call the cops. I’m clearing everyone out.”

Joey started throwing orders around while on the phone. “What kind of bag?”

“Black. Backpack. Canvas. Yellow, blue, and red circle patch on one of the straps, just like the tattoo from one of those kids.”

“Fuck. Okay, get out of there. Cops and SWAT are on their way.”

She ran toward the nearest security guard and explained what was happening, and he immediately began to mobilize. One of them ran to the stage were the band was still playing and took the microphone.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, there seems to be a little problem. If you’d kindly make your way to the emergency exits.”

People didn’t move at first, all looking confused and then slowly a few began to disperse. The first police officers began to arrive and one jumped up on to the stage and made an announcement. “Need everyone out. Quickly. Be careful, but start making your way right now to the exits. There’s one to your right and one to your left. Please avoid the front.” Then other officers began to shuffle a confused mob out.

“Corporal Annabelle Clad of the US Army, I’m the one that called this in. I was here as a bodyguard and my colleague noticed the bag.”

The man extended his hand. “Captain Hill,” he said by means of introduction. “Let’s get you out of here. SWAT is checking on everything, we need to go outside.”

She followed the captain outside. “Another member of my team saw the bag. What caught my attention was the yellow, blue, and red circle on the strap. My client, Rocco Monroe, has been receiving threats.”

“I’ve seen it on the news.”

“There was some vandalism done to his property and the kids who did it had a tattoo that matched the symbol on the backpack. I’m pretty sure it’s all related.”

“We’ll look into it. As far as you know are the kids in jail?”

“They’re out on bail. My brother is the owner of ICS, where I work, and he confirmed it a few minutes ago. There must be a group of people in on this. That’s my thought, at least.”

The officer made some notes on a pad and nodded. “Thank you for your assistance. We’ve got it from here, Ms. Clad.”

“Here’s my card, please keep us posted.” She extended her hand and they shook hands like colleagues.

“Will do.”

Jax and Joey were out front speaking with other officers when she walked out. “You don’t answer your goddamn phone,” Joey barked when he saw her.

“I was kind of busy with a bomb!”

“And you were what . . . just hanging out? Waiting for it to detonate?”

“No, I was making sure everyone cleared out.”

“I swear to God, you’re going to give me a heart attack. Let’s go.”

She followed the others out. “So brief us,” Jax said.

“Nothing new to report. Black bag. Could be nothing. Could be something. I want to research that symbol a little more, though. Where’d Ben take Monroe?”

“They’re at ICS.”

The drive back to headquarters was quiet, Jax driving and Joey and Annie on their phones texting.

When they arrived, Rocco was pacing back and forth. “Woman, you are seriously going to give me a fucking heart attack.”

“Join the club,” Joey mumbled.

Confused, Julia chimed in. “So wait? Are you his bodyguard? I thought you two were dating. This makes more sense.”

Annie glared at the woman but decided it wasn’t worth an argument.

“I’d prefer we kept it low key, Jules. Can you do that?” Rocco asked, sweetly, although it looked as if he was biting his tongue.

“Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Joey turned to Ben. “You can take Julia and Lawrence home. Stay close, no going out today until we know what was in the bag.” Julia huffed and whined as Lawrence escorted her out of ICS with Ben following closely behind, still alert.

“Since we don’t know whether the threat is directed at you personally or at the movie itself, I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed here at the compound.” Joey suggested to Rocco.

“No,” Rocco said flatly.

“Rock, Joey’s right on this one. It’s not safe.”

“I’m not going to be driven out of my own house.”

“Monroe—”

Annie stepped between the two tense men. “Let’s go have dinner nearby since we didn’t get to eat. Wait and see what the police say and then we’ll make a decision.”

Joey crossed his arms and shook his head slowly. “I don’t like it.”

“What’s new?” Annie replied, then turned to Rocco. “There’s an Italian restaurant right around the corner. We can walk.”

“Sounds good.” He took her hand, ignoring the way Joey was looking at them, and walked out.

He grasped her hand firmly and as soon as they were out the door he stopped, forcing her to turn. “Ow!” She pulled her hand away from his grip and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Now that we’re alone,” he said, “I have to tell you . . . I’m fucking pissed and scared and just fucked up in the head. You stayed behind. And before you say anything. I know it’s your job, I know you’re trained, but it doesn’t mean I like it.”

