38. Give. Me. Back. My. Phone.
38
GIVE. ME. BACK. MY. PHONE.
RORY
S torming out into the cool night air, my cheeks heat with both rage and embarrassment. The line waiting outside the club is still long despite the late hour, so I take off in the opposite direction down the sidewalk. I need to get away from the crowd.
The heels on my boots click against the concrete while I unlock my phone to pull up the ride-share app.
There’s no way in hell I’m waiting around here for a ride home with Liv. The way she was curled around the Breakers’ center… I’m not sure she’s planning on taking us home at all.
The sound of heavy footsteps behind me has me instantly on edge. I feel fine—a little buzzed—but, I’ve still got my wits about me.
I pretend to bury my nose in my phone as I walk, subtly fingering the hemline of my skirt, just below where I’ve strapped the small knife I started wearing after everything went down with the O’Rourkes. I still need to convince Niko to get me my own gun.
The footsteps grow closer, moving fast as if they are trying to catch up to me. When a hand lands on my arm, I’m ready. I snatch the knife from its sheath and spin around, pressing the knife right up against my attacker’s— Aidan’s— throat.
“Aidan?”
Of-fucking-course it’s Aidan. I have one hand against his hard chest and the other hand gripping the knife tightly and pressing it purposefully against his throat. The cold steel glints in the dim glow of the streetlight.
His hand is no longer on my arm. Instead, he has them both raised up, palms facing me in surrender. The initial wide eyed shock I saw on his face has morphed into a wicked smile. “Little lion’s got claws.”
“Don’t call me that.” I drop the knife from his throat, knowing full well he could take it from me in a second if he wanted. “What do you want Aidan?” Honestly, hasn’t he done enough?
He looks around at the deserted sidewalk. “How are you getting home?”
The question’s unexpected. I sigh, lifting my phone and giving it a little shake, showing off the half-completed ride request.
“Seriously?” His eyes narrow on my screen. “Absolutely not.” He crosses his arms and gives me a stern look. Where does he get the nerve?
“What, did you think I was going to call Niko to come get me?” I give him a long look. “Do you think I have a death wish?” I turn and continue down the sidewalk, away from the bar and away from Aidan. I look around for a street name to enter into the ride-share app.
Aidan’s hand comes down over my shoulder, plucking the phone right out of my hands.
“Hey!” I leap after it, clawing for the device. But he uses height to his advantage, easily pulling the phone out of reach. Grinning down at me, he’s clearly amused.
It’s enough to make me explode. I punch him, hard, catching him by surprise. Shock and delight dance in those emerald eyes. “I didn’t take you as one who likes to play dirty Kostalova.” he laughs.
“Give. Me. Back. My. Phone.” I seethe, contemplating pulling out the knife again.
“No.” The smirk on Aidan’s face is enough to make my blood boil as he slips my phone into the front pocket of his jeans. Taunting, dismissive and utterly infuriating. My eyes track the movement and as soon as he deposits it, I make a dive for his jeans.
He easily fends me off, trapping my wrists in his rough hands and pulling them away from his groin. “Easy there love, didn’t know you were so eager to get into my pants.” Again with that damn Irish accent. He winks at me and I crinkle my nose in disgust.
I open my mouth to give him an earful, but I’m cut off as Aidan scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I kick my feet and beat my fists into his back. “What are you doing?” I shout, looking around for any bystanders who can help. But the side street I’ve walked us down is completely deserted. “Put. Me. Down.” A closed fist hit to his lower back accompanies each word.
“No thanks, kitten. Someone’s gotta make sure you get home safe and stay the fuck out of Cam Reeves’ bed.”
The nerve of this guy. “Not your job,” I point out. “I can sleep with whatever asshole I want to.”
He jostles me on his shoulder, and I let out a grunt. He repositions me so he can wrap his biceps around my flailing legs, pinning them down against his chest. “That asshole has a reputation for drugging his little conquests. I thought I was doing you a favor. Unless unconscious non-con is your flavor of choice?”
