Mine to Hold

Gritting his teeth, he watched as Xander raised her hand to his lips. “Los Angeles has some incredibly beautiful women.”



“Many of whom are taken. I’m Tyler.” He inserted himself between Xander and Del and sent the guy a don’t-fuck-with-me glare.



“What a shame.” Xander looked around his shoulder at Del and winked.



Del raised a delicate dark brow. “I’m also a reporter.”



In a lightning-fast move, Xander backed away from Del. His playful grin fell away.



“I’ve never written about you,” she clarified.



“Keep it that way,” Xander demanded. “Let’s go. I’ve had a brief conversation with Jack about your situation. Being seen in public might be risky for you now. Carlson may be able to track your movements through security or traffic cameras. Normally, this place is monitored, but this is a small commuter airport, and I managed to arrange for a ten-minute camera . . . malfunction.”



He’d covered the important angles. Tyler had to give him that. But after watching Eric maul Del today, he’d be a lot happier not to have to fight off Xander, too.



A moment later, a pristine black limousine pulled up. A beautiful woman with pale hair in a professional twist and a skirt so short it was nearly illegal exited the vehicle and opened the back door for them. “Mr. Santiago.”



“Karissa.” Xander nodded as he approached and dropped a hand on her ass. “Nice to see you.”



The driver’s expression didn’t change, but her body softened. She leaned closer. Clearly, the guy got around a lot.



Tyler grabbed Del’s hand and led her inside. A moment later, he transferred their few pieces of luggage and other personal belongings into the limo and abandoned the car. He climbed in to find Xander handing Del a glass of champagne.



“What the hell are we celebrating?” Tyler asked.



Xander’s mobile phone began ringing. “That you’re about to disappear until you’re good and ready for Carlson to find you.”



“You know him?” Del demanded.



“Not personally, but nothing I hear is good. I’ve got my network digging.” Xander pressed a button on his phone with a sigh. “Javier, I’ve been on the ground for less than twenty minutes. What?”



Tyler did his best to zone out on Xander’s conversation. He looped an arm around Del’s shoulders and pulled her into him. They sank together into the buttery leather seats. The anonymity that the tinted windows provided should have made Tyler relax a little, but the need to pound something or someone was still jacking with his mood.



Fuck, he had to put a lid on it. Del didn’t need more aggression now.



“You okay?” he whispered to her.



She nodded. “Long, tough day.”



“I’m here for you, whatever you need.”



Del turned and slanted those blue eyes at him, dark like an endless sea. He fought back the urge to tear off her panties, plant his head between her legs, and make her come until next week. She looked a bit like she wanted to argue about his commitment—or lack thereof—again, and Tyler steeled himself, tamped down his anger. Did she not understand that after the showdown with Eric and getting a sweet taste of her mouth, he was on an adrenaline high?



“No,” Xander insisted into the phone. “You don’t need another liter of vodka. You need to get your head out of your ass. Christ, it’s barely five o’clock in the afternoon.” He paused, listened. “I know that I’m your brother, not your fucking keeper. But you have to accept that. Francesca is gone, and I’m sorry. But she was bad for you. You need to move on.”



The bite in the other man’s tone made Tyler look up. So Mr. Perfect didn’t have a perfect life after all.



Xander grimaced with concern and gripped the phone. “I’ll be there in an hour. Just . . . don’t do anything. Promise me.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m taking you to Látigo tonight. No arguments. You’ll learn some self-discipline, even if I have to shove it down your throat.”



Látigo? Tyler knew enough Spanish from working for the LAPD to translate. It meant whip. Did that mean Xander intended to take his brother to a BDSM club? To train him as a Dom? He’d learned enough from listening to Jack, Hunter, and Logan over the last two years to suspect so.



The call ended, and Xander pocketed his phone. “Sorry.”



“Everything all right with your brother?” Del asked. “I’ve read about his wife’s disappearance. Has anyone seen her since that security footage captured her in Aruba?”



“Do you want to know as a reporter or a friend?” Xander challenged.



“She’s just a kind person asking a question because she gives a shit,” Tyler growled.



“I would never betray someone trying to help me stay alive, especially for a story.” Del laid a gentle hand on Xander’s.



Tyler tried not to see red and rip her away, then rearrange Xander’s face beyond all recognition. That response might be overkill for the situation. Maybe.



“Not all of your brethren share your scruples.” He sipped his champagne, then grimaced and set it aside. “Francesca was a headcase and a bitch, and Javier was too busy to rein her in, so she ran wild. He seems dead inside, and I don’t know how to save him. But that’s my problem. You have enough of your own.”



Xander pasted on a stiff smile, and an uncomfortable silence filled the car as the limo driver headed east on I-10.



“Where are we going?” Tyler asked. He realized that he didn’t sound terribly friendly, but he was having a hard time reversing that. The day had been awful. His mood was worse, and he needed to have Del all to himself, even if he did nothing more than cuddle her and reassure himself that she was safe and okay.



“I recently purchased a little place for some privacy. It’s got nice views of the city. The deed is in a corporation’s name. It keeps the press away.” Xander leveled a stare at Del. “So even if anyone manages to connect you two to me, no one will be able to guess that you’re there.”



Again, he had all the angles covered. Tyler had to respect that.



Xander withdrew his phone again, dialed a number, and in less than three minutes, made the security cameras at the facility disappear for the next two days. Tyler wished he could pull that trick out of his bag. Money talked, and he supposed that since Xander’s bank account equaled a small nation’s GDP, he could probably shout with a bullhorn all day long.



