Nico only had a passing acquaintance with such things.
So, why was a good woman who’d led a good life convincing a man like him to follow her into an alley with promises of sex? It was that question that had him following her.
OK, that wasn’t entirely true. He was also following her because he found her insanely attractive, and because it had been so long since anything or anyone actually interested him that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. How could he not follow the first person to make him feel something in so long?
But he also wasn’t an idiot. Which meant he would not get into the car she was leading him to. He’d also made sure Van was able to track his phone, just in case. Because even though this woman was half his size and didn’t look ready to take someone like him down, he wasn’t about to underestimate her.
He thought for a moment that maybe she was working with a partner. But the alley seemed empty enough. He didn’t see anyone lurking about. And the backseat of her car appeared to be clear.
So, his little temptress was acting alone. Somehow that made her even more interesting.
Time to figure out her true motives.
She let out a little gasp when he gripped her waist and spun her around, pinning her back against the club’s brick façade. He shoved a hand into all that soft, thick hair and gave her head a little tug so that she was forced to meet his gaze.
He intended to ask her some questions. Truly he did. But the way her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth and darkened with what could only be described as interest (hot interest) completely undid him. He was powerless to do anything except capture that pouty little mouth of hers with his own and kiss the hell out of her.
It wasn’t a made-for-Hollywood kind of kiss. It was too hungry for that. Desperate.
Hot.
He wasn’t sure anyone had ever returned a kiss with the intensity his fiorellino was giving him. She seemed to be pouring everything she had into driving him utterly insane.
Or to distract him from whatever she was really there for.
He couldn’t care about that, though. Not with the taste of her—warm and minty and hungry—on his tongue. Not when the feel of her body against his was driving him mad with a need he hadn’t experienced in…hell, had he ever wanted someone as much as he wanted this stranger?
It was like she couldn’t touch enough of him at once. Her hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, up through his hair, and back down again. With a growl that bordered on feral, Nico tilted her face up so he could deepen their kiss.
The shocked gasp she let out, followed quickly by a long, slow groan of pleasure, reached right into his pants and gripped his cock tight.
But just when he was ready to drag her into the backseat of her car and rip off her clothes with his teeth before tracing every line of her body with his tongue, just when he couldn’t make himself care about his own safety or Van’s warning to not—under any circumstances—get into a vehicle with this stranger…
She jammed a Taser into his gut and pulled the trigger.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whispered over and over and over again like a prayer as his muscles seized, his body clenched, and he found himself slumping to the ground. She cupped her hand around his neck to support his head as he fell. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Huh. That was…unexpected.
Chapter 4
Movies and television make kidnappings look so easy. They totally weren’t, as it turned out.
Which was why River was cursing Hollywood to hell and back as she dragged the absurdly hot, unconscious mafia man into her backseat.
She’d even watched a YouTube video about female firefighters to study the logistics of how they were able to carry much-larger fire victims to safety before undertaking this stupid kamikaze mission, and she was still grunting, sweating, and muttering under her breath like Yosemite Sam by the time she got him situated in the backseat of her ancient Honda Civic.
If she was Jack Reacher, she would’ve shoved him into the trunk. But, hell, she wasn’t even as competent as Stephanie Plum. So, the backseat would have to be good enough. All she could do was hope she could get to the meet-up point with that Russian asshole who threatened her before her victim woke up and slit her throat.
He didn’t look like someone who’d slit her throat, though. Not while he was unconscious. He looked kind of…peaceful. Much younger and much less threatening than when he was awake and staring at her like she was a tasty little rabbit, and he was the big bad wolf.
It all made her feel like a villain straight out of a Stephen King novel. If he’d been mean to her or abused her in some way, maybe she’d feel less like Pennywise for kidnapping him and turning him over to the Russian mafia. But no, all he’d wanted to do was get laid. He’d been kind to her. Gave her the most passionate kiss of her life. And here she was, stuffing him into her car like he was a bag of groceries from the Piggly Wiggly.
She didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for him, though. She couldn’t remain in debt to the Russian mafia because of her stupid, self-destructive asshole of an ex.
And the threat they’d made if she failed to complete this little mission was the stuff of nightmares. And true crime podcasts.
So, with one last look at the sexiest unconscious man who’d ever lived, she got out of the backseat, slammed the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. When this was all over, she should find that idiot ex of hers and kick his ass so hard his future kid’s grandkids would have her size-seven boot print on their asses when they came out of the womb.
