Free Caught for Christmas by Skye Warren

to steal from the Grand—”
    “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
    “I’m not angry, baby. I’m just explaining why I couldn’t hold back any more. I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself. I came to care about you, despite you pushing me away, despite my best efforts not to care, and I couldn’t let anyone hurt you—not even yourself.”
    I shiver. “And not my parents.”
    “Definitely not them.” His expression turns cold, and I realize this is the face of the soldier, the man who fought multiple tours overseas. This is what his enemies saw. “They should have protected you.”
    “I’m not going to defend them. I spent too long giving them excuses.”
    “You don’t ever need to see them again.” The way he says it, I can almost believe it’s true.
    I look down at my loose T-shirt and shorts rolled up at the waistband. I feel even more helpless without my clothes. That’s just an illusion, though. I was already as helpless as possible, whether I’m wearing flip-flops or stilettos or nothing at all. “What about me?”
    He looks down, seeming almost vulnerable. “I hope you’ll stay with me.” He pauses. “At least until the New Year. We don’t have to decide anything right away, and you’ll be safe here. I’ll have Blue send someone to bring your clothes.”
    It can’t be that simple. “What about Ivan?”
    “What about him?”
    “Umm, I broke into his club.”
    “Only because we let you.” West smiles a little at my glare. Then he sobers. “Ivan doesn’t have to know.”
    “He might find out. You’d lose your job.” I don’t add that he would more likely lose his life.
    A fierce light enters his eyes. “I’ll protect you from anyone, Bianca. And I’ll just need to keep saying it until you believe me. If Ivan came after you, I’d keep you safe. If anyone even thinks about touching you, I’d make them wish they were never born.”
    There he is again, the warrior. It makes me shiver. “Okay,” I whisper.
    “Good.” He smiles, looking almost normal. Like a hot guy you’d meet at a coffee shop—not terrifying and intense. Not like he’s going to battle the world just to keep me alive. “Now come have breakfast. Do you want omelets or pancakes? Wait, what am I saying? I’ll make both.”

Chapter Seventeen
    B reakfast is just the beginning, and I spend the rest of the day cocooned in a warmth I’ve only dreamed about. I find a box of microwave popcorn in the pantry, and West pulls out a needle and thread from an impressive first-aid kit. We create edible garland that we string up around his loft, adding a bit of festive charm to the stark space.
    His expression is so focused as he pushes the needle through the puffy kernels, as if he’s on the battlefield, as if it’s a question of life or death. So I can’t help but toss a kernel at him, which bounces off his broad and impressively solid chest.
    He looks up, first in surprise, then in mischievous delight—he retaliates with a hail of popcorn fire.
    Then the bowl is empty, and I’m flat on the rug, laughing, popcorn in my hair. I’m a disaster, but he looks down at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
    It’s strange and rare, and I would give anything to stay like this forever.
    Even now, in pure bliss, there’s a frantic edge, an undertone of dread, because it will never be enough.
    His phone chimes, and I feel him tense above me. He backs off me, and I immediately miss the safety of his arms, the surety of his weight. His body moves stiffly as he crosses the room to check the text message, as if whatever’s happening pains him. Or worries him.
    What could worry a man as strong and sure as this one?
    “What’s wrong?” I ask softly.
    He looks at me, and a shadow crosses his face. I know he feels the loss of intimacy, of warmth as much as I do. “We think your parents skipped town.”
    “Oh.” The thought makes my stomach clench, even though I don’t want to see them again. Abandonment never