“Good. For once, I’m glad Kit stole a dresser drawer.”
Kit. Is that his sister? It has to be. I wonder if it’s the same sister he compared me to. He only has one sister and two brothers, I think? Regardless, I’m relieved. I shouldn’t be, especially when my cat is missing, and someone broke into my place.
What is wrong with me?
“Need anything else?”
Sanity.“Nope.” Ben doesn’t move when I swing the door open. “I’m ready,” I encourage, but he’s still blocking my exit.
He’s studying my face, then his gaze lingers down to the clothes, my feet, then back up, pausing on his bulky sweatshirt. He gently probes my forehead and grazes my cheek with his knuckle. “Cut’s not as deep as I thought it would be.”
“Me either.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
I use the wall for support and wish I had the time to study the pictures hanging. When I limp past his bedroom, the door is only cracked, but I see enough to know he’s still a clean freak. His living room is huge, and the tan floor-to-ceiling curtains cover what’s probably an awesome view.
“Hop on.”
I drag my attention from the shelves before I get a chance to read the titles of the books. “What?” I hold the back of the couch as I make my way toward him.
“Piggyback.” He arches a brow as I near him toward the exit. “Unless you’d rather have me carry you.”
“I can walk.”
“Your ankle is likely sprained, and you have no shoes. Pick or I will.”
I know he’s strong, and he wasn’t even close to out of breath when he carried me up them, but the thought of him falling on the way down makes my knees shake. “I’ll hop down the stairs, then just wait for you to pull around.”
He comes at me so fast that I don’t have time to protest before I’m in a firefighter hold. “Oh my God.” I fist his shirt, then squeeze my eyes shut as he descends the death trap he calls stairs. “Ben, you’re gonna fall.”
Once we reach the bottom, he says cockily, “No, I’m not.” Then we’re out the rear door, and fresh air hits my face, the mist still lingering. I feel him shifting to put me down, so I point my toe out so I can put my weight on it. I start letting go, and he reaches over his shoulders, gripping my arms right above my biceps. “Hold on.”
“Wha—ahh.” He swings me off and around his back, and I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck. His strong hands are digging into the back of my thighs, dangerously close to my butt, while he hefts me up. He adjusts his grip, then starts walking down the alley like he didn’t just toss a human being around like a backpack. “Jeez, Ben, do you moonlight as a Navy SEAL or something?”
His throat vibrates with a laugh, which reminds me I’m practically choking him. I loosen my hold so I’m barely touching his shoulders. I don’t melt into him. I don’t rest my head againsthis or wrap my legs tighter around his waist. I don’t wish his hands would slide from the outside to the inside of my thighs.
I can’t get caught up in how much I love being with him again, especially this close, closer than he’s ever allowed. I won’t let myself misjudge his care for desire or his kindness for passion—I refuse to make that mistake twice.
Besides, he’s just being nice because my ankle is swollen and I don’t have shoes. He’s a nice guy, the best. He’d do the same thing for anyone. It doesn’t mean anything more.
“This is my sister’s salon,” he says, jerking his chin at the building with a pink door next to the bar, then points at the monstrosity that takes up at least three-quarters of the block on the opposite side. “And that’s Lawless Protection Agency.”
It’s impossible to miss. Red dots flash from cameras high up in the corners, bright white lights shine as they sense our motion, and there are two fences surrounding a parking lot behind the building, both with sharp razors along the top, the inner one also has a sign with an electrical bolt on it.
I’m slightly freaked out at the level of security, because how dangerous are the people they’re trying to keep out that they need an electric fenceanddouble barbed wire?
“You mean Alcatraz?”
I hear the smile in his voice. “I need to get some supplies before we head out. My main priority is finding your cat, but I’m bringing provisions as well.”
“Thank you, Ben. For everything. You don’t have to do this, and I want you to know that even if we don’t find her, it means the world to me that you’re willing to try.”
“We’ll find her.”
He stops in front of a heavy black door with a number pad and enters a really long code. It beeps, I hear a mechanical sound, then a thin green laser shoots out of a little circle I thought was a peephole and scan’s Ben’s face.
He opens the door, then repeats the process about five feet after we enter a vestibule. Once we’re through that, he pivots left, then presses his thumb into a pad. A buzz sounds, a lock clicks, then he’s stepping onto the pavement behind the fences.
