Free The Bastard by Inez Kelley

bathroom?”
    “Of course not.” She motioned toward the hall. Vike made a quick escape and stared in the bathroom mirror. He never fucking learned, ever. The last woman who’d made him feel this way, created this tender need to wrap her in safety and bask in her attentions, had gotten him a sword to the gut. He’d laid on that battlefield, his life draining away into the dirt, and known that she’d done this.
    His wife had betrayed him. She’d taken his love and hidden behind it, hidden her lust for power, for position. He’d been blind to her manipulations, following his heart and not his head. Now his dick was leading him down that same path again.
    He glared at his reflection. “You are pretending to like her, asshole. Remember that. Don’t think this is genuine. She doesn’t know the real you.”
    Two Band-aids on top of the trashcan sported a dark brown stain. DNA. Lacy’s Holy bloodline. She was his mission, nothing more. He had to remember that. His very dead but very aching soul depended on it.
    He folded the bandages into a square of toilet paper and shoved it in his pocket. On the sink, he found her medication and the after-care instructions. He carried them back into the living room.
    “Here, take these.” He sat on the coffee table and handed her two tablets.
    “I think some Tylenol would be fine.”
    “Lace, please.” Amazing how lying came so easy in the dark. “I don’t want to think about you hurting. Please, for me, take them.”
    Her eyes rounded as she took the tablets from his hand. “You’re sweet.”
    Sweet? No, he was selfish. If she was drugged, no Leech could get to her. That meant he’d get to see her again. He shouldn’t. He should let the others protect her. But he didn’t want to. He handed her the water bottle she’d left on the side table. She swallowed the medicine as he pulled a business card from his wallet.
    “This is my cell. My team is right outside, but they won’t bother you unless there’s trouble. Just rest and trust me to take care of things.”
    “I do trust you.”
    He gave her a smile that felt plastic. She had to trust him and he couldn’t trust her.
    Metal scrapped at the door lock. Vike grabbed his dagger off the coffee table and surged to a stand. The front door opened. Lacy’s sister ripped a can of pepper spray out of her bag, aiming it toward his face. “Get away from her, asshole!”
    “Whoa!” He angled backward.
    “Annie, no,” Lacy cried, jumping from the couch.
    The small canister lowered but Annie’s eyes remained alert. “What the hell is going on?”
    “Look. I’m putting it away.” He couldn’t send the dagger back to his tattoo so, slapping a fake smile on his face, he shoved the blade in the back of his pants then held his empty hands up. “Everything is fine now.”
    “Fine? I have no idea who you are and you’re standing over my sister with a fucking knife. How is this fine?”
    “Vike Ulfhedinn.” He extended his hand. “I met Lacy when she was attacked. I drove her home from hospital.”
    Annie’s mouth softened as she tucked the pepper spray back into her bag. She reached out, accepting his hand. “You’re the hero.”
    “Not really.”
    Annie’s bag slid off her shoulder to the chair. “Then can you pretend to be a hero and do me a favor? There’s this idiot across the street looking at the house. I was going to call the police but… well, you’re a big guy. And you owe me for freaking me out. Can you ask him to leave? He’s creepy.”
    Biting back a groan, he looked at Lacy for help. She was yawning and missed his silent plea. “Actually, he is watching the house, but it’s okay. Lacy’ll explain. I have to get to work.”
    He slid out of the door before Lacy could answer. Better she feed the false-preacher story to her sister than him. He crossed the street, making a beeline for Dray.
    “Asshole,” he muttered.
    “What?” Dray asked around a Jolly Rancher candy that turned the inside of his