Free Mine To Have (Mine - Romantic Suspense Book 5) by Cynthia Eden Page A

Taggert been the one with Elizabeth Ward at The Blade?  That part just didn’t make sense to Victor.  Why hire out work that you could just do yourself?
    This case was spinning out of control. The bodies were piling up, and, so far, they had nothing to show for their months of undercover work.
    Nothing but the dead. 

Chapter Six
    Elizabeth opened her eyes.  There was a wooden ceiling over her head.  She frowned up at that wood. The ceiling in her bedroom was white. Not a cherry wood.
    Her heart started to beat faster. She turned her head—and met a pair of dark, glittering eyes.
    It wasn’t a nightmare. Oh, damn. Wesley is dead, and I’m being—hunted.
    She swallowed. “I don’t care what you see in movies, that shit is creepy.”
    Saxon frowned at her. “What?” He was sitting at the little table, his chair turned toward her.
    She sat up in bed, making sure to keep all of her important parts covered. “Staring at a woman while she sleeps. It’s not sexy. It’s straight-up stalker-like.”
    He blinked. He might have even flushed a bit. With his tanned skin, it was hard to tell for sure.
    “It’s creepy,” she continued, “so don’t do it again.”
    “I was keeping watch on you,” he muttered.
    “Uh, huh…”
    “And you’re fucking cute when you sleep.”
    Now it was her turn to blink.
    “Besides,” Saxon continued, voice deepening a bit. “You were the one calling my name.”
    She shot out of the bed. “I was not!”
    He leaned back in the chair and his gaze slid over her. “Yes, you were. So I thought I’d stay close in case you…needed me. I’m a helper like that.”
    He was lying. Had to be lying.  There was no way she’d called for the guy in her sleep. She put her hands on her hips and stalked toward him. “Did you talk to Agent Monroe?”
    “Um.”
    Um was not an answer. “Did they catch the guys at the motel? Have they found out who killed Wesley?” Do I get to return home now?
    “Not yet, but Victor’s working on things.”
    Right. Good old Victor.
    She raked a hand through her hair.  When she glanced over at him, his gaze was locked on her—and the darkness seemed to shine with intensity.   
    “Damn, but you are pretty,” he told her. “Shouldn’t your hair be all messed up when you wake? It just looks tousled and…sexy.”
    “Wh-what?”  She had to look like a wreck. No make-up. Crazy hair. So far from the land of sex appeal.    
    “Why are you wearing my shirt?”  His right hand lifted, and the back of his fingers —those scarred knuckles that shouldn’t be oddly attractive to her—lightly caressed her arm, right beneath the edge of the t-shirt. “Not that I’m complaining. You look far better in it than I ever do.”
    Talk. Elizabeth pushed the words out as she said, “I…just wanted to be in something that wasn’t stained by blood.” She’d used the little shower, too, was that wrong? After he’d left her, she’d been tired of being  covered in blood and the sweat that came from fear.  So she’d showered and crashed. It hadn’t been as if she were actually going to run out in the swamp after him. With the snakes? No, thank you.
    He nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that sooner…I could have picked you up more clothes.” His hand fell away from her. “I’m just not used to dealing with someone like you.”
    Someone like her? He better not be insulting her. “What do you mean?”
    His lips hitched into a half-smile. “Folks in my world are more likely to kill you than to help you.”
    But he had helped her. Again and again. “It sounds like the wrong kind of world to me.”
    “Yeah, that’s why I’m getting out.”  He pointed at her. “You’re the last job.”
    Ah, so she was just a job now.  Wonderful.
    “After you, I’m home-free. No more staring into mirrors and wondering who the hell is looking back at me.”
    There was a pain in his voice that pulled at her, and Elizabeth found herself edging toward