to pay. He could deal with it, usually. Right now, it wanted Haven safe.
“That’s it.” Rhys shoved free. He strode down the narrow path beside the neighboring house. A stucco fence divided it from Volkov’s place. He reached a metal side gate. It opened into Volkov’s immaculately landscaped side yard.
Then across the line, he heard Haven laugh at something Roth said, and Rhys’ gut stilled.
She was okay. Hell, she was laughing. How could the woman be so resilient?
A second later, Roth and Haven appeared.
They were hurrying down the path, holding hands, and damned if they didn’t look like a good couple. Roth was in a tuxedo and Haven’s green dress glittered in the garden lighting.
Then she lifted her head and spotted Rhys. A smile broke out on her face, and relief flooded her eyes. “Hey—”
Rhys closed the distance between them in two strides, and lifted her off her feet. His mouth closed over hers, the kiss hard and punishing. She made a muffled sound, then kissed him back, melting into him.
Dammit, he realized now just how afraid he’d been.
Finally, he broke the kiss, and lifted his head. She looked dazed, and he pressed his forehead against hers.
Without looking at the man, Rhys said, “Thanks, Roth.”
“My pleasure,” the businessman replied.
Rhys glanced at the man. “I owe you.”
Zane inclined his head.
“Let’s go,” Vander said. “Zane, you should probably go, too.”
“It was a dull party, anyway.”
They all moved out the gate, through the neighboring yard, and onto the street. Rome and Zane said their goodbyes and headed down the sidewalk.
“I’m getting Haven home,” Rhys told Vander.
His brother nodded. “We’ll debrief tomorrow.”
“Hey, you can have your magic mic back,” Haven said.
“Vander isn’t removing it.” Rhys quickly slid his hand into the neckline of her dress, taking the dot off her skin. She gave a little shudder and he looked into her face. Her cheeks were flushed.
Vander held out a small case and Rhys pressed the mic inside.
“Night, Haven,” Vander murmured. “Good work.”
“Night, Vander.”
Rhys towed Haven down another street to where he’d parked his Norcross SUV. He’d found a quiet, dim spot on a street a few blocks away.
“Well, Volkov has the Water Lilies,” Haven said glumly.
“My guess is that he’s storing it and running the auction as a favor for the Zakharov family,” Rhys said. “No doubt he’ll get a healthy cut.”
“I didn’t learn much else. I’m not a very good spy.”
Adrenaline still churned inside Rhys. “Your spy career is over. You’re officially retired.”
She gave a gusty sigh. “Shame, I liked the outfit.”
His hand tightened on hers. “I’ll buy you all the dresses you want and take you out somewhere fancy.”
Her face softened.
His gut was still hard and wouldn’t settle. He kept imagining what Volkov might’ve done to her. He squeezed her fingers.
“Rhys, are you okay?” she asked.
“No.”
“Talk to—”
He spun her. He pushed her into the darker shadows, and pressed her against a high brick fence under a tree.
She gasped.
“No talking,” he growled.
Inside him, his inner caveman had taken over. He felt a pounding need to know his woman was safe.
“Rhys,” she breathed, excitement hitching her voice.
He shoved her up, until her feet were off the ground. His hands slid under her dress and he found her panties. With one twist, he ripped them off.
She gasped, then undulated against him. His mouth took hers—hard, deep, wet. Her perfume filled his senses—sweet, just like Haven. His fingers found her pussy, stroked.
She cried out against his mouth and he swallowed the noises she made. She was wet. Wet and ready for him.
He thrust a finger into her tight warmth and his thumb found her clit.
“This is going to be fast, Haven. And rough.” His voice was guttural.
She let out a low moan. “Yes.”
He fumbled with his belt, then his zipper. He slid one hand under her ass. And he fitted his cock to her and thrust deep.
Haven moaned his name. Her legs clamped onto his hips and Rhys pumped into her.
“Fuck, I feel you rippling on my cock. Take me, baby.”
She did, clinging as he drove into her.
“That’s all for you, Haven.”
“Yes.” Her mouth moved, touched his neck. He felt the rake of her teeth.
He kept thrusting, with no finesse, no care, just the primitive need to claim and affirm his mate.
She gave a husky cry and started coming. She bit down on his neck.
Rhys moved faster, plunging his cock deep. Haven. His. So fucking sweet. With one last thrust, he lodged deep and poured himself inside her.
They stayed there, with him pinning her to the