HIS BABY TO BEAR - TWO

He had no idea what her name was. It wasn't necessary for the mission. His team was, of course, aware. They'd scouted every possible player, and she'd been near the top of the list. But all he knew was that she was the right girl at the wrong time in the wrong place. And she was now in deeper muck than she could ever hope to dig herself out of.

They were on the verge of falling through an unlocked door leading to the roof, which was common in such structures. There was no fire escape that high up, but one started a few stories down. Ropes and harnesses were piled in a secluded corner, ready for Jerome and his package.

"Get on board with that, honey. Reduce your height. Don't bother taking a look up. Don't bother showing up. If they get past me, jump off the ledge on the roof's left side. There must be a fire exit somewhere down there. "My team will get you on the ground as soon as possible." "Don't look back," he yelled, his light brown eyes boring into hers as he pointed to the large air ducts in the middle of the roof.

Several pairs of combat boots could be heard pounding up the steps, so close he could almost taste them. And there she was, staring at him like an angel thrown into a situation she wasn't supposed to be in. Hesitant. Afraid. But there was a fire in her eyes that made him lick his lips.

Not right now, fucking now. Focus.

"GO!" he yelled as he dashed to the other side to hide behind the stairwell's outcrop's corner.

"Are you ready, Jordan?" With one hand on his ear, he reloaded a new clip into his gun.

"Seal and load," they say.

The party was about to get started.

Her breath was stuck in her throat, just like it had been when she was running toward her house-the one place she was supposed to be safe. Adrenaline and heat were coursing through her veins, blinding and deafening her while also alerting her to her surroundings.

Olivia's legs ached. Her hands trembled like those of a drug addict who had gone too long without a dose. Her throat was parched, and her lungs were cursing her for flying up the stairs. She was now huddled behind an air vent, the constant, loud hum of air rushing through it drowning out everything else.

What's the point of doing whatever he tells you to do? Maybe he's the fucking psycho who killed Jimmy. Perhaps those other guys are here to help...

A hail of gunfire blew open the door at that precise moment. She yelped and ducked lower, clutching her head with both hands. Her fingers dug into her loose curls, and she tasted the bitter taste of dread that she'd felt when that big guy grabbed her. He dragged her right off her doorstep, but she'd noticed guys starting to pile out of there from the corner of her eye, and none of them seemed too happy to see her go.

She was perplexed as hell, but her primal desire to live came roaring back with a vengeance. Because the gunfire was so loud, she imagined that every cop car in the city would be heading there. They wouldn't, wouldn't they? Shots were heard late at night on the South Side... she'd be lucky if a patrol car came to inspect the apartment. Even so, what could they possibly do against the obvious arsenal that these guys were carrying?

Olivia bit her lower lip to prevent herself from crying. It was all a little too much. Finding Jimmy dying and hearing him tell her she needed to flee because someone was after her. He drew her face closer to his, pressing down so hard on the back of her neck that it hurt. He refused to tell her why she had to flee, choking on his own blood from the deep puncture wound to his chest. The only thing that mattered was that she did. He wouldn't let go of her until he breathed his last and died.

Then she returned home to find a veritable army prepared to do to her what she assumed they'd done to Jimmy. Above her head, there was now a firefight.

There were far too many unanswered questions for her to attempt to make any sense of anything, and her mind raced to keep up. Her cream coat was splattered with blood, and she'd crouched into a small ball to peer out the side of the air vent. Her feet were mostly darting to the sides, looking for a better vantage point to shoot at her nameless savior. They were all dressed in black, with harsh expressions and angular lines on their faces, as they backed up a little further to get out of the direct line of fire.

Such as the type of men you could hire in a group to do your bidding. All of them are nearly interchangeable. The big guy, as she referred to him in her head, wasn't going to stand a chance. One of the guys was carrying an assault rifle, for God's sake.

I'm a terrible assistant! How did I end up being a part of this?!

Panic roiled around the edges of her mind, but she kept it at bay. She'd have plenty of time to go insane later.

As she peered out a little further, she could see the occasional shot fired from the other side of the little outcrop, muzzle flashes blinding her in the otherwise solid darkness of the night. The shots echoed through her body, choking her with numb fear.

