When a key ground in the door lock he’d just picked to gain entry to the office, Ash signaled Ellory to get back.
His adrenaline surged, and he held on to it, enjoyed the burn. Reaching along his spine, he pulled his weapon and trained it on the door.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ellory—frozen, eyes fixed forward.
The door swung open and a tall guy filled the frame.
He saw Ellory first.
“The Accountant,” he gritted out.
He whipped out a gun and aimed it straight at her.
Ash hesitated only a quarter of a heartbeat before he took the shot, but a decade drained from his life in that time.
The man dropped to the floor, face up, wearing a shocked expression.
Ellory issued a sound, part muffled scream, part gag.
Ellory plastered her hands to her cheeks and hunched forward, making squeaking sounds that alarmed him far more than taking out the threat.
“Ash. Ash!”
In their ears came Con’s voice, low and urgent. “Charlie 8, report!”
“Lone shooter. Dropped him,” he fired off to his CO.
“What just happened?” Ellory’s cry forced his full attention to her.
“You tell me. You’re cleared to work with every agency. Why didn’t you pull your weapon?”
“I-I don’t have one. I don’t need one because everyone I work with has one!”
“I’m getting that information a little late!”
“I told you I should stay on base!” Her voice rose a notch with an edge of hysteria. She stared at the dead guy on the floor and her knees buckled. In slow motion, she began to slide down the wall she’d backed against when he motioned her away from the door.
In three strides he was on her. He gripped her by the elbows and pinned her to the wall with his body, blocking her view of the man on the floor.
Her blue eyes were fixated, pupils blown so wide that it darkened the depths by two shades. One trembling hand lifted to latch on to his shirt, and his heart squeezed hard in reflex.
She started to slip to the floor again, and he locked his hips to hers and cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Listen to me. You’re safe.”
“No, no, no,” she whispered under her breath over and over until he could take it no more.
He crushed his mouth to hers, stopping her flow of words—of fear. The kiss was slow and gentle, but with enough pressure to send a dark need through him.
She trembled, lips going softer with every second that passed. When he pulled back, her eyes were focused again.
“That was a bad idea,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound sorry.” Her words were a breathless rasp.
He searched her face. Ghostly white and beautiful, her lips a scant inch away, plump and damp from the kiss he never should have given in to.
