Then she heads toward the restrooms in the back.
I start to follow when some lass grabs my hand. “Want to dance?”
“Not interested,” I say, pulling my hand free.
It takes me time to get to the bathrooms, and I hover by the door as people come and go. As I wait, Marlowe emerges and heads quickly for the exit. I hurry after her, but someone blocks me, and then I get caught in the crowd.
By the time I get outside, she’s gone.
Fuck.
Where’d she go?
I scan the street. She’s walking fast in the opposite direction.
I take off after her, keeping my distance.
Two blocks from her building, in a quiet spot, I catch up to her. “Marlowe.”
She gasps and spins. “Declan?”
“Who the hell else were you expecting?”
“Fuck off.” She turns, picking up the pace, marching forward fast.
But I grab her wrist, stopping her. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”
“Let go of me.” She tries to yank free.
“No.” I pull her closer. “What’s going on? Why were you at that club? Who was that guy?”
“None of your business.”
“It is if you’re in danger.”
She laughs bitterly. “You don’t care about me.”
“I do care. More than I should.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“I was asking someone about…my boyfriend,” she says.
Our eyes meet and she stops struggling.
The air between us is thick. Electric.
Then she’s in my arms and I’m kissing her like my life depends on it. She kisses me back, fierce and desperate, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
It’s angry. It’s hot. It’s everything.
We’re both panting as I break the kiss, holding her hip with one hand and her wrist with the other.
“So much,” I say, “for the boyfriend.”
She turns bright red. “Fuck you.”
This time she pushes me with her free hand, and I step back. She takes off again when I see the blond guy from the club emerge from the shadows of a nearby tree, hiseyes on her. He was too far away from me before to notice, but there’s a flower tattoo on his inner wrist, clear as fucking day. As he adjusts the sleeves of his hoodie to hide it, a flash of a black gun catches my eye.
He follows her.