I hope he kills every single one of them.

HIS BABY TO BEAR - THREE

TThe big guy then rolled out of his cover, exposing himself completely. He tricked one of them into dodging out of his own cover, then shot the man in the knee and throat as he screamed in pain. Olivia had to cover her mouth with her hand as she screamed, her hazel eyes widening as the man slouched to the side. As the life from his eyes faded, the last thing he saw was her staring back at him.

There was a flash of recognition in his gaze before it became completely dull.

The big guy was right by her side, gritting his teeth loudly enough for her to hear. He leaned to the right, and the odor of blood and gunpowder residue on him burned her nostrils.

"Stay down," he barked again, and Olivia had no intention of moving.

She did, however, feel strangely better with him right next to her. It wouldn't help them if they both died on the roof like the man in front of her.

"You have a chance," he said into his earset, his voice straining. "Fuck," he said, and then rolled out without another word.

Bullets whizzed around him, and Olivia saw one fly by so close to him that the fabric of his shirt ripped on his arm, revealing a thick red streak of blood on his bicep. He didn't stop moving, as if it were just a mosquito bite.

One of the attackers leaned out an inch too far and was hit between the eyes with a bullet, leaving a gaping wound that smoked as he collapsed onto the ground. It wasn't from the big guy, who was halfway up the outcropping, scaling it like a mountain climber trying to set a demented record. Olivia watched in awe as he descended from above on the last foe, bringing his heavy fist down like Thor's hammer on the guy's head.

They both fell to the ground, and the man with the angular features wasn't even twitching after a few well-aimed, unrelenting punches. He couldn't possibly pull it off. His face had been bloodied to a pulp. Olivia could only see a steady pool of blood forming around his skull.

"Come on," the big guy grumbled as he stood up.

He didn't even bother looking at his swollen arm. The only colors she saw that day seemed to be crimson and black.

Olivia shook her head, her gaze darting from one mangled body to the next before returning to the big guy. Her legs felt as if they were filled with lead, and she couldn't move a single step no matter how hard she tried. If the situation had been different, he would have run to her after giving her a stern look that would have had her melting like snow in the summer heat. His iron-like grip gripped her hand and drew her along, past that dreadful door that seemed to only let death in, and to the miscellaneous gear in the corner.

"We must act quickly. There will be more."

While he was talking, he was already putting her in a harness and checking the connections on the ropes that were tied down on the roof. His hands were moving at breakneck speed, and a tiny part of her brain couldn't help but notice how his cheeks strained as he concentrated, and the little dip that formed between his brows when he double-checked his work.

"I'm on my way down," he said quietly into his ears.

Olivia could hear a response on the other end of the line, but she couldn't figure out what it was. His wry grin told her that it was probably not meant for her ears in the first place.

"Get up on that ledge, honey," he said, smiling. "We're going to fly."

He hooked himself into his own harness as she wobbled up on the ledge, holding on with her hands and remaining on the balls of her feet. At the very least, she was wearing flats rather than pumps-small mercies.He hopped up next to her as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be hanging out on the ledge of a building, ready to rappel down into possible danger. He gave her a cocky but delicious smile.

"Who are you?" she wondered, struggling to find the right words.

"I'm the man who's about to turn you into a bird," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and hurling her off the ledge and into the darkness below as the stairwell door swung open again.

HIS BABY TO BEAR - FOUR

Libby was furious with him, and he thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

The way her corners of her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed made him want to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the deep recesses of the cabin they were in. He wouldn't let her out until she was screaming his name at the top of her lungs and not a trace of that frown remained.

That caused him to shift his cock in his pants uncomfortably as he sat on a chair by the window facing the yard in front of the house. He could still feel her eyes boring into the back of his head, as if she expected him to give her some kind of explanation that would make everything better.

But he couldn't do it. And, as things stood, adrenaline was still coursing through his veins like ice cold vodka, and he was having a hard time focusing his attention on anything other than her juicy figure or the way she squirmed beneath him.

With a grumbled sigh, he re-adjusted.

Hell on earth.

"What exactly am I doing here?" Where am I?" Libby demanded, a hint of hysteria in her voice.

