“I want?—”
He cuts himself off. His hand slides to my waist, wrapping me that much firmer against him.
Every nerve snaps to attention.
We nearly collide with two men sporting massive cameras around their necks.
Effortlessly, Lumberjack swings me to the side and pins me against the nearest wall, followed by his large frame towering over me.
When the two men pass, his smile returns. Along with a dimple.
“Looks like I saved you again.”
I lick my dry lips. “You were demanding a ransom.”
“Less ransom,” he says, amused, “more… professional curiosity.”
“Professional curiosity?” I echo.
We start moving again, his hand firm at my back. But we’re not heading for the exit.
I want to ask where the hell he’s taking me, but I don’t get the chance.
“Look,” he says plainly. “If rescuing you is about to become a full-time job, I need answers.”
My nerves prick.
The last thing I want to give anyone is answers. Though…
He really did save me.
If he hadn’t, I’d still be trapped in there, probably hiding in a bathroom stall. No bodyguards. No manager. No PA.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, braced for the worst. “I’ll tell you anything.”
He weaves us left, through a set of double doors.
Suddenly, we’re outside.
We stop, and he drops the backpack from his shoulder into his hand. “For starters, Pix, what the hell’s in this bag? Gold bars? A body?”
I glance at the overstuffed backpack, then back at him. “At least twelve bodies.”
“That explains why it cut off my circulation.”
He smiles.
I smile, too.
We hold our stare a second too long.
I should offer him something.
Dinner?
The word barely forms in my head before a man rushes toward us.
I tug my cap lower, ready to bolt.
