Her warm breath fans my lips. Close enough to taste.
A bullet slams into the truck body above us, and we both freeze.
“Let me go, Declan. I have—I can’t…please.”
She struggles, her pulse slamming against my fingers where I grip her wrist. Delicate bones. Shit, she’s delicate everywhere—except for that toxic personality I can’t forget.
“Are you fucking mad, Molly?” I whisper, using the nickname that always made her prickle. “There’s a gunfight. Why are you here?”
“I’m not telling you. Let me go.” She struggles, each wriggle grinding against me. Making me harder. “Get off me, dick.”
Her voice rises from above a whisper.
“Keep still.” I release her wrist and slam a hand over her mouth while my other hand grips the gun.
On the other side of the truck, boots appear. I don’t need tospeak Spanish to understand the rapid question-and-answer session.
They’re looking for someone, something, and I’m not entirely sure it’s not us. The head-fucker, maybe?
Marlowe chooses that moment to sink her teeth into my palm. The sharp pain shoots straight to my cock.
I remove my hand from her mouth with a curse. “Fucking hell?—”
She doesn’t answer, just yanks me down by my belt loop and grinds up against me, hard and hungry.
Electric. Hot. Wildly inappropriate.
But she’s the one pulling me closer, wrapping her leg around my hip as bullets ping off metal somewhere in the distance.
“You’re insane,” I breathe against her throat.Her response is a sound, half moan, half growl, as her hand slides between us and grips me through my jeans. The way she strokes me— desperate and needy— leaves no doubt this isn’t strategy.
This is want.
And, fuck, I want too.
My hand slides up her side to the waistband of her sweats. She arches into my touch, breath hitching.
“Este camino,”one of the men says.
“Necesitamos encontrarla.”
Then they run off.
What the fuck am I doing? I push down into her, panting, locking her hand between our bodies. I nudge her ear. “Move your hand, Molly.”
Her breath shudders hot and damp, and she tugs her hand away, her gaze full of sharp daggers.
I wait a beat, listening, but no one shouts. No bullet tears into me or the truck.
The gunfire pops and burns the night, but the shots are at a distance. They’re not shooting near here again. Not yet.
And my Spanish is weak.This wayI got. And something about finding him, or was it her?
“This is what we’re going to do, Marlowe.” Her eyes spark with fury when I use her given name. “The gunfight moved away from us for now. The yard is big, but that means shit. They’ll be back.”
I don’t know why they’re here, but a million worth of coke is going to be lost, and it’ll be my fault. I screwed up the deal once. And now I’m screwing up a second time.
Taking a sharp breath, I shut that thought down. I need to get this idiotic girl out of here. And I need to hide the bodies.
