10. Evelyn
Pale blue eyes shot through with golden fire burned into my soul. Warmth bloomed beneath the surface of my skin, and those eyes trailed over every inch of my body, caressing me like the lick of a sensual flame. His full lips tilted in an arrogant smirk, as though he knew exactly how his intense gaze affected me; it made me acutely aware of his presence in a way I’d never experienced before.
Long fingers trailed along my collarbone, brushing my hair over my shoulder so he could explore the curve of my neck. He tested my racing pulse, and his white teeth flashed in a purely primal, wicked grin.
The effect was stunning, knocking the air from my chest. Electricity crackled along my skin, arcing between us to create a sizzling connection. Little sparks pinged over my bare flesh, the sensation almost too intense to bear.
An answering spark danced between my legs, and my core heated.
His fingers trailed lower, brushing the line of my sternum as he traced a lazy path down my body. My breasts felt full and achy, and my nipples peaked. They throbbed in time with my clit, desperate for his merciful touch.
He loomed over me, his wicked smile taunting as he caressed the curve of my breasts without touching me where I needed it most. I whined in need and arched toward his big hands, but he eluded me with a low chuckle. The slightly cruel sound rumbled through me, a vibration between my legs. My thighs grew slick: a strange, new sensation.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at my wanton reaction, but I couldn’t break from his burning gaze. His nostrils flared, a predator catching my scent. His pupils dilated, darkening with desire that matched my own.
One hand continued teasing around my breasts, a maddening touch. His other lifted to cup my cheek, his thumb hooking below my jaw. He held me as though I was made of porcelain as he tipped my head back, so I was locked in his fiery stare.
The sheer masculine perfection of his sculpted face was nearly unbearable to behold, his proximity arousing me to the edge of pain. My entire body throbbed in time with my racing heart.
“Please…”
Was that my breathy plea? I didn’t recognize my own voice in that sultry tone.
“Evelyn…”
I shuddered at the raw need imbued in that one word: my name rasped in his low, masculine rumble.
My lips parted to sigh his name in return, wanting to savor the shape of it on my tongue.
But no sound issued from my throat except for my heavy, panting breaths.
I didn’t know his name.
I didn’t know anything about this dark, beautiful stranger who held me with such aching tenderness, setting my body alight with the barest brush of his masterful hands.
Guilt turned my stomach, souring my lust.
My eyes snapped open, and I blinked several times as I struggled to adjust to reality. The familiar shadows of the cramped bedroom I shared with George coalesced around me.
George. My fiancé.
My insides twisted. I’d been dreaming about the handsome stranger who’d saved me tonight, not the man I was supposed to marry.
And my thighs were still wet with the very real arousal I’d felt in my dirty dream: a sensation I’d never experienced when I had sex with George.
I took a breath and turned to face him, intending to snuggle into his sleeping form and reassure myself that I was right where I belonged: with the man I loved.
His pillow was cool beside me. I was alone in our bed.
“George?” I murmured. My voice hitched on his name, a shadow of guilt constricting my throat.
He didn’t reply.
I rolled over and reached for my phone to check the time. It was still dark outside. Surely, he hadn’t already left for work?
1:27 AM.
“George?” I called out for him, loud enough that he’d hear me if he was in the living room or kitchen.
No reply. The apartment was silent, the only sounds coming from the street outside. It was fairly quiet at this time, but the occasional car passed, and I could hear masculine voices in what sounded like an argument. The tone of one of the voices was familiar, even though I couldn’t understand the words.
George was outside for some reason. Was one of his coworkers in trouble? I’d noticed that more than one of his fellow agents had been fairly tipsy when we’d left the bar, and they’d ordered more drinks as we’d said our goodbyes.
It was considerate of George to keep the conversation outside so that he wouldn’t disturb me, but if someone needed help—a place to crash or even just a glass of water to sober up—they were welcome to come into our apartment.
I got out of bed and grabbed one of George’s big shirts to slip on over my thin camisole. My nipples were still peaked from my illicit dream, and I needed to hide the evidence of my traitorous subconscious. I decided that my silky pink pajama shorts covered me enough to step outside for a moment and invite his coworkers in.