What the hell did he think she’d do? She’d promised not to lock him out again, so long as he cooperated. But she’d never promised not to help save people in danger. Maybe the reason she hadn’t had a relationship after Derek wasn’t because she was scared to open up her heart again but because her work consumed her too much. Apparently men couldn’t handle her job. It had never really occurred to her. The only relationship she’d had was with Derek, and he’d understood military life because he was a military man. But for a civilian like Rocco, his urge to protect her trumped her need to save all the people who were in that room. And how selfish and fucked up it was that it felt good to be that important to him? That he cared that much for her, that he wanted to protect her and keep her out of harm’s way?

But it also scared the hell out of her, because she wasn’t made that way. She would always run into danger if it meant saving even one person. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization.

“I don’t know what to say, Rock.” She reached for him and ran her palm down his cheek. It had been the first time she’d initiated such an intimate touch. But she needed to touch him. He had to understand that she was feeling strong things for him, but that those feelings didn’t mean she’d stop doing what she needed to do to help others. “This is me. You’re going to have to accept that I’m the kind of girl who runs into danger, not away from it. The kind of girl who has a knife and a gun tucked in her clothes at all times.”

He didn’t move or even react to her touch. He just stood still like a statue. “I’m trying really hard, Annie. I really am.”

“Are you? Because we keep coming back to this same problem.”

He closed his eyes and melted a bit into her touch. Then he took her hand on his cheek and kissed her palm.

“Give me time to figure this out. It’s hard to be with a woman like you. And I don’t mean it in a bad way, Annie. I mean it in a fuck, when will I lose her, when will she get hurt way. If that makes sense.”

“I get it.” And she did. But he was going to have to come to terms with it. It wasn’t something she could change about herself. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

They sat in a small restaurant called La Nonna, in a corner table in the back. They were way overdressed, but for some reason, maybe because of the dim lights and the cheesy candlelight, it felt romantic.

“So do I get to see you chew tonight?”

She snorted and then covered her mouth. “Shut it. I ate crème brûlée the other night and unless they have a lasagna smoothie, yes, I’ll be chewing my food tonight.”

The server came by and asked for their drink order. “Wine?” Rocco asked her.

“On duty,” she answered. “I’ll have iced tea, please.”

“I’ll have a Peroni.”

The server walked away. “So, our first date.”

“Very classy, Monroe. I get a tux and everything.”

“Whatever it takes.” He gave her a toothy smile.

“To get into my pants, huh?”

There was an odd expression on his face, one she hadn’t seen before. Embarrassment, maybe?

“What?”

“Can we get back to this morning? You were very chatty.”

“Chatty? What do you mean? About the tiger thing? It’s a depressing story, Rocco. I really prefer not to talk about it.”

“No, not just that. There was more.”

“More?” She worried the napkin in her lap. What the hell had she said?

“A lot more.” He took a big drink of his water. “Earlier, when you said you wanted to be together, what exactly did you mean, Annabelle?” The drinks arrived at that moment and the server took their order. “More kissing? Dating? Sex? What did you mean?” She noted an implication in his tone as if he knew something and was trying to pry it out of her.

“Yes. All of the above, I guess—Oh!” Then the memory hit her. Sex. They’d discussed sex. Well, not so much discussed but she’d volunteered a lot more information than she should’ve. “Oh my God.” She felt her cheeks flame and she thought she would throw up.

“I guess you remember.”

She looked down, not wanting to make eye contact. Why hadn’t he just spit it out? He’d let her go through the entire stressful day knowing this and not mentioning it. “I am mortified.”

“Don’t be. Please. I’m glad you told me. If anything, I’m mortified. The things I said to you were inappropriate.”

She looked down at the bread the waiter had brought to the table and busied herself violently buttering it. “Can you look at me, please?” Rocco asked.

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.”

He pulled the bread she was massacring out of her hand. “Annabelle . . .”

“Can we just pretend none of that happened?” Please say yes. Please say yes. How wonderful would it be if someone yelled fire right now!

With his thumb and forefinger he gripped her chin and moved her head up to meet his eyes. “No, we can’t. Look at me. Open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, she did. Slowly. One eye at a time. His soft gaze was on her and it made her heart thunder. She liked when those blue eyes were soft and full of adoration but not when those same eyes looked at her with pity. And right now he looked like he felt sorry for her, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Is it true? Are you a virgin?”