I still in his arms, processing the words.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Fine,” I huff out, letting my body deflate and giving him the win. “But I want to go home.” But Aidan is carrying me back toward the bar.
“Where the fuck do you think we’re going?”
He comes to a stop, sliding me down his chest until my feet are firmly planted back on the ground. I’m calmer now—still digesting what he just told me. Aidan gestures to the left of us and I look over to see we’re standing on the curb right next to an awfully familiar matte black bike. I recognize the little holographic green shamrock on the fuel tank. It’s the same one I have painted on my stomach.
“No.”
“Yes.”
He steps away to retrieve the helmet he has hanging on his handlebars, keeping one eye on me, as if he expects me to bolt.
I haven’t ruled out that very possibility myself... “ You’re taking me home?” I eye him warily before looking around for potential witnesses to another Irish kidnapping. The line outside of Last Call has finally filed through, but there are a few people still milling about.
The wind picks up and I shiver, noticing the cold for the first time. Both my anger, and the warmth Aidan had unintentionally provided, ebbing out of me.
The Breakers’ defenseman looks me over, the amused smirk on his face turning into a frown. He reaches over, grabbing his motorcycle hoodie off his bike and offering it to me.
Weighing my options, I glance between him and the sweatshirt. I’m not getting very far in my skirt and heels without my phone. I could go back in the bar and find the girls, but he’d only follow me inside.
Letting out a defeated sigh, I take the hoodie, shrugging it on. It’s heavy, armored and black, the color I’ve come to associate with Aidan. I roll my eyes like it’s an inconvenience, but relax into the warmth of the sweatshirt. Next, I take the helmet and pull it over my head.
Aidan pulls a matching one over his own, disappearing behind a blacked out visor before mounting the bike. The engine rumbles to life under him. He swings his head back, looking at me expectantly. “Get on the bike, Kostalova.”
I look to the stars, swearing under my breath, as I climb on the back of Aidan’s bike.
My already short skirt rides up with the motion and I scoot closer to Aidan so no one can see between my legs. As soon as I wrap my arms securely around him, he takes off, forcing me to cling even tighter as he leans into the first turn.
The sight of the pavement rising to greet us has me squeezing him tight. Once we level out, I feel a reassuring hand graze my thigh. He leaves it there until my body relaxes and the death grip I have on his shirt loosens. Aidan brings his hand back to his handlebars, focusing on the road ahead.
It’s a short ride back to the mansion and before I know it, Aidan’s hitting the kill switch. I’m almost disappointed. He pulls off at the end of my street. I’m off the bike as quick as I am able, nearly falling off in my haste. I pull the helmet off my head and hand it to him before pulling his hoodie off, too.
He watches me and takes the jacket back without a word, putting it on. An expression I can’t even begin to decipher forms on his face.
I rock impatiently on my heels and hold out a palm to him. “My phone,” I huff out when he still doesn’t move.
“Right.” Aidan reaches into his pocket, and slides out my cell. He holds it up to my face, front camera out. I watch my phone unlock.
“Hey...” I reach for it, but he pulls it back, typing something into it. I strain to see around his shoulder, watching as he hits the green call button. His own phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out before handing mine back to me.
I take it. Displeasure pulls at the corners of my lips, when I realize he just gave himself my phone number.
“Text me when you’re inside the house.”
I roll my eyes.
“Text me Kostalova.” His eyes flash dangerously.
“Why do you even care?”
“Because kidnapped Russian angels are bad for business.” His left eyebrow lifts and he sits back on his bike, arms folded, watching me with an air of expectation.
“Fine.” I grip my cell tightly in my fist and stalk off down the street. I’m fully aware Aidan’s eyes follow me the entire way. I might swing my hips just a little more than necessary just to fuck with him. When I finally reach the gate, I slow down, raising a middle finger to the sky before hearing a bike rev to life and slowly fade away into the distance.