Chapter 25
TARA
Knox had parked his truck in our building’s basement parking, so we just took that for our little grab-and-go excursion. I’d offered to drive, considering he was shot in the leg, but the man was adamant as hell. He’d popped two painkillers and gotten behind the wheel.
I sat quietly fuming beside him. “Why do I have to come with you? You’re what, nearly forty years old? Can’t you pack your own stuff? You already know where I live.”
He bit his lip as if trying not to smile. “Have I told you that you look adorable when you’re angry? And I’m thirty-five. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight, and I do not look adorable. I’ve never looked adorable. What the fuck is going on here? Weren’t you stalking me, a criminal, for information? Why are you flirting with me all of a sudden?”
How was this man changing his tune this quickly? Sure, his flirty words made me feel like a hundred butterflies had taken flight in my stomach and swooped straight into my heart. His steady, unflinching gaze on my scarred side had an inferno burning bright under my skin.
Usually, people couldn’t look away from my face because they couldn’t help but stare at the monstrosity and disaster it had turned into.
Nobody—nobody—looked at my scarred side as if it was the most magnificent view they’d seen in their life.
As if my fucking face was so eye-catching, so captivating, that they just couldn’t look away.
Only Knox Steele looked at me with that kind of unflinching obsession. His gaze burned me. Set every nerve ending of my skin on fire. Had my core pulsing with that aching need only he could quench.
I had to be careful. Very careful.
I could get addicted to feeling his gaze on me. Addicted to the power that throbbed in my veins when he wouldn’t look away.
He could be my salvation, but he could also be my ultimate ruin.
His voice—the dark, heavy thrum that hit my sternum—reached me, pulling me out of my internal panic. “You showed me your place properly. I thought I’d give you the same courtesy.”
As if I wasn’t unreasonably curious and crazy about this cat-and-mouse game already, I just rolled my eyes. “Fine. You have thirty minutes to pack everything you need.”
“I’ll only need fifteen.”
He lived in a quiet neighborhood in the Upper West Side, with beautiful brownstones and historic apartments lining the streets.
Clearly, he came from some money. He slowed the car as we neared his apartment building, looking for a parking spot.
“Did you break in from the main entrance?” he asked, starting to parallel park between two cars.
His hand grabbed the headrest of my seat as he looked back, despite there being a perfectly good screen on the dashboard showing the rear view from the camera.
His perfectly handsome face bent toward me in the process, his muscular forearm, his veiny fingers, resting shamelessly close to my face.
My heart picked up its beat as the scent of his musk washed over me.
What was it about him doing this move that had me panting in my seat? “Can’t you fucking reverse by looking at the screen here?”
He chuckled, and his minty breath washed across my shoulder, making goose bumps rise along my arm.
He moved his lips even closer to my ear, so close they almost grazed my skin, turning the rising heat in my core to a blazing inferno.
“If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to do this. ” With that, he nipped my ear.
I shrieked. “Gross.”
He laughed. “Liar.”
Once he’d parked the car properly, I stepped out onto the sidewalk while he got out along the road. I’d just taken a step toward his building when something whizzed past my ear.
“Get down.” Knox’s voice boomed, and my body instantly reacted.
I slammed down on my knees, pulled out the two guns—one from the back of my pants and another from my boots—and took position right behind the hood of the car. “Knox, what the fuck happened? Where are you?” I shouted, right as a ra-ta-ta of bullets slammed into the hood, making me duck lower.
“Fuck. Right here,” he yelled from behind me.
“Fuck, you scared me.” I glared and threw him his gun—the one that I’d apprehended after I shot him. “Thought you might need this.”
“Thank you.” Immediately, he got up and fired four shots across the sidewalk toward where the bullets were coming from.
“Who are these people?” I ducked as another shot pinged on the hood, and I immediately took aim at the head poking from behind the hood of a car across the street.
“Fucking Russians,” he spat, firing four more shots. “They must be retaliating after we burned down their three hideouts.”
“How many?” I asked, ducking low. He clenched his jaw as he took aim over the roof of the car. His muscles bunching and his eyes blazing with fury had my stomach fluttering in the middle of the stupid shoot-out.
“Six. I took down two. Four to go.”
I took aim, and my bullet slammed straight into the forehead of one of them. “Three now.”
