I bolt through the front door and into the street, my heart pounding in my throat, the gun still clenched in my hand.
And I slam straight into Nick.
His arms come around me instantly. Solid. Safe. “Enya? What the?—”
Behind me, the man bursts out of the shop.
Nick moves before I can blink.
One second, he’s holding me. The next, he’s got the man pinned against the brick wall, arm twisted brutally behind his back.
“Touch her again,” Nick snarls, “and see what happens.”
The man spits words out in Russian.
Nick’s jaw flexes, and he replies in Russian.
Then he knocks the man out cold.
You learn something new about your baby daddy every day, I think, feeling hysteria build, and today I learned that he’s good at hand-to-hand combat and speaks Russian.
I stand, shaking, the gun dangling uselessly from my fingers, my brain registering absurd details—like how much that must’ve hurt Nick’s knuckles.
Nick drags the man inside Lucille’s. I follow, my legs moving me like I’m a robot.
He grabs the thick twist ties I use to secure bouquets, and turns them into makeshift cuffs, binding the man to the leg of the counter like it’s second nature. He pats the unconscious Russian down, finds a weapon, and slips it into his jacket pocket.
He wore a suit today. He doesn’t look like a man who wears suits right now, though.
He looks feral.
And terrifying.
And…hot.
Nick turns back to me, his eyes scanning every inch of my body like he needs proof I’m still intact. “Did he hurt you?”
He already has his phone out, already calling someone.
“N-no,” I manage.
“Yeah,” he says into the phone. “He’s here.” Pause. “No, he’s alive.” Pause. “Yes, he’s secured.”
He hangs up, and focuses on me. He gently takes the gun from my hand and tucks it into the small of his back. Then he settles me against him.
That’s all it takes for me to rather spectacularly…break.
It’s the adrenaline. That’s what I tell myself as my knees go weak and I cling to him, the only solid thing left in the world.
He cups my face, forcing me to look at him.
“I could’ve lost you,” he says, his voice shaking.
“You didn’t.”
He swallows hard. “Marry me.”
“Nick—”