She groaned and then nodded, hating feeling insecure and unsure.

“How’s that possible? I mean, you’re twenty-seven years old, and you’re absolutely stunning. And I say that as a man with eyes, not as a man who’s hitting on you. Although, please, be aware, I’m hitting on you. I’ve been doing that since we met.”

She rolled her eyes but a smile escaped her lips. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Which brings me to that. I feel like a dick for the things I said to you. I shouldn’t . . . I mean, I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

Abruptly, she sat up. Ugh! Yes, it was pity on his face and she didn’t like it one bit. “See. That’s what I don’t want you to do. That’s why I’ve never said that out loud. I don’t want you totreat me differently. Don’t start walking on eggshells around me. You’re a perverted dirty old man, don’t change because you think you’ll shock my sensibilities.” Of all the things she was beginning to like about him, his candor and ability to be open was her favorite. He wore his heart on his sleeve and she didn’t want him having to measure his comments in order to protect her innocence.

He sat back and crossed his arms playfully. “Hey! I’m not an old man.”

“So you admit you’re perverted and dirty.”

“I’m only ten years older than you,” he said, avoiding the other part of the question. “You haven’t answered my question. Why are you a virgin?”

“It’s really none of your business.”

“Well, if you want me to sleep with you, it kinda is.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have a lot of time.”

“Can we eat first?” she asked as the food arrived. She’d ordered lasagna and he’d ordered lobster ravioli.

“I’m not letting you off the hook, crazy,” he said, stabbing a ravioli and sticking it in his mouth. “So good. How did I not know this place existed?”

“Why would you? It’s a hole in the wall.”

“It’s great.”

As they dug into her food, her phone rang. Thank God. Saved by the phone. Annabelle tried to not let her relief show. “It’s Joey. I need to take this.”

“Go for it,” he said with a mouthful of food.

“What’s up, Joe?”

“False alarm. It was a bunch of articles and propaganda, mostly in Spanish, of all the great things Mendoza accomplished. It even included stats and graphs.”

“That’s it, nothing more?”

“There was a note that said: Americans not welcome.”

“Well, that’s ominous.”

“I think they just want to scare the studio into not making this movie.” Joey said.

So far they’d had the brick through the window and now a bag of papers. There was a real threat, that wasn’t in question, but it wasn’t grave enough that she’d need backup. She could handle it. “So, we’ll head home after dinner, then.”

“Annie, as your older brother, I have to say, I don’t like this.” He said it softly. “He’s an actor. Whatever is happening between you two, remember that. You’ve seen how he treats women. He’s a player, a forever bachelor. You don’t want to be just another notch.”

“Is your concern over his safety or my virtue?”

“Annie, I’m just worried about you.”

“I appreciate that, Joey. I really do. But it’s really not your problem I’m a big girl, Joe. I got this.”

“Fine. But I don’t like it and I don’t trust him.”

“Noted,” she said, before hanging up. God, having older brothers sucked! It was also oddly sweet.

“So what happened?” Rocco asked, reaching to her plate to snag a piece of lasagna.

“Hey!” she yelled, stopping his fork. “I’m starving.”

“There’s no way you’re going to eat all that.”

“Wanna bet?” She began to eat, ravenous. “So,” she said with a mouthful. “There was nothing concerning in the bag. Just a bunch of propaganda about Mendoza. We can go back to your house.” It wasn’t that it was not concerning. A bag full of clippings left in the middle of a lobby, secretly, was never good. But if they’d wanted to hurt Rocco, they wouldn’t have filled that bag with papers.

“This isn’t the only movie that gets a lot of heat. Remember that Mel Gibson movie about Jesus? Or when Madonna was cast to play Evita Peron?”

“If you say so.” She shrugged and took another bite. “You’re the actor, not me.”

He had inhaled his food and was twirling the fork with his fingers. “There was more to that conversation. You guys were talking about me.”

She finished chewing and then swallowed as he looked at her, eager to hear the rest of it. “He said you’re an actor and I’m going to get hurt.”

“He thinks I’d lead you on? That I’m just . . . acting? Basically, that I’m faking my way into your pants?”

