1. Chapter 1 #2
“She’s telling you to let go,” he says. “That makes it my business.”
“We have authorization to transport her.”
His gaze finds mine again.
“You getting in that car?”
“No.”
The word tears out of me.
He looks at the fingers around my wrist. “It doesn’t seem like you have that authorization.”
The man releases me.
I stumble toward the station and cradle my aching wrist against my chest.
The shorter man shifts closer to his partner. “The client requested you by name, Grim. Your club was hired as additional security. You follow our car to Vegas and keep outside threats away from the asset.”
Grim.
It sounds less like a name and more like the last thing a man hears before meeting his maker.
Grim’s expression barely changes, but tension rolls across the parking lot.
“My brief said protected transport,” he says. “It didn’t say the woman was unwilling.”
“She signed an agreement.”
“Then let the paper ride to Vegas. She said no.”
The words strike somewhere beneath my ribs.
The shorter man pulls his jacket aside, revealing the grip of a weapon. “Stay in your lane, Sinner.”
Grim’s mouth curves without humor.
“You’re standing in it.”
The tall man reaches inside his coat.
Grim moves before he can draw.
He seizes the man’s wrist and drives him face-first against the sedan’s hood. Metal buckles beneath the impact, and a gun drops from the man’s coat. Grim kicks it beneath the car as the shorter man charges.
A fist swings toward his jaw. Grim catches it, turns the man’s arm, and buries his elbow beneath the ribs. The man folds around the blow, giving Grim the opening to drive a knee into his stomach and throw him against the rear door.
The sedan rocks on its suspension.
The tall man tears himself from the hood and attacks again. Grim ducks beneath the punch, drives his shoulder into the man’s chest, and slams him backward hard enough to dent the metal.
He fights as if violence belongs to him. Every strike lands where it will do the most damage, and every movement places his body between me and the men who tried to take me.
I should be searching for an escape.
Instead, I watch rain follow the hard edge of his jaw and disappear beneath his collar. His wet shirt stretches across his chest each time he moves, while ink shifts over the muscles in his arms.
My body decides this is an excellent time to wonder how those arms would feel around me.
I am revoking its decision-making privileges.
The shorter man pushes away from the sedan and reaches behind his back.
Grim catches him by the throat and pins him against the car.
“Try it.”
The invitation comes out soft enough to make my skin tighten.
The man’s hand falls away from his weapon.
Grim releases him with a shove.
“You have no idea what you’re interfering with,” the man rasps.
Grim glances at me.
“McKenna Crane. Twenty-three. Hazel eyes. Brown coat.”
The information from his assignment, spoken as confirmation that he knows exactly why he came.
His silver gaze stays on mine.
“I know who I’m protecting.”
