Completely helpless.
I do laugh at that, a quick exhalation of breath at how ridiculous it sounded, even in my head.Brooks Landry hasn’t been helpless in years–longer, I suspect–and she would beat the shit out of me if she knew I even thought the words.
Of course the fact that she’s not helpless is also a big part of the problem.Because the girl never seems to shut up about how not helpless she is and what she wants to do to the people she doesn’t like, and that mouth of hers has gotten her in trouble more than once.
God, I hope she hasn’t made them hurt her.
Because if they did, I’m going to have to track them down one by one and show them the meaning of being skinned alive.Slowly, and with as much pain as I can possibly manage.If any of them has laid one fucking hand on her–
I blink, and when I open my eyes, the girl in question is standing in front of me.
Well, not in front of me, but on the other side of the street, in front of that horrible purple building with the golden trim.And she’s not exactly standing.She’s being shoved around like she definitely did say something to someone that got her in trouble.The man behind her puts a hand in the small of her back and hustles her forward like he’s removing her from a situation, and her steps are dragging like she doesn’t really want to go.I take a moment to glance up and down her body once, and catch my breath.
Fuck me, the girl is stunning.She’s wearing black slacks and a black jacket to match, her legs long and lean on sky-high stilettos, her waist tucked in over the spread of her hips, and the jacket unbuttoned just far enough to show me the hint of a red lace bra.Her red curls spread over her shoulders, painting flames across the black, and when she turns her head, I see the flash of blue that means her eyes are directed right at me.
I freeze, caught in the power of her gaze like she’s just shot me through the heart, and stare back at her, my heart pounding like I’m having a heart attack, just from seeing her.She’s safe, or at least alive, and I every inch of my body is reaching for her, trying to stretch across the street to press against her.I want to run my fingers through that hair and yank her toward me, forcing her body against mine.I want to bend over her and claim that smart fucking mouth for my own.Force her to open for me, show me that she’s as desperate as I am.
Fucking hell, my cock is already so hard at the thought that if I had her in front of me, I’d have her pressed against the nearest wall, my hand down her pants spreading her legs for me so I could remind her that she belongs to me.
Some distant, more rational part of my brain tells me firmly that I’m an idiot if I think right now is the time for any of those thoughts, but a deeper, more feral part of me is roaring with need and fury, screaming with the desire to take that girl and protect her with everything I have.Prove to everyone that she’s mine, and that she’s off-limits.
Conscious me, of course, thinks that primal part of my brain is an absolute idiot.
Though I understand the relief of seeing her whole.
Just then, her eyes move on and I realize that she didn’t actually see me.She was looking down the street, as if expecting someone–a car, maybe?Does she already have an escape planned?–and missed me completely.
She didn’t see me.That bright blue look wasn’t a reaction to seeing me standing here, and with that thought, I get suddenly even more angry.Like her having missed me is some sort of intentional insult.
I mean, it is Brooks.I wouldn’t put it past her to have seen me and then intentionally acted like she didn’t, just to piss me off.
And I would laugh at that, but the man standing behind her suddenly glances in my direction, too, and I have a split second to realize that it’s none other than Dom Landry before I’m stepping quickly back into the shadows.I get as close to the building as I can and put a hand over my mouth to disguise myself as much as possible, then watch, my eyes narrowed and my suspicions rising.
What the fuck is Dom doing escorting her himself, and why was he in that trumped-up brothel-looking building?What’s happening in there?Why did they bring Brooks?And why the everlasting fuck is she dressed like some sort of slutty businesswoman?I’ve known Brooks a long time, and I’ve never seen her dress like that.
Those pants would definitely hinder her if she was trying to escape.Hell, I bet they don’t even have pockets for her knife collection.
I watch from the darkness as he shoves her into the SUV sitting by the curb, then looks around like he’s expecting trouble.His eyes linger on the spot where I was standing a moment again, and I press back even further, trying to become one with the wall behind me.I don’t think he saw me.Maybe he saw someone there, but didn’t have time to identify me.Maybe he just realized there was a flash.
Because if he’d actually identified me, his men would already be shooting in my direction.
After another moment of hesitation, Dom shakes his head, scowls again, and then ducks into the car after Brooks, slamming the door behind him.
And I watch, my heart in my fucking throat and my fingers twitching, as the SUV peels out of the parking spot and onto the street, then speeds quickly toward the corner, where it turns through a red light, tires squealing and frame shifting at the speed.
I want to run after them.Jump in my own car and take off, force them off the road and to a stop so I can save my girl.Every nerve in my body is singing with the desperate need to get her out of there.
But I don’t want to put her in any more danger than she’s already in.
And the moment I get in a gunfight with Dom–or a knife fight, or a fight with fucking brass knuckles, I don’t care–it increases the chances that she’ll get hurt in the process.If they’re using her for bait to get to me, the moment I show up, she loses value to them and they don’t need her anymore.
Dom has already tried to sell her once.
I don’t think he’ll fail if I give him another shot.
So I have to be careful.This time, when I go to get her, I have to know that I’ll succeed, and that Dom won’t catch us before we’re out.No rushing in.No insane rescue attempts.No mistakes.
I fucking hate having to take my time, but I don’t see that I have any choice.
