Page 10 of Every Last Breath

From the looks of her, he was about to get one anyway. Maddox was coiled, tail rattling, fangs bared and poised to strike his gonads—then something in her shifted. Shuttering her gaze, she flattened her mouth in a grim line and folded her arms.

“I need to speak to him alone,” she said to Frick and Frack. The men exchanged glances and gave her a questioning look. “Two minutes. Please.”

They nodded and left, closing the door. Heavy footsteps drew away out of earshot.

She crossed the room and crouched between his legs. “I never wanted you restrained, but they insisted.” The note of sincerity from her struck a sensitive chord in him he despised.

Holding his gaze, she patted down his legs, working toward his shins.

Her hand froze on the hilt of his knife. “Nice to see some things stay the same.”

She wriggled his pant leg up, pulled the Ka-Bar, and cut the flex-cuffs on his ankles. Casting a furtive glance toward the door, she hustled behind his chair and freed his hands.

Cole leapt out of the chair and whirled, pinning her against the wall with a hand on her throat, not hard enough to hurt her, only to compel a straight answer from her fork-tongued mouth. But an electric frisson skipped over his skin, stilling him. That magnetic pull to her revived. No matter how much time had passed, it’d never been extinguished.

Talk about fucked up.

“Don’t crowd me,” she said low and controlled, not a flicker of fear in her fiery eyes.

“Or what?”

Tapping on his inner thigh drew his gaze down. She had the tip of his Ka-Bar pointed at his groin. He glanced lower, noticing her shoes.

She wore black tactical field boots. The cushy, expensive kind, same as Frick and Frack.

Who had she become? “What’s going on, Maddox? Why are you with those men?”

“We don’t have much time before they come back.” Her gaze darted to the door. “You won’t be able to take the three of us.”

The words had an unexpected sting. “That’s the first time you said us not meaning you and me.” Damn, had that been his out-loud voice?

An unguarded look broke on her face, vulnerable and somber. “You’re the one who left and never looked back.”

She was the one who had wronged him. Every action he’d taken since had been justified. Still, there was a pathetic niggle of regret.

He forced his grip to slacken and stepped back.

She flipped the matte-black blade in her hand like a badass, handle pointing to him. A shimmer of pride and a hint of alarm seeped through him.

He took the knife and shoved it in the ankle sheath. As he stood upright, she draped the beads around his neck, fingers caressing his collarbone, and handed him the key to his bike.

“I had them get your motorcycle. It’s parked on the west side of the house. Go out through the window. Lay low until nightfall, somewhere the Russians won’t find you.” Honest concern shone in her eyes. “Then come to my place. My address is written on a piece of paper in your pocket. You’ll be safe there and I’ll explain everything.”

She pressed her palms to his chest, her expression softening. He couldn’t help soaking in the bittersweet familiarity of her touch and the intimacy in her gaze. Emotions he’d buried in an unmarked grave in DC, where his previous life had ended, resurrected with a ridiculous kick.

“I need your help. It’s a matter of life or death. Please, come.” Her emphatic tone tugged at him, and he needed a swift boot heel to the head to snap out of it. “I’ll answer any question.”

“Any?” Just like that, she had him hooked. For him, any condensed to one. Why had she betrayed him?

She squeezed her eyes shut for a breath, the faintest quiver running through her, and nodded before glancing at the door. “Hurry, before they come back.”

He hesitated. Would she be okay alone with them?

It was insanity to be concerned for her. Then again, she’d always triggered his protective instincts. At one time, his entire world had revolved around Maddox, and her safety had been more important than his own.

He would’ve sworn by now he was immune to her, but she was an incurable disease out of remission and might put him six feet under for real.

He gritted his teeth against the prickle of sentiment. She’d be fine—shed her skin and slither out of trouble.