She stopped eating and leaned forward to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “He’s just worried, Rocco.” His jaw clenched and he cracked the knuckles of his forefinger and thumb, loudly. How he hadn’t broken a joint, she’d never know. “If you think I’d sleep with you—use you somehow—you don’t know me at all. I would never do that. Not to you or anyone else. I thought you’d knew me a little better than that.”

She let go of of her fork and it clanked loudly against her plate. “No. I know that. You asked me what he said, and I’m telling you. But I don’t think that at all. You’ve been nothing but truthful. It’s hard to ignore the things I’ve read about you in the media, but I’m trying.”

“If I have to deal with your job, you have to deal with mine. And mine entails a lot of bullshit lies from the press.”

“I understand.” She sighed, reached across the table, and placed her hand over his. “You’re right.”

He lifted her hand and kissed each finger in a completely sweet way that left her tingling.

He looked down at her empty plate. “I’m impressed. Do you want anything else? Dessert? Coffee?”

She sat back and patted her full belly. “No. I’m good.”

He signaled for the server to bring their check, and when she tried to take out money, he stopped her. “Come on, let’s go. I want to hear all your secrets.”

She groaned into his chest as he helped her out of the booth.

“Oh man, we don’t have a car.” They’d gone to the gala in a limo and then to ICS with Ben.

“Uber?” she suggested. “Or we can call one of the guys to take us.”

“No. Uber,” he said taking out his phone.

The ride was fast and she sat close to him, tucked under his shoulder. She kept fumbling with her hair and at one point he took her wrist and stopped her. “Stop. Relax,” he said, then he pulled her in closer and kissed the top of her head. The rest of the trip back was mostly silent, as her mind reeled with what Joey had said.

When she’d taken the job, she’d sworn to Joey and to herself she wouldn’t get attached to Rocco and definitely she wouldn’t sleep with him. But in the short time they’d known each other, she’d already told him so much about herself. Things she never shared. He was the only person who knew she was a virgin, for crying out loud.

And here she was, in the same place she’d been all those years ago . . . about to put her career on the line for a man.

Was he worth it?

* * *

“Wait here,” she said, practically jumping out of the car while forcing him to stay outside of his own home.

He was too tired to argue, and he knew he wasn’t going to win, unless he literally picked her up and carried her inside. But even then, with her ninja skills, it was likely he’d end up on his ass. So, he stayed put. Anyway, he was certain everything was going to be okay, with the state-of-the-art security system he had upgraded at her recommendation and the new neighborhood patrol that drove around periodically. He wondered if some of the extra security came with the security package NHN was paying for, or if that was an added benefit of having the owner be a protective older brother.

Ten minutes later, the door opened.

“Okay, all good. Come on.”

She held the door open, her weapon by her side, looking all sorts of sexy with those long-ass legs and sexy shoes. His eyes stayed on the way the little buckle pressed softly against her delicate ankles. “Those shoes don’t seem conducive to sweeping my house, Tiger.”

She lifted the dress slightly and swirled around on her sky-high stilettos. “You’d be surprised by what a woman in heels can achieve, Monroe.” It was that flirty banter he loved so much. It didn’t always come out, but when it did, it was spectacular.

Once they were inside and the doors were locked, she turned to him. “Go on up, I’ll secure the rest of the house.”

She didn’t give him much time to say anything before she moved to the next room. They still needed to talk, and there was no way she’d be able to give him her full attention if she hadn’t done her job first. So he went to his room and changed out of his tux, brushed his teeth and washed his face, and got ready for bed. When he was done, he went downstairs and uncorked a bottle of wine, grabbed two glasses, and went up to her room.

He knocked. “Come in!” she yelled from the bathroom. “One second.”

He poured two glasses, set the bottle on the nightstand, and took a seat on one of the loveseats across the bed.

Wiping her face with a towel she stepped out of the bathroom. She had on a T-shirt that went to her knees and long fuzzy socks, her hair was in a knot on top of her head, and her skin was free of all makeup. She looked years younger. In fact, too young.

“What’s that?” she signaled to the glasses with her chin as she tossed the towel in the hamper.

“You’re off duty.” He handed her a glass. “And we need to talk. No more getting out of it.”

She sat on the edge of the bed in front of him and tried to hand the glass back. “First of all, I’m never off duty. I can’t drink and work. And second, talking while drunk isn’t the answer. Something you should know about me. I rarely drink, but when I get drunk I’m a sappy crying drunk.”