He didn't resent her for it. She was a non-combatant. A woman who never expected to be involved in something straight out of a high-budget action film. He'd give her a little leeway because she'd seen death and carnage and been thrown off a roof in a matter of hours. However, not too much.

"As I previously stated, you are in an undisclosed location near Laguna. My name is Andrew. "My team and I have been tasked with your protection, and I will keep you company here until the secondary unit arrives to pick you up in the morning," he explained.

He failed to mention that five men were stationed around the perimeter at various distances and vantage points, training every piece of surveillance equipment on and around the cabin. And that he could have been outside as well, but chose not to. Something about her made him smolder and act like the irrational kid he hadn't been since they beat the hell out of him in basic training. And yet, here he was, getting a boner because a pretty girl was annoyed with him.

Certain things remain constant.

"You already told me that," she began, emphasizing the patience in her voice that had long since vanished. "However, I'd like to know where I am and why I'm here! Could you please tell me?"

He chuckled under his breath, leaning back in his chair and casting a long, rowing glance at her. Mitch, Shaun, Tom, Tim, and Jordan had this place under lock and key. At this point, he was nothing more than a contingency to the contingency. But he had to pretend he was doing something other than admiring the scene Ellie had created, her cheeks flushed with rage and her hands on her hips. When she wasn't dealing with bodies dropping dead around her, she could go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds.

Jerome couldn't help but admire a woman with that quality.

I like a lot of things about her, he reflected, darkly amused.

"No, honey, I'm afraid I can't tell you any of that. You just have to believe in me and my boys. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, we'll keep you safe," he said, letting his deep voice rumble a little too loudly.

So he was strutting his stuff a little. It's a big deal.

"Stop referring to me as honey. "My name is Libby," she explained, exasperated.

She'd taken her coat off and washed her hands and face. They'd arrived at the cabin about a half-hour earlier, and the takeout that had been waiting for them was sitting cold on the table, despite the fact that neither of them was particularly hungry. Jerome needed time to recover from the game's high, and Ellie... well, seeing guts spill out of a guy does something to one's hunger. Unless they've grown accustomed to it.

"Sure thing, honey," he drawled, proudly wearing her glare.

"So, what can you tell me?" What brought you to my house? Who were those individuals? "What do they expect of me?"

Jerome shrugged, scowling slightly. This was one of the minor tasks they completed in between the major ones. It was only a side job for Squad Six, or Shifting Squad Six as their employers affectionately referred to them, if there weren't machine guns and aerial drop-ins involved. They were all ex-special ops or ex-army, the best of the best, and they knew it. The majority of them had left active duty for personal reasons, but the money in the private sector was too good to pass up for long.

It was supposed to be a simple job, in and out with no muss and no fuss. So far, it had only been that. With the unexpected bonus of being able to enjoy the company of a stunning woman thrown in for good measure. However, in most jobs, information was given solely on a need-to-know basis, and he didn't need to know. That meant she didn't, as far as he was concerned.

He shrugged casually, giving her a smirk that made her bottom lip curl in annoyance. What he wouldn't have given to turn that frown around.

"I'm not sure what they want from you, honey. I was there because some wealthy men in expensive suits paid me to be there. If it makes you feel better, we weren't there just for you. But I'm not at all disappointed that it turned out to be you," he said, his voice a low, growling purr.

Shit. That was the kind of behavior he could expect from himself after about five shots of tequila and a glass of whiskey, not when he was on the job. But the way her hair bounced off her brow when she threw her head back in frustration, and the way she kept wringing her hands together, did a number on him. Everything she did seemed to him to be a big, screaming sign. A sign that he shouldn't be sitting alone at that table.

She paced back and forth, allowing him to get a good look at her thick thighs and ample ass, which were made to be grabbed by his calloused hands. He put the rifle he'd been tinkering with on the windowsill and sat down to watch the show. She huffed under her breath, clearly more enraged than concerned. It was unsurprising. People dealt with the situation in their own unique ways.

She abruptly came to a halt and gave him a hard, irritated look. He shrugged casually and spread his hands, his best schoolboy grin on his face.