"Say it."
"I want to taste you." The words came out rough, almost angry. "I want to put my mouth on you and make you come apart."
The image hit me like a freight train.
"Then do it."
His eyes went dark. His hands moved to my belt.
And then?—
His phone rang.
We both froze. That same urgent ringtone. That same terrible timing.
"Don't," I pleaded. "Just this once?—"
But he was already reaching for it, and the expression that crossed his face when he saw the screen made my blood run cold.
"What is it?"
"Jake." His voice was flat. "He's in trouble."
The hunger drained out of me, replaced by dread. "What kind of trouble?"
"Devil's Dust." Axel was already moving, pulling on his shirt, his cut. "They grabbed him. Ten minutes ago."
I was off the bed, reaching for my own clothes. "I'm coming with you."
"Like hell you are?—"
"Jake is my friend." I grabbed his arm, made him look at me. "And I'm a trauma nurse. If they hurt him, you're going to need me."
The war in his eyes lasted only a moment.
"Stay behind me," he growled. "And if I tell you to run, you run."
"Deal."
We were out the door in thirty seconds. Whatever was coming, we'd face it together. I just didn't know how soon it would arrive.
6
PROVING GROUND
The address led to a warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial district. We rode in formation—Axel at point, Tank and Irish flanking, me bringing up the rear on my Kawasaki. The night air cut through my jacket, sharp and cold, but I barely felt it. All I could think about was Jake. His eager smile. His foster-kid eyes that had recognized something in mine.
They grabbed him ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes was a lifetime. Ten minutes was enough to break bones, spill blood, end a life.
Axel held up a fist, and we killed our engines a block out, coasting the rest of the way in silence. The warehouse loomed ahead—corrugated metal, broken windows, a single light burning on the second floor. Two bikes out front. Devil's Dust.
"Thermal shows four heat signatures," Irish murmured, checking a device I didn't recognize. "Three clustered on the second floor. One separate—probably Jake."
"Entry points?" Axel's voice was cold. Professional. The soldier emerging.
"Main door, fire escape on the east side, loading dock around back." Tank was checking his shotgun, movements economical. "I say we hit all three at once. Don't give them time to use Jake as leverage."
