she murmured with a wry twist of her mouth. âI think.â
âDonât worry,â Torrance laughed, sending her husband a teasing look. âMaseâs compliments are still a little rough around the edges, but he means well.â
The Runner flashed his wife a wicked, hard-edged smile and playfully wagged his brows. âFace it, Tor. You love my rough side.â
âBehave,â Torrance admonished under her breath, but her green eyes glittered with excitement, her cheeks flushed a warm shade of rose. The love the two shared was so potent, so rich and heady and intense, that it seemed to fill the room, making Michaela painfully aware of howâ¦alone she was. All sheâd had was Max, and now even he had been taken from her.
âMax will pass his training,â Brody rumbled, breaking the awkward silence. âAnd until all of this is over, Iâllâ¦be with you.â It almost sounded as if that last bit had stuck in his throat, and she wasnât the only one whoâd noticed.
âIf youâre not up to the task,â his partner drawled, reaching behind him to snatch up one of the cookies out of the perpetually stocked cookie jar, âI could always be a pal and step in for you, partner.â
Brody didnât so much as twitch, but she could see the vein that began throbbing in his temple, pulsing beneath the dark sheen of his skin as he tilted his head and glared at the smirking Irishman. Energy, red-hot and raging, surged around him like a fiery glow, so real Michaela almost flinched from the burn. âLike hell you will.â
âWhy not me?â Cian laughed, sending her a teasing wink. The irreverent Runner obviously loved goading his partner and friend, but Michaela could sense something deeper than mere irritation in Brodyâs reaction, and she didnât need any of her so-called powers to see it.
âWhy not you?â he softly snarled. âBecause youâd be too busy bedding her instead of protecting her, thatâs why!â
Cian choked on another sharp bark of laughter, while Michaela made a soft sound of surprise, thoroughly insulted to think that heâd lumped her into the same class as all the other women who willingly fell into Hennesseyâs arms simply because of his looks. âIâm going to assume youâre letting your irritation talk,â she murmured, âand that you didnât mean that to sound as insulting as it did.â
âDonât bet on it,â Cian snickered, just before Mason elbowed him in the side on his way to the sink with his plate. The Irishman rubbed at his ribs, but couldnât stop his soft chuckling, and the frustration in Brody seemed to coil like a viper.
All it took was a womanâs keen intuition to realize that he thought sheâd rather have the pretty-faced Irishman watching over her than him. And while it was one thing for other women to prefer his dark-haired partner, something inside of Michaela compelled her to say, âAs charming as you are, Hennessey, Iâmâ¦that is, I think the current arrangement will work just fine.â
âWow,â Cian drawled, gifting her with a boyish smile as he rubbed one hand against the sharp angle of his shadowed jaw. âI donât think Iâve ever been turned down so nicely before.â He looked toward his partner, arching one midnight-black brow. âSeems the lady is happy with you after all, boyo. Congratulations.â
Brodyâs scowl deepened and a charged silence settled over the room, the only sound that of the running faucet as Torrance worked her way through the dishes. Too restless to sit still, Michaela shifted to her feet, pushing her chair back in at the table before taking her cup to the sink. âIâll finish up, Torry. I need something to keep me busy.â
Torrance gave Michaela a quick hug, then slipped into a chair beside her husband. Together, they began talking with Cian about Jeremy and Jillianâs wedding, which would take place later that week in the Alley. Michaela began to lose some of her tension as she listened to their easy, quiet chatter, when she suddenly became aware of Brody standing beside her. His left hip rested against the counter, long arms crossed back over his chest, and she felt that little catch in her breath again. She tried to act natural, but his strangely seductive presence speared through her system like the residual traces of a fine wine, making her senses hum.
From the corner of her vision, she watched his gaze settle on her mouth, before lifting to her eyes. âI know youâre probably afraid of me,â he stated in a quiet rasp.
âAfraid of you?â Michaela shook her head as she looked toward him, wondering where heâd gotten such an idea. âWhy would I be afraid of you?â
He arched one auburn brow in an expression that reminded her of his partner, wearing a cynical look of disbelief, as if the answer should be obvious. But the truth was that she didnât fear him, at least not in a physical sense. Noâ¦her caution came from a different sourceâa basis more intimate than mere intimidation. It came from one that played his scarred, seductive image across the darkness of her mind when she closed her eyes at night; that made her pulse flutter whenever he was near. That reminded her time and again that men werenât to be trusted.
Not that she was going to explain any of that to him.
âI mean it, Brody,â she told him in a soft voice, the armor around her heart breaking a little at the shadow of vulnerability she could see there in that dark gaze. âIâm not afraid of you.â
For several moments, he looked as if heâd argue, those compelling green eyes narrowed on her profile as she turned her attention back to the dishes. Finally, he sighed and said, âThis isnât going to work the same as it did with Pallaton and Reyes. Iâm not going to waste time watching you from the outside looking in.â
A shiver slipped down her spine, but she managed to keep her voice steady. âHow do you mean?â
âFrom what Wyatt told me, they tried to keep a reasonable distance, but Iâm going to be on the inside with you at all times. If something happens, I need to be close enough to make a difference. Like it or not, Iâm going to be like your shadow.â
She slanted him a sideways look as she asked, âYou didnât agree to watch over me just to keep me from causing trouble for the pack?â
He shook his head, and she watched, mesmerized, as the auburn tips of his thick hair shifted over the soft cotton of his black T-shirt, the material hugging the firm muscles beneath. âThereâs more going on here, Doucet, and you know it. Iâm doing this for you, not them.â
âMy name is Michaela,â she sighed, shifting her gaze back to his, irrationally irritated by the way he continually called her by her last name. It was so impersonal, which was exactly why she figured he did itâand it occurred to her that they were like two opponents circling one another, wary of the otherâs motives.
âI know your name,â he muttered, his tone dry.
Michaela lifted one shoulder. âCouldnât prove it to me, since you never use it,â she countered, noting the strange blend of exasperation and wariness in his sexy, almond-shaped eyes. âSo you plan to protect me while keeping me in line, then?â
âI doubt anyone
