Trinity touches my shoulder. “Thank you for saving me.” Her voice comes out soft and uncharacteristically contrite.
I don’t like hearing that tone at all.
“Don’t mention it. We’re a team now, right?”
I meet her gaze, and she graces me with a tiny but gorgeous smile that strikes me like a blow.
I’m so incredibly screwed. And not because of the Russians.
Chapter 32
Trinity
I stare out of the train’s rear window at the Texas terrain, a strange mix of lush farmland and desert that zips past us as we pick up speed.
Andrei Kruschev is long gone, a speck of road rash on the side of the tracks. If we’d been moving any faster, I think he’d be dead.
Nausea roils in my gut at the thought. I don’t want anyone else’s death on my hands. Yes, the man tried to abduct me and was choking me, but I don’t think he intended to kill me.
He wanted the drive.
I can’t figure out how he—how anyone—found out about my secrets. I’ve never told a soul before Finn the other day.
For now, though, Kruschev is dust in the wind. A worry for another time.
Behind me, Brody grunts. “Where the hell are we going, anyway?”
He’s still panting from the fight, his face red and his shirt covered in dirt and blood.
I’m breathing heavily, too, from the adrenaline rush, near strangling, and witnessing another showdown between Brody and Andrei.
While neither man fits the traditional definition of a good guy, Brody is definitely the hero in my scenario.
Studying him on the floor of the luggage car—bloody, sweaty, and exhausted after saving my lifeagain—I realize he’s basically my knight in shining armor. Kind of a wild realization, but nevertheless true.
“I don’t know where. What I do know is you need a new shirt.” I gesture at the pile of suitcases and smile. “Lucky for us, we’ve basically got a mini-mall right here.”
He glances down at his disgusting t-shirt and laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think the people back in the other cars would appreciate all these bodily fluids.” He shakes his head before meeting my eyes. The smile fades from his lips, and his throat bobs. “Sorry. I don’t know how I lost track of you so fast. He could’ve?—”
“Don’t. I’m the sorry one.” Despite the ocean of words I’ve bottled up, I can’t seem to force any out. Instead, I crawl on top of him and crash my lips against his.
Copper coats my tongue from the cut on his lip, revving my arousal up to eleven. He took that hit forme. Has even killed for me.
We meld our mouths together, finding a rhythm that’s too steamy to classify as a mere kiss. His tongue teases mine, driving my desire to taste all of him.
Kissing isn’t enough. I’m so thirsty for this man, I may as well be dying in the Arizona desert.
I tear at his zipper. “Pants off.”
Undoing his jeans, I yank them down and expose his cock in all its girthy glory. I’m an animal, fueled by lingering adrenaline and lust too long dampened by logic and reason.
I wrap my hand around the base of his dick, squeezing while I stroke in a steady rhythm. The silky-smooth skin feels like velvet over steel.
“Fuck.” His head falls back onto an army green bag. A convenient pillow for him as I drink my fill.
After a quick swipe of my tongue along the head, I swallow him as far as I can, closing my lips around him in a tight seal. I can’t fit all of him, so I curl my fingers around the base, stroking while I work him over with my mouth.
He groans low and twists one hand in my hair, his grip just the right side of painful. “Trinity…”