I’d left my sneakers by the door to the apartment, so I slipped them on quickly, not bothering to tie the laces properly before I hurried to join George.
The voices became clearer as I rushed down the short internal corridor toward the exit to the street outside. They were speaking in English, but I noted the familiar Spanish accent in the way some of the others’ voices lilted.
Odd. Most of George’s fellow agents were Americans here in Mexico City, on similar assignments.
I shook the moment of confusion away, recalling that he worked in tandem with local law enforcement. A couple of cops had been at the bar with us tonight. George hadn’t introduced us, but they’d been part of the group.
“I want my money,” I overheard as I exited the building.
That was George’s voice, an angry snap that I always dreaded in an argument.
My steps slowed. If he was in the middle of something more heated than a drunken misunderstanding, maybe I shouldn’t interfere. I paused, hesitating. All I had to do was step around the corner to join them in the quieter alley, away from the traffic on the main road.
But it sounded like I might be very unwelcome.
And what money was George talking about? I knew he liked to join in on casual bets with his friends, but I couldn’t imagine him being so angry about a few dollars.
“The boss isn’t happy,” a stranger’s voice replied, cooler than George’s heated tone. “You’re not delivering on your end of the agreement.”
“Your rivals almost killed my fiancée. If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too. You’re lucky I’m still willing to work with you at all. I’m risking my neck to do you favors. You owe me.”
My stomach churned as my thoughts slowed, sticky like honey. I couldn’t process what he was saying.
“We don’t owe you shit,” another man spat.
“I arrested three of Duarte’s men for you,” George insisted, terse and impatient.
“That’s just doing your fucking job with the feds,” the first stranger bit out. “Your boss is still investigating us. Half a dozen of us were killed in a raid last week. Where were you then?”
“I was in the hospital with my fiancée,” George growled. “I could’ve been in the ground if Duarte’s men had managed to get to me too. I’m still willing to do business with you. We can still have a profitable relationship.”
I choked as my throat constricted with horror, the meaning of his words finally sinking in. George was working with these men, these criminals. They were talking about the monsters who’d kidnapped and beaten me: their rivals. And George had known who took me all along. He’d said he needed me to tell him that information so that he could arrest the men responsible, but he knew they were Duarte’s associates.
If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too.
Now, he was demanding money from these men. These cartel members, Duarte’s rivals. Demanding a bribe.
I shook my head, as though I could toss away all knowledge of this awful conversation.
No. This wasn’t right. I was misunderstanding. George was a good man. He must be working undercover.
He must be. The alternative was too terrible to bear.
I took a shaky step back, reeling. The shoelaces I hadn’t bothered to tie properly tangled around my feet, and a shocked squeak escaped my tight chest as I fell.
A hulking stranger whipped around the corner, his eyes narrowing on me where I lay sprawled on the warm pavement. George appeared beside him, and a third man lurked at their backs.
My fiancé’s dark blue eyes widened as he took me in, his mouth going slack with horror for a moment. Then, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line that I recognized all too well. My stomach sank at the sight of it, a familiar dread that accompanied his censure.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Evie,” he rebuked.
He didn’t make a move to help me up; he simply glowered down at me where I lay on the ground.
I licked my dry lips, and my attention flicked to the two dangerous men who were half-hidden in the shadow of the alley.
“What’s happening?” I asked in a fearful whisper. “Who are they?”
But I knew. I’d heard. They worked for a cartel. And George had said…
In one smooth, lethal motion, one of the cartel members trained a gun on my heart. It didn’t have time to skip a beat before a massive shadow slammed into him. A gunshot cracked through the night air like a whip, and I tried to scramble back, instinctively seeking cover. My palms scraped on the concrete, but I didn’t manage to shuffle more than a few inches before the shadowy form of a beastly man blocked my view, looming over me.
I couldn’t force the necessary air into my chest to release a scream.
Sprinting footfalls slapped against the ground, making a quick retreat.
The shadow above me shifted, moving with swift, brutal grace. The man who’d turned the gun on me was no longer visible, but another gunshot rang out. My protective shadow let out an animal snarl, and in the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the dark alley.
