THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

up.” 
    Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he raced for the stairwell. Seconds later, he burst into the penthouse, his fingers automatically keying in the sequence to prevent the alarm from sounding.
    “Delano?” called Eli from the foyer.
    Christ, they were almost out the door.
    Rage, hot and unreasoning, flooded his brain, his chest, his muscles. Moving at a speed he knew they would perceive as only a blur, he crossed the intervening space and snatched Ainsley’s bag from Eli’s shoulder.
    Eli reacted instinctively, shoving Ainsley behind him and drawing his pistol in one smooth motion.
    Delano found himself looking down the barrel of a SIG .40 caliber automatic, but he turned away from it to search Ainsley’s face. Her eyes, a blaze of violet-blue emotion, locked on his.
    Yes!
    The lone word sounded in his mind, as strong and as heartfelt as her earlier plea.
    “Dammit, Delano, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
    Delano was vaguely aware of Eli reholstering his pistol. “She’s not going anywhere.”
    “You’re kidding, right?” Eli looked from Delano to Ainsley and back to Delano again. “Delano, we agreed the safe house was the best course of action.”
    Delano’s anger took another bump. Hands fisted, he fought to keep his breathing regular, to expel the rage eating at his self-control. This was Eli , for God’s sake. His friend. A friend who was merely trying to carry out the orders he’d been given.
    Breathe deep, let it out. Again. Air in, murderous impulse out. When he’d mastered himself, he announced, “She stays with me.”
    “Oh, for the love of Pete!” Eli exclaimed. “Can no one around here stick to a simple plan? Your plan, I might remind you. This is the only way we can be certain she’ll be safe.” Eli grasped Ainsley’s elbow, maneuvering her toward the door again.
    At the sight of Eli’s hand on Ainsley, Delano’s tenuous grip on control snapped. With a snarl, he lunged for Eli, pinning the other man against the wall with one hand around his throat.
    “Del!” Ainsley cried.
    Eli’s hands came up to grip Delano’s hand, trying to pry open his grip. “Get … the hell … off me!”
    “Nobody touches her.” Delano tightened his grip remorselessly. “Nobody takes her from me.”
    Eli’s face was red now, his eyes starting to distend. He beat at Delano’s arm and head with savage blows, but Delano was beyond feeling it. What he did feel was the bone-deep, total-body need to feed, together with a powerful need to punish. The combination was dizzying. Growling, he dropped his jaw and let his canines erupt.
    “Stop it! My God, you’re killing him! Delano, let him go!”
    Through a haze of blood-lust, he felt Ainsley tugging at his arm and heard her agonized pleas. And he heard something else in her voice. Unadulterated horror.
    Suddenly, he saw what he was doing. He held Eli suspended a good four inches off the ground, and his friend’s struggles were weakening by the second. And oh, shit, Eli’d been beating him with the butt of his gun. A gun he could have used very effectively in his own defense.
    Jesus, God, what had he done?
    “Shit.” He eased Eli down until his feet met the floor again, taking the gun from his now lax grip. “I’m sorry. Eli, I’m so sorry.”
    Eli started to fall forward. Delano would have caught him, but Ainsley stepped between them, catching Eli and easing him to the tiled floor.
    “God, you’ve crushed his airway!”
    Delano bent to help her stretch a coughing Eli on the floor. Thankfully, he was regaining his color quickly. “His airway’s fine,” he said gruffly. Which it probably was, give or take some potential cartilage fracture.
    Ainsley fingers flew down the shirt she was wearing. Without a thought for modesty, she peeled it off, rolled it into a tube and slid it under Eli’s neck, her attention focused completely on her patient. “Eli? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
    Eli responded with a cough, followed by a string of pungent curses that bore testimony to his soldiering days.
    “Well, that’s reassuring,” she said. “No stridor, no muffled voice.”
    Delano frowned, thinking about other potential injuries. “The vascular structures are more vulnerable than the airway with this type of manual strangulation.”
    “Yeah?” Eli coughed again. “Coulda fooled my airway a minute ago. Now help me up.”
    Delano helped Ainsley ease Eli up to a sitting position, braced against the wall.
    “I am so