Protective Custody. Debra Webb

again. Louder this time.

      “You’re safe, Nicole.”

      She stilled. That voice…

      Ian. Her lids fluttered open and her eyes labored with the effort to focus in the near-darkness. The face that had invaded her dreams for more than three years finally came into focus.

      “Ian?”

      “It’s okay,” he said soothingly.

      Nicole closed her eyes and savored the erotic sound of his voice. Memories flooded her mind. The explosion. Hitting the ground. And then Ian was there…taking care of her. A weary sigh eased past her lips, her body aching even with that tiny exertion. He had insisted on having her examined at the ER, then he had taken her back to his place. She remembered falling into an exhausted sleep in his arms.

      “My head hurts.” She opened her eyes, and her gaze connected with his. Those emotionless gray eyes gave nothing away.

      “I know.” With gentle fingers, he brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “I’m sorry.”

      Ian’s refusal to accept her case suddenly hit with the same impact as that invisible wall. “Why are you doing this?” Nicole sat straight up with the surge of adrenaline that accompanied that thought. Pain twisted inside her head. She rubbed at the tender spot on the back of her scalp.

      “You were badly shaken. The doctor said you shouldn’t be alone,” he offered quietly.

      Bracing her hands behind her to maintain her upright position, Nicole leveled her gaze on his. “The explosion?”

      “Your rental car apparently.” He searched her eyes. “I’ve taken care of things with the police. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

      This time had been too close. Nicole clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly. She needed to be calm—to think. She surveyed the darkened room. Ian’s bedroom. His scent, so familiar, suddenly enveloped her. That clean, subtle musky scent that was his alone. That stirred her blood even under current circumstances.

      His bed. She was in his bed—with him hovering over her. Why had she let him bring her here? He wasn’t going to help her. He had made that point quite clear. Anger shot through her veins, sending her heart back into double time.

      “I have to get out of here.” Nicole scrambled from beneath the covers. She wasn’t safe here. She wasn’t safe anywhere. She had to run as fast as she could.

      “We need to talk.”

      Instinctively Nicole rolled to the other side of the bed, out of his reach. She jumped to her feet and immediately regretted both moves. The insistent throb inside her skull erupted with a vengeance, threatening her unsteady legs. Not quite a concussion, the doctor had said she would be fine. She had been very lucky to only be close enough for the force of the blast to knock her to the ground. Nicole squeezed her eyes shut and focused on blocking out the pain. There was too much to be done. No time to waste. She had to reschedule her flight. She had a witness to relocate and protect. And she couldn’t trust the regular channels to handle it. Someone wanted her and her witness dead. How had the bastard tracked her to Chicago? She had been so careful. No mistakes! No one knew her location.

      No, that wasn’t true, Nicole realized grimly, because he had found her. And he would find her again. She needed her things. Did she dare go back to the hotel and get the few items she had brought with her? She would need a change of clothes.

      Clothes.

      Nicole stared down at herself. The shimmering glow of moonlight from a nearby window confirmed her sudden realization. Her clothes were gone. She wore nothing but her skimpy, lacy bra and matching blue panties.

      “Where the hell are my clothes?” Nicole looked up to find Ian towering over her, his tall, dark frame almost lost in the shadows. Something, some emotion flitted across his features too quickly for Nicole to analyze, and then that mask of iron control fell back into place.

      “I thought you would be more comfortable like this.” His gaze moved slowly over her. “I sent your clothes to be cleaned,” he added in that maddeningly calm way of his.

      That tone. That controlling, no-arguments-tolerated tone. He had no intention of working with her, yet he had taken charge of the game strategy. She was no different than one of his fugitives. He would handle the situation until he could wash his hands of her. That was his way. Ian Michaels always did the right thing. He never deviated from the straight and narrow—never failed.

      Except once.

      And then he had turned his back on her as if nothing had happened between them. As if what they had shared hadn’t mattered in the final scheme of things. He hadn’t given her the benefit of the doubt. Hadn’t waited around for her to explain. Ian had simply walked away. From her. From everything.

      Because she had betrayed him. The fact that she had only been doing her job was of no consequence—even if she had been able to tell him the truth. Nothing she could have said or done would have altered his opinion of her. If the man were capable of emotion he might display some sort of reaction. Anger, pain, remorse, something. Nicole almost laughed out loud. But this was Ian Michaels. She glowered at him. He didn’t allow himself to feel. Hadn’t she learned that three years ago? Hadn’t she learned anything at all?

      “Where are my clothes?” she repeated with all the force she could marshal. She should have known better than to come to him. Why would he care if she lived or died? And how could she blame him?

      “I’ve already answered that question.”

      “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have wasted my time.” Nicole attempted to brush past him only to be halted by his half step to the right.

      “You need to tell me what’s going on, Nicole,” he argued quietly.

      “Get out of my way, Michaels.” Nicole darted to his left. Ian moved more quickly, effectively blocking her once more.

      His unreadable gaze locked on hers. A hint of a smile curled his irritatingly full lips. “You have no clothes, no transportation, no money. How do you propose to leave?”

      He had her clothes and her bag. Another rush of anger flooded Nicole. She stood before him exposed, emotionally as well as physically. She glared into his handsome face, his perfectly controlled emotions angering her all the more. She manufactured a caustic smile of her own. “Don’t sweat it, Michaels. I’m sure I can get a ride.” Nicole ran the fingers of both hands through her hair, allowing the long strands to drift down over her shoulders. “In fact,” she added tartly, ignoring the protest of her sore muscles, “if push comes to shove, I feel certain I can earn myself some fast cash.” Not that she would ever resort to what she was suggesting, but he didn’t have to know that, and if it hit the mark… “You don’t need to worry about me at all. I can take care of myself.”

      Nicole knew she would not soon forget the collection of emotions that danced across his handsome face. But it was anger that ultimately took center stage and held his features captive. The uncharacteristic outward display fascinated her for about two seconds then trepidation kicked in. Before she could take a step back, he grabbed her by both arms.

      “You will do exactly as I say, Nicole.” Those long, tanned fingers tightened to the precise point just short of pain. That silvery gaze darkened as he pulled her closer to him. “The issue is not up for debate.”

      Nicole met his intense glare with lead in her own. “Then you’d better be prepared to stick to me like glue. To watch every move I make,” she warned. “The first time you turn your back I’m out of here. I’ve had the same training as you, Michaels, and we both know I’m very good at my job.”

      Loaded silence followed that summation. A muscle flexed rhythmically in his chiseled jaw. Heat mushroomed between their almost-touching bodies. Nicole’s heart pounded so hard she felt sure Ian could hear it threatening to burst from her chest. To her utter frustration, her gaze drifted to his lips. She licked her own, her mind