A choked sound of protest caught in my throat, and I reached out as though I could somehow stop him and drag him away from the danger.
A sharp scream emanated from the alley before it was cut short.
Another set of sprinting footsteps, and I caught a glimpse of a second shadowy form running away from the fight.
I tried to stand, but I couldn’t seem to move; my muscles were locked up tight, frozen in place. For a few fleeting seconds, all I could hear was a tinny ringing in my ears and the heavy, sawing sound of my gasping breaths.
Deep in my bones, I knew who’d fought off the man who’d tried to kill me. I’d recognized that massive, shadowy form, even from behind. The streetlights had shined on the glossy black curls that I’d just been dreaming about.
I heaved out a relieved breath when he appeared at the mouth of the alley, stunning blue eyes piercing the darkness to find mine. My thoughts were scrambled, disjointed. Everything was too much to process: George’s traitorous conversation, having a gun trained on my heart, and the swift, brutal fight that’d saved me.
George. Where was he?
The alley was silent behind my savior. Someone had screamed…
“George.” I managed to squeak his name as I struggled to stand, but I couldn’t get my shaking legs to support me.
My savior’s eyes narrowed, his square jaw ticking. “He ran.”
Before I could tumble back to the ground, strong arms closed around me, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. The scent of leather and amber enfolded me, and I found myself tucked close against his broad chest.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, but I didn’t struggle. I trusted this dark stranger who’d just saved my life.
I couldn’t untangle my thoughts to wonder how he was here at the right time. The vague notion that he might work with the DEA flitted around the edges of my mind—he had been at the bar, after all—but fear still drenched my senses, sapping my ability to think clearly.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he rumbled in reply. “They might have friends nearby.”
He carried me across the street in a few long, sure strides. A motorcycle waited at the curb, and he carefully set me down so that I was straddling the seat. A helmet lowered over my head.
I didn’t protest. My heart still slammed against my ribcage, everything in me driving me to flight. My trembling limbs wouldn’t cooperate; I couldn’t run away. So, I allowed the stranger to help me. He’d protected me twice now. He’d jumped in front of a bullet for me.
He must work with law enforcement to be so coolheaded in the face of mortal danger. He would take me somewhere safe, probably the police station. George would meet us there. Maybe my instincts were wrong. He might be working undercover.
He ran, the stranger had said.
The sound of those retreating footsteps echoed through my mind, and I shook them away.
George must have pursued the man who’d fled the scene. He wouldn’t just leave me when an armed criminal was threatening my life.
If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too.
The memory of his awful frown and the cold disapproval in his eyes filled my mind, the terrible moment playing over and over again in a sickening loop. The two men in the alley with him worked for the cartel. One of them had pulled a gun on me, and George had done nothing. I’d recognized his disapproving glower all too well from our tense arguments, but the man who’d so callously stood by while my life was in danger was a stranger to me.
My tangled thoughts consumed me, but my savior didn’t seem afflicted by the same distractions. Once the helmet was secure, he quickly got on the bike, and it roared to life beneath us.
“Hold on to me,” he barked over the sound of the growling engine.
My arms wrapped around him, and my fingers knotted in his soft cotton shirt. I molded my body tightly against his back, clinging to him like he was my lifeline. He tensed as I squeezed his ribs, and his chest rumbled on a low grunt. The half-feral sound was swallowed by the roar of the motorcycle as we sped off into the night.
We wound our way through the city, dodging traffic far too fast on the busier streets. I shut my eyes tight, but the dark stranger seemed calm and confident, his breathing only hitching slightly when we made a particularly jarring swerve. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my clutching hands, and it was strong and steady. The fear that was making my own heart work overtime didn’t seem to affect him, even though he’d been the one to risk his life to save mine. He could’ve been shot when he’d thrown himself into the fight, knocking the gun aside so that the bullet missed me.
And George…
My fiancé hadn’t tried to save me. Where was he now?
He ran.
I swallowed against the acid that burned my throat and tucked myself impossibly closer to my savior. He would take us to safety.
I leaned into the beautiful stranger, instinctively seeking his protection once again.