“Fuck. Okay. Where are you, Savannah?”
“The lobby of the Westin at the end of Union Square.”
Cam’s gaze shifted and locked on the hotel.
“The guy pushed me down, and dragged Saskia out.”
“You all right?”
“I hurt my arm, but I’m fine. Find Saskia. Please.”
“I’ll find her. Stay in the hotel lobby until one of us comes to get you.”
“All right, Cam.” Her voice hitched. “Find her.”
Cam shoved the phone away. “Savannah’s in the Westin. A guy took Saskia.”
His focus narrowed. He slowed his breathing, scanning Union Square. Then he spotted a big man in a suit dragging a fighting woman behind him.
“There! In the square.”
Vander yanked the wheel. They jumped the curb and screeched to a stop on the sidewalk.
Cam and Rhys shot out of the SUV before it fully stopped.
Cam broke into a run.
The man saw him coming and yanked Saskia in front of him like a shield. She had a large, red palm print on her cheek.
The fucker was dead. Cam pulled his Glock and got closer. “Duck.”
Saskia dropped fast, without the tiniest hesitation.
But he couldn’t risk hitting her. Instead, he lunged in and hammered the butt of the handgun into the man’s face.
Once, twice.
The guy’s grip on Saskia loosened and Cam pulled her free. He grabbed her and swung her toward Rhys.
His gaze narrowed on the guard.
One of Mikhailov’s goons. Trying to take Saskia again. His fury was a cold, angry thing.
He holstered his weapon, then he attacked. A hard punch, then Cam spun. He rammed his elbow to the man’s face, and the guy let out a pained grunt.
Cam spun again and kicked him. Methodically, he kept hitting and punching. The man went down on one knee and Cam kneed him in the face.
There was a crunch as his nose broke.
“You won’t ever touch her again,” Cam said. “She doesn’t exist for you.” He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and punched him again and again.
The guy sagged, but Cam kept hitting.
“Cam. Cam, enough.” Vander shouldered in.
Cam dropped the guy, his chest heaving. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a lock on it.”
Vander eyed him carefully. “See to Saskia. Rhys, find Savannah.”
Saskia stood nearby, pale, a little shellshocked. Her gaze dropped to the guard, then back to Cam.
He stiffened. This was it. He’d let loose some of the darkness inside him. She’d look at him with horror now.
Her dark gaze met his.
Then she walked toward him.
“Don’t touch me,” he said.
She paused just inches away. “Why?” Her bottom lip trembled. “If you really don’t want me around you, then go.”
Not want her around? He frowned. “I just pummeled that guy.” He flexed his hands and saw the blood on them.
Her face changed. “You think this—” she waved at the downed guard “—changes how I look at you?” She shook her head. “Cam, you just saved me. Again. He was dragging me off to Mikhailov. He threatened to shoot people. He assaulted Savannah. You and he are nothing alike.” She lifted her chin. “I was nineteen when I saw my brother kill a man. It was a foreign assassin who was after him. We were out for lunch, and I thought my brother was an analyst at a bank. The assassin would’ve killed me, too, but Killian strangled him with a napkin. I’m well-aware that to fight for your country, to protect the innocent, requires its soldiers, its protectors, to wade into some gray and uneasy areas.” Her eyes fired. “So don’t stand there and expect me to condemn or judge you.”
Fuck, she was something. Magnificent. Cam felt his walls crumbling.
He just couldn’t keep fighting what he felt for Saskia Hawke.
She was in danger, and he could keep her safe.
He would keep her safe. No matter what.
He reached for her and yanked her to his chest.
After a beat, her arms wrapped around him, her cheek to his chest.
He rested his chin on top of her head. He looked up and met Vander’s gaze. Vander had the guard zip tied.
“Saskia!”
They pulled apart. Rhys was leading Savannah over. The artist was clutching her left arm to her chest.
“Looks like her wrist is broken,” Rhys said. “I’ll take her to the hospital and call Hunt.”
“What?” Saskia breathed. “Your arm is broken?”
“It’s okay.” Savannah hugged her. “It just really hurts. I landed badly.”
“That asshole.” Saskia whirled and kicked the guy with her boot.
The guard grunted.
She kicked him again.
“Okay.” Cam pulled her away. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it.”
“So you get to go to town on him, but I don’t? That’s not fair.”
He saw Vander shaking his head, a small smile on his face.
“Mikhailov wants her.” The guard smiled, blood on his teeth. “He wants her naked and screaming in his bed. He’s a shark. He’ll wait until the right moment, then attack.”
Saskia gasped. Cam wrapped an arm around her and glared at the guard.
“He will get her,” the guard said.
“Yeah, well, he has to go through us,” Cam said. “And we aren’t easy prey.”
Vander hauled the guy up. “Not another word, or I’ll duct tape your mouth shut.” He glanced at the others. “Rhys, call the office and get a car here, then get Savannah to the hospital. I’ll get our guest back to the office.” He jerked the guy. “We have a nice holding cell for you.” Then Vander looked at Cam. “You keep Saskia safe.”
He nodded.
“Cam—”
He cut her off and cupped her cheeks. “You’re safe now.”
She shuddered. “I know.”
“I’m not going to let Mikhailov touch you, Saskia. We’re going to the Norcross office, then you’re staying with me.”
She straightened. “You don’t want that. I’m not sure it’s a good idea—”
“You’ll be safer with me.”
Her eyes widened. “God, I can’t stay with Savannah. It’ll put her in more danger. She’s an artist, and that asshole broke her wrist.” Her expression became one of devastation.
“Like I said, you’re staying with me, sweetheart.”
Her gaze flew to his face. “Cam.”
He stroked his fingers over the smooth skin of her injured cheek. “You’re staying with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He stroked her cheek again. “And then we’ll talk.”
Chapter Nine
As Cam led Saskia into the Norcross Security office, she tried to ignore her throbbing face and sore knee.
She’d twisted wrong, and it was her bad knee. Worry niggled at her. A knee injury had ended the career of many a dancer. Still, it was nowhere near as bad as poor Savannah.
Rhys had called from the hospital. Savannah had a fractured wrist. Saskia’s gut clenched, and she felt sick. Her friend had been hurt because of her. Savannah was an artist, she needed her hands.