“Never.” Inhaling his clean scent, she examined the looming warehouses. “Which building?”
“The entrance with the instructional artwork.” His tone held humor.
She peered at the dented metal door. Heat suffused her face at the lewd graffiti. His fingers slipped beneath her top and his thumb stroked her waist in little circles. Her breath caught, and she struggled to speak past that distracting movements. “Are we going inside?”
“No. We wait.”
Restlessness taking hold, she shifted against him, not understanding why he wanted to wait when he grasped her hips, holding her still. Her breath caught at the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach.
“I guess we can amuse ourselves in other ways in the meantime...” His mouth slid over hers, his tongue slipped past the seams of her lips. And he drew her into a deeply, carnal kiss. She moaned, pressing into him. Seconds later, he broke off the kiss and eased back, his eyes glittering in the dark…anger stroked with an edge of desire.Damn. She inhaled a shuddering breath.
Keeping her firmly against him, he calmly refocused his attention on the warehouse, leaving her in a mess of frustrated need. Some part of her understood he was still furious that she’d forced his hand and made him bring her here. It didn’t matter—nothing did, except these two men who were too important to her.
With difficulty, she brought her gaze back to the door, to the dark figures coming out of the building and their rising voices. The air thickened with violence. A shiver raced through her.
“I hate this place,” she whispered as several men stepped out onto the moonlit asphalt. “There he is.”
“I know.”
The sinister figures surrounded Declan. She pressed a hand to her stomach, fear consuming her. “Aren’t you going to help?”
“No.”
“Blaéz—” She twisted to glare at him.
“I don’t imagine he’d appreciate me undermining him right now.” His arm tightened around her waist as if to prevent her from running headlong into danger.
“You lot need to be thrown in jail,” Declan snapped, pulling her gaze back. “Taking bets from a minor?”
“We’re sure takin’ somethin’,” a rough voice growled. “The money or your knees—your choice.”
“Don’t threaten me.” Declan lunged, evading the swinging baseball bat and slammed his fist into the fiend’s face. Curses flew. A tattooed skinhead jumped Declan, grabbing him in a chokehold. Another blow landed on her brother’s belly.
Darci squeezed Blaéz’s arm in fear. “Blaéz—”
“Stay here. Don’t move. Not even an inch, Darci.” As soft as the words were, the warning was encased in pure steel.
Ugh, she wasn’t an idiot, no way would she be jumping in there with those thugs. Yet, despite Blaéz being immortal, she bit her lip, fretting over him as he strolled toward them with that compelling saunter that was his alone. “Let him go.”
“I don’t need your assistance,” Declan snapped when he saw Blaéz.
“Dammit, Dec,” Darci muttered. “Why can’t you just accept help?”
One of the hoodlums, a tall, thin man in a suit turned. “Warrior, this has nothing to do with you. We have a good thing going. Go inside. There’s always a spot for you.”
Declan elbowed the one holding him. A struggle broke out. The gleam of a silver flashed in the moonlight.
“No!” Fear crashing through her, Darci darted forward. Declan grunted.
Blaéz spun around. And just as fast, the other thugs stilled. As if someone with incredible power had frozen them. Only the skinhead remained unaffected. He grinned, the next second he grabbed her. She didn’t even see him move.
He leered and licked her face, his attention on Blaéz. His stink of sweat and gun-smoke had bile rushing up her throat. Darci swiped at her wet cheek. Ugh, gross!
A low growl filled the alley. Blaéz stalked closer. “Let. Her. Go.”
“Not happening.” Skinhead took another step back, dragging her with him. A red gleam flared in his dark eyes, amping her terror. “Finally, andshecame tous.”
What the hell did he mean that she’d come to them?
