He catches her before she’s halfway down the block. Grabs her arm and spins her around, and even from this distance, I see the color drain from her face.
He leans close, mouth moving fast and angry. She flinches, eyes darting left and right like a trapped animal looking for escape routes.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but my hands curl into fists without permission. I’m supposed to watch and report. Nothing more. But something about the fear in her posture makes me want to cross that street and break every bone in Viktor’s hand.
A city bus rumbles past, blocking my view for five seconds that feel like fifty.
When it clears, they’re gone.
Shit.
I scan the street, catch movement in the narrow alley between the coffee shop and nail salon. They ducked out of sight, which means Viktor doesn’t want witnesses for whatever he’s planning.
I’m moving before I can think it through, crossing against traffic while horns blare behind me. Forget surveillance protocol. I’m not sure I care about my orders anymore. Some lines you don’t cross, and hurting women is mine.
But before I can reach the alley, she bursts out of the shadows like she’s running from the devil himself.
Wide brown eyes. Breath coming fast and shallow. She slams into me before she can stop.
Ice-cold coffee explodes across my chest.
The shock of it freezes me in place for one heartbeat, two, but it’s not the cold that stops my brain. It’s the press of her body against mine. Soft curves molding to hard muscle. Rapidheartbeat I can feel through my soaked clothing. The scent of vanilla and something sweeter underneath.
She tilts her head back, and our eyes lock.
Christ.
Up close, she’s fucking devastating. Heart-shaped face. Full lips. Big brown eyes gone wide with fear. My dick stirs again, harder this time, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from doing something stupid.
She scrambles backward.
“I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out fast and breathless. Her hands hover just above my chest like she wants to help but doesn’t dare touch me again. “I wasn’t paying attention. Totally my fault. That’s not real leather, is it? Will the coffee ruin it? Shit. I can run back inside and get napkins, or... ”A laugh escapes her, shaky but real. “I should come with a warning label. ‘Caution: disaster in human form. Do not approach with dry cleaning.’”
My jaw loosens a fraction before I catch myself.
She’s rambling. Nervous energy pours out of her in a flood of words. Her gaze drops to my waist, and I see the exact moment she clocks the gun under my jacket.
Whatever color was left in her face disappears.
She takes another step back. Then another.
I should say something. Reassure her. But my brain is still catching up, still trying to reconcile the attraction burning through my veins with the fact that Viktor just had his hands on her.
“It’s fine.”
My words come out short. Her eyes dart from the weapon back to my face, and I can practically see her calculating whether I’m about to become her second problem of the day.
Viktor just cornered her in an alley. Whatever he said, whatever he did, she’s still shaking from it. Of course, she’s probably scared of every man who looks at her wrong.
“I’ve really got to get going.” She’s already backing away, words still spilling fast and anxious. “I was just grabbing coffee before my shift, but...” She glances down at the spreading stain on my jacket. “Again, I’m really sorry. I hope your day gets better.”
She turns and practically bolts down the sidewalk.
I hope your day gets better.
She’s running scared from two different men and she’s worried about my fucking day.
I watch her go. The sway of her hips. The tension in her shoulders. The way she glances back once she reaches the corner, checking to see if I’m following.
