Safe in His Arms Read Free

around her wiggling little body. “Damn, baby, the least you could do is say hello before you fall into my arms.”
    She froze and rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”
    “We need to talk, huh?” he asked, slowly relaxing his arms. She quickly stepped away. When she reached the patio windows, she reached up nervously and tucked her shorter curls off her face, turning to the side when she did so she didn’t have to face him. He could see her pulse thundering along the slender column of her neck from where he stood two feet from her. Her body was tight, stress showing in the way she clenched her hands together and in the lines of stiff posture.
    He did this to her?
    She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning with her arms crossed under her lush breasts to face him. “Wolf, Lacey is waiting for me.”
    She never called him Wolf. She always called him Mac. Shit pissed him off.
    “Mac.”
    She squinted at him. “What?”
    “Don’t call me Wolf. It’s Mac,” he murmured. “It’s always been Mac.”
    “Okay,” she drawled, dragging the two syllables out with such sarcasm he felt his body tighten with the challenge.
    “We need to talk,” he said. He watched the tension in her shoulders tighten. She scanned the room with an impatient look. She was going to argue with him. Mandy never, ever fought anyone. She avoided confrontations. She got around people, managed the hell out of them, but she never directly argued with anyone.
    After a second of turning her back on him, she faced him. “Talk? Why should I? Besides, give me a break! You can’t just barge in here and make demands. Now—” She took a deep breath, adding to the battle he had controlling his reactions by practically taunting him with her barely covered breasts in some kind of hot bikini top, and continued, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go. Lacey is waiting and I know you don’t want Ace up here.”
    She thought she could scare him off with Ace? He settled against the wall and lifted a shoulder.
    “Ace doesn’t scare me, Mandy. And you aren’t leaving this room, not until you tell me what I want. Like where you’ve been, why you hid, and how you hid for the past five years. You and I are going to talk, sugar. Now.” As he spoke, he couldn’t stay still and ended up stalking towards her, letting some of his anger show in his face. She surprised him again by standing her ground, her fists tight at her hips but she faced him down.
    “Oh yeah? Well, you’re in for a surprise, Mac, it sucks to want. I should know, right?” The way she said his name, with enough sour sarcasm to curdle milk, had him drawing up to a complete stop. “Now, we can talk later, but right now, no, not possible,” she said in a rush.
    He backed her up by simply walking towards her. She landed in a chair by the bed, breathing hard, her fists tight, clearly wanting to hit him. He squatted down in front of her and carefully took one of her hands. “Look, Mandy, we’re going to start this over, okay? You’re going to tell me what I want to know—”
    “No, I’m not. I’m not one of your missions, Wolf.”
    “Mac.”
    He didn’t know why, but he always wanted Mandy to call him Mac. Never Wolf. Wolf was a killer. She had once loved Mac, loved him enough to see beyond the killer.
    She huffed out a breath and looked away from him, but not quick enough to hide the tears shimmering in her eyes.
    “Whatever,” she whispered.
    He loosened his hand on hers and rocked back on the balls of his feet to give her some space. If she cried, he’d be lost. He’d cut out his own damn heart if it would make it better. He’d kick anyone’s ass that made her cry, but how would he get in a fist fight with himself?
    “Mandy, come on, sugar, look at me. Talk to me.”
    Still not looking at him, she tossed her sun-bleached hair off her face and exhaled. Her hair was lighter than he’d ever seen it before. She’d cut it, too. The long, golden curls had once reached