“Really? Interesting. Look forward to seeing that someday. Regardless, you’re not going to get drunk. It’s one glass. It’s been a long day. It feels like three days ago since you went to ICS and came back all beat up.”

“It feels like it,” she agreed.

“The alarm is on, I’m in the same room as you, I’m sure you have an arsenal of weapons within arms’ reach. Come on, loosen up. On Monday things are going to get intense. Tonight may be the last time you can relax.”

She looked at him for a moment, then to the red wine, as if deciding. Finally he could see her shoulders relax a little as she took a sip. “Okay, so what do you want to talk about?”

“You know what I want to talk about. Why are you a virgin?”

She gulped down the rest of the wine and flung herself back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and covering her face. “I have a gun under the mattress. Right side. Pull it out and shoot me with it, please.”

He chuckled, took her glass from her hand and put it aside, then sat next to her on the bed. “Come on, sit up. Talk to me.”

“I was in love once,” she began. He felt a stab of jealousy as she said it. He knew her enough to know she wasn’t the kind of woman to give her heart to just anyone. So this guy must’ve been a big deal. He hated him immediately. “I was an MP in the army. Derek was my commanding officer. Dating him was off limits, but it happened. You’re out there, day in and day out, living the same experiences, feeling the same things, and it just happens. We snuck around for about six months. I was terrified of getting caught, he could’ve been demoted, stripped of his position, fined . . . not to mention, it’s hard enough for a woman in the military, but a woman in the line of fire was very rare. The only reason I was allowed there was because of my MP status. I didn’t want to be that stereotype—the girl who was infatuated with her superior.”

She had goose bumps on her arm, so he lifted the covers and they both slid under. He rubbed her arms until she was warm. “But were you in a relationship? Or was it just a one-sided thing?”

Her hands were palm to palm under her face. He had his elbow to the bed and his face on his palm.

“No, it wasn’t one-sided. He was ready to put his entire career on the line to be with me. He loved me. A lot. He told me often.”

“And you never had sex with him?” he said, skeptically.

“Remember that I grew up with four brothers. I was never the girly-girl who liked boys. I was the tomboy who liked to compete with the boys. I enlisted as soon as I could. When was I going to have sex, exactly? During basic? In a tent in Afghanistan? I was ready, though, I wanted it to be Derek and it likely would have been, but then he was killed during a surprise attack while we were on foot patrol. He died right in front of my eyes.” She had a lump in her throat as she spoke. She thought about it all the time but never voiced it. Except this same afternoon to Joey. It hurt to talk about it.

“What? Fuck, Annabelle.”

“So.” She gulped, trying to hold back her tears. “There was this little girl, nine years old, Yagana was her name. She would visit us every time we were around. So beautiful.” Her mind drifted to the brown-haired, brown-eyed little girl—tattered shoes, ragged clothes, but with the most mesmerizing and joyful smile Annabelle had ever known. “A girl born into the worst of circumstances. Bombings all around her, most of her family dead, she was always so happy. She would make me little figurines out of uncooked rice and I’d give her chocolate every time I received a care package from home. I started waiting for her to come visit me every day when we did our daily foot patrols.”

“This is not going to end well, is it?”

She shook her head and he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Yagana made me this little tiger, the size of my palm, the last time I saw her. She would say I was a tiger in the cutest broken English. Remember, in her culture women like me weren’t the norm. Normally they were looked down upon and didn’t have the same rights as men. That day Derek was on the other side of the street. It was a street we’d walked through a dozen times. Street vendors everywhere. Most of the people were good people, Rocco. Really, they embraced us with open arms. All they want is a life where they can raise their children and find happiness and feel safe. The same things we all want. But three men in vests came out of nowhere. I pulled out my weapon and shot as soon as I realized what was happening, but it was no use. There were three of them. All I could do was cover Yagana when things went to hell, but . . .” she shook her head and swallowed. She was obviously trying to push down the tears. “But it did no use. We flew back across the street, my back hit something hard, and I blacked out.”

He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But he also wanted to shake her and yell at her to let it all out. Tell her it was okay to cry. That showing emotions did not make her weak. He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead and then the top of her head. She’d been through so much. Things he could never even begin to imagine. “Jesus Christ.”

