Can’t breathe.
Can’t do anything but stare up into those ice-blue eyes, which are blazing with something that looks terrifyingly like fury.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
His voice is low.
Controlled.
The kind of controlled that’s worse than shouting.
“I’m one of the bad guys because I was born to it. My father was a drug lord. He sold me to a rival gang when I was twelve because I was the weakest of his sons and he had no use for me.”
The words hit me like a bucket of cold water.
“I got out. Clawed my way up. And now I do freelance work with the FBI, taking down the same kinds of monsters who made me what I am.”
His hand is still over my mouth, his body still pressed against mine.
And as his words echo repeatedly in my mind, I become gradually and horrifyingly aware of how warm and solid he is—
“Do you understand now?”
I manage a nod, and he holds my gaze for a long moment, before slowly removing his hand.
“Why didn’t you start with that?” I blurt out.
“Why didn’t you let me finish?”
“Because I’m the act first, think later type. Isn’t that obvious?”
His gaze glitters, and I think...I think...
“Duly noted from hereon.”
Oh, okay, I thought he was going to smile, but obviously not.
My rescuer finally eases back, and the girl in the backseat lets out a shaky breath of relief.
“I’m sorry I almost crashed your car,” I say in a small voice.
“It wouldn’t have come to that.” He settles back into the driver’s seat like nothing happened. “So you don’t need to apologize.”
I almost smile despite everything.
Confident much?
“Before we get back on the road,” he says, “do you have any other questions?”
“You said you work with the FBI? Is that how you ended up rescuing me?”
“In a way.” He starts the engine, and the car purrs back to life like it wasn’t just seconds away from becoming a crumpled heap of metal. “How much do you remember of your abduction?”
I strangely feel like laughing when I hear the last word.
Abduction.
I actually forgot about that, and I’m not sure I like being reminded of it.