Knox met my eyes as the barrage of bullets started to hit his car, shattering the windows, the glass debris hitting his torso and my face.
I blocked my face with my arm, but a few tiny pieces still managed to hit my cheek.
Fury hit Knox’s face, and he immediately bent lower, bringing his face right up against mine.
“Be fucking careful,” he yelled, before firing three more shots across the street.
“Fuck,” he yelled. “They’re just stalling us, waiting for us to run out of ammo. They’re using machine guns. Once we’re done, they’ll be on us.”
“Well, if that’s the case, might as well take the fight to them. No point in playing games.”
“No.”
“Yes. I’m better at hand-to-hand combat anyway.”
He took another aim and pulled the trigger. “Two to go.”
“Perfect. One for you, and one for me. Let’s fight it out. Be done with it. Hand-to-hand would be easier.”
He glared at me. “In case you’ve forgotten, you shot me in the fucking leg. I can’t run. And it won’t be fucking hand-to-hand combat. It would be hand-to-machine-gun combat. Are you out of your mind, Tara?”
Fuck, my name on his lips hit me right in the chest. It took another barrage of bullets to drag me out of the mushy puddle at his feet.
I shook my head and glared at the giant idiot. “It won’t be hand-to-gun for long. Not if I disarm them. From there, it’s easy.”
“Absolutely not. You won’t be running after them alone. I won’t stand for it. Stay behind me.”
I scoffed, looked for the opening since they’d just hit us with a round of bullets, and yelled, “Cover me.” And without looking back, I threw my gun toward him and sprinted across the street.
Loud shouts from Knox hit my ears before he started shooting double rounds of bullets where the two remaining Russians took cover.
I jumped up and slid over the trunk of the car, landing right behind one of the Russians.
The fucker had barely even noticed me before I wrapped my arm around his neck and twisted it, killing him on the spot.
I had no time to waste, as the remaining guy noticed me and aimed his gun right at my chest.
Keeping the dead Russian in front of me as a human shield, I ran toward him, the dead body taking five bullets before I threw the deadweight on top of the last remaining Russian. He flew back, toppling to the ground, and losing his gun under the weight of his dead friend.
By the time he freed himself and reached for the gun, I kicked it right from under his hand, before slamming a roundhouse kick to his face, knocking him out.
Right then, Knox landed in front of me, panting and heaving like his ass was on fire. I dragged my gaze along his body, checking for injuries, before I put my hands on my waist and shrugged. “See? Hand-to-hand combat is the quickest.”
He stomped over to me—as much as he could with a limping leg—closing the short distance between us, and clutched the top of my shirt in his large fist, pulling me closer to his face. “You will not do that again, brat.”
Brat. Why did that one word bring me so much delight?
His furious gaze only added fuel to the pleasure and adrenaline pumping through my blood.
Sweat soaked my skin as I panted and raised my eyebrows at him.
I went to my tiptoes, bringing my face even closer to his, almost touching my nose to his. “Try me.”
His nostrils flared, and his fist tightened around my shirt. Snarling, vicious electricity charged the air around us as his gaze bore down at me. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill me or kiss me.
My lips burned with the need to feel his anger, his passion, his fucking worry.
For me. His breath washed upon my skin, and I bit my lip to stop a needy whimper from escaping my chest. I hadn’t felt the warm rush of a kiss, the heady feeling of being consumed by raw passion, in five long years.
Every inch of my body yearned for a taste.
A whisper against my lips. Even if it was for just a second.
The ferocity and hunger in his eyes burned me.
The urge to grab his shirt back and pull him in the mere inches had me clenching my fist hard.
Our breaths mingled, the fire in my core roared its demand, pulling me closer and closer.
Until a loud bang rang at my feet, startling me out of the quicksand of desires I was sinking into.
I yelped, pushing him away.
When I glared at him, he all but pushed his forehead against mine, and with pure fury and filth in his eyes, he growled, “You will not run into danger, leaving me behind, ever again.”
I dragged my tongue against my suddenly dry lips, deliberately fanning the flames he’d set around us. “Then get in the front before I make a run for it. You snooze, you lose.”
He shook his head, exasperation and stubborn determination etched on his face. “I will not lose you.”
With that, he let me go, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and started to push me toward his building, walking at my back as his phone rang. “Let’s go before another round of the fucking Russians come and finish the job.”