He thought she had been done talking but she continued. He couldn’t see her face from this angle, but she spoke as if she was lost in that moment those years back, reliving it as she told it. He wondered how many people had she said this to. “When I came to, we were trapped, buried under the rubble.” She paused. “I can still remember the smell of acrid smoke, the dull silence around me. I was in and out of consciousness for almost three days, or so they tell me. I tried to dig us out. Yagana survived the initial blast. She was still alive, her little tiny body bleeding. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get us out; I couldn’t save her. I held her for almost three days until they dug me out of the rubble.”

He wanted to ask but at the same time he was terrified, already knowing what the answer was going to be. “And Derek?”

“He died instantly from the first explosion. I don’t remember how I made it back to the base. Apparently I was in some sort of catatonic state of shock. My eardrums popped and I couldn’t hear anything. Eventually, I snapped out of it. My entire team, including Derek, died. I was the only survivor. And since to the world we were nothing more than friends, colleagues, I wasn’t informed about much. His remains were sent back to Kentucky where his family lived and that was that.”

“That was that?” His mouth hung open and he pushed her back a little to look at her face. Her eyes were wet. “Don’t you miss him? You said you were in love with him.”

“It’s weird. I had a lot of therapy after that, and I somehow learned to compartmentalize Derek’s death. It feels as if it was another lifetime ago instead of six years. I feel oddly disconnected from it. It hurt a lot when it happened, and I was deeply depressed. The doctors said it was PTSD, but I knew it was the loss of Derek that was killing me.”

“But you didn’t tell your therapist about Derek?”

“No. For the first time today, I told Joey. He doesn’t know it was a commanding officer, just that I was in love and he died. Before that, I had never told anyone. It felt wrong to defile his legacy in that way. He was a revered high-ranking commander of the US Army. If it had come out that he was dating me, it would have tainted his memory.”

“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

She sat up on the bed, crossed her legs, and faced him. She looked comfortable and so very young sitting there in a T-shirt without any makeup, just chatting. How he wished they would have been talking about anything else but this. “You know, when my father died, I didn’t think my mom would be able to go on. She’d see something that reminded her of him, a commercial, his favorite mug, whatever, and she’d cry for hours. They’d made so many memories. I never had that with Derek. We snuck around. Our relationship consisted of stolen kisses and late night conversations in his bunk. But that routine you miss when the person’s gone, the familiar things that remind you of a good time, I didn’t really have that with him. Maybe I wasn’t even in love with him. Don’t get me wrong, it still hurts when I talk about him or when I think about him, and I do miss him. We talked a lot and I really think he was my best friend. But I think I’m okay. Maybe that sounds callous, but . . .”

“I’m in awe of you, Annabelle.” He rolled onto his back and clasped his fingers behind his neck. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re stronger than anyone I know. I knew that before, but I’m sure of it now.”

She turned off the bedside lamp and got into bed, tucking her head on his shoulder like they’d done this a million times. “Strong? Did you hear what I just said? I had a lot of therapy. And I have horrible nightmares.”

“You’re strong. And beautiful.”

“And a little crazy and a lot intense.”

“Turns out I’m a big fan of crazy and intense.”

“Starting up something with you. . . . it would be my second time dating someone off-limits, and the first time—well, it didn’t work out well for me or him.”

“It’ll work out. Just trust me,” he whispered. His eyes were drooping and her voice was trailing off. The events of the day were starting to take their toll. He didn’t want to leave. It felt nice having her close this way. She must’ve read his mind, because she whispered, almost dreamily, “Don’t go.”

He smiled to himself, so happy to hear her say that. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her in even closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed. He’d been drifting off to sleep but there was so much swirling around in his mind. Her breathing was even and soft and he wasn’t sure if she was still awake. “You scare me,” he whispered.

He felt her tense up. “Me? I’ve never slept with a man before. With Derek he always snuck out at some point. This is all new to me. But you, you’re the heartthrob playboy with all the experience.” Her voice was groggy with sleep.

“What am I supposed to do with you now?” he said softly, feeling for her hand under the blanket and lacing it with his. “I want you so much I can’t stand it, but you deserve more than this. More than four months. For your first time, you deserve . . . someone else.”

“You’ve put up with my temper, my bossing you around, my brother being an ass, my drugged-up confessions . . . Rocco, if anything, you deserve better.” She kissed his chest, and then went back to the little nook under his shoulder. “Sleep well, Rocco.”

“Goodnight, little Tiger.”