Through the ever-heavy L.A. traffic, they wended their way up the 405 freeway, then disappeared into the very high-rent district, up in the hills. It wasn’t long before a big wrought-iron gate opened. Lush bushes and flowers, along with well-placed trees, obscured whatever building lay beyond. Tyler had a feeling from the swank of the address alone and the size of the houses that this place would be anything but little.



The limo surged up the private driveway until a huge building came into view. The place was purely old Hollywood with a modern twist. A golden-hued stucco design with high arches, graceful porticos, and a shitload of windows. Palm trees, a lawn manicured within an inch of its life, and a natural stone fountain in the middle of the circular drive all screamed wealth. Del shrank back against him, looking a bit daunted. Hell, he’d grown up in a rusted trailer with a sagging floor and a single mother who chain smoked. What was he doing here?



Keeping Delaney safe. Tyler tightened his arm around her.



Xander tossed him a key. Tyler caught it in his fist.



“It’s an old hotel that’s been converted into eight units. You’re in the penthouse. I’ve got to go deal with my brother,” the other man said, clearly not looking forward to it. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll check in with you as soon as I can.”



“Thank you,” Del said. “We’ll get out of your hair quickly.”



“Take all the time you need. I don’t keep much of a staff here, just a part-time maid. She can cook in a pinch. I’ll bunk with my brother. He probably needs the company. And if he gets on my nerves too much, the family house has sixteen bedrooms. I’m sure I can find one to suit me.” Xander smiled faintly.



“I hope all goes well with Javier. Maybe a pep talk will—”



“He doesn’t need a pep talk. He needs an intervention, and I’ll have to find at least one other person on this planet who doesn’t think he’s a ruthless cutthroat and actually gives a shit if he lives before I can stage one.” Xander sighed. “Stay safe. Call me if you need anything.”



“Thanks, man.” Tyler shook Xander’s hand, but only because he hadn’t tried too hard to seduce Del.



The driver opened the back door, and before Tyler could climb out, the woman had removed their bags from the trunk. Key in hand, Tyler hauled them inside, Del in tow. The limo, with Xander inside, pulled away.



Tyler paced during the slow, silent elevator ride to the top of the eight-story building. It was either that or rip Del’s clothes off and impale her on his wretchedly hard cock. The thought just made him harder. Damn it, she didn’t need to be attacked twice today.



Fresh off the elevator, he approached a wall covered in natural stone. He dragged their luggage across the floor lined with rich, dark hardwoods, then inserted the key into the lone door. A moment later, the latch gave way, and he pushed inside.



Tyler’s jaw dropped. The hardwood floor extended into the unit, but the rest of the room was a stark, modern white—the walls, the plush sofas, the cushy throw rug. A pewter side table, a dark wicker ottoman, a brushed silver statute of a half-naked woman, her head thrown back in passion, filled the space. Yeah, there was a flat screen TV nearly as big as the wall itself, and in the distance, he saw a dining room and a kitchen, but the main attraction in this room was the nearly solid wall of windows that overlooked the city. The views were sick and went on forever. The place had to have cost millions.



Outside the French doors, a shaded terrace lined the back of the house. A mission-style table with chunky chairs and a built-in outdoor kitchen made the perfect place to enjoy the infinity edge pool. Wow, must be nice to finish laps and look out over the Wilshire District, see the city at work and play. It sure beat the hell out of the crappy apartment he’d had when he’d lived here.



“Oh my God,” Del breathed behind him. “Is it wrong that I want to swim in that pool?”



“No.” Hell, if she was getting in the water, Tyler wanted to get in with her—and do a whole lot more than swim.



Damn it, he had to stop thinking about sex. It wasn’t going to happen tonight. She needed some time, and he needed to get that through his thick skull.



“We’ll swim tonight, if you want.”



“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”



And just like that, Tyler got even harder. If his T-shirt wasn’t covering that up, it’d be fucking obvious for sure.



“Another reason to wait until dark. Cuts down on the possibility of any sort of aerial surveillance.”



“Didn’t think of that.” She looked shaken. “I should focus on the case, anyway. I need to spend some time jotting down all the details I can remember so I can go back to some of my key informants and interview them again.”



Bright, driven, dedicated—everything about Del just made Tyler want her more. “Are you up for that?”



She shrugged. “I have to be.”



Good point.



“I’ll be right back,” he murmured and took the luggage down the unit’s main hallway.



After a quick glance through the rest of the rooms, Tyler found one guest bed and bathroom, a fully stocked home gym, a home office, and a locked door on one side of the hall. On the other, a master suite, complete with the most opulent bathroom he’d ever seen and more endless city views. He set their luggage in the room. She might want to sleep alone, but that wasn’t happening. He’d do his damndest not to touch her until she was no longer shaken by Eric’s rough treatment, but he wasn’t leaving her in another room without protection.



Ambling back down the hall, he found Del standing in front of the windows, her arms wrapped around her like she was cold. She stared out into the afternoon, her profile looking pensive.



Tyler walked up behind her, wanting so badly to touch her, wishing her shirt would melt away with his touch and leave nothing behind but her beautiful bare skin. He dug his fingers into his thighs. “Hungry?”



“No. I peeked in the kitchen. I don’t see the maid, but the fridge is stocked, if you are.”



He was, but it could wait. “You look dead on your feet. I know the case is important, but why don’t you lie down for a few minutes? Rest. There’s a huge bed and blackout drapes. I’m sure the thread count on the sheets is probably north of a million.”



A little smile lifted the corners of her lips. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her again. No, that wasn’t it. He wanted to possess that mouth. Own it. Have the right to take it in whatever way and at any time he wanted. He blew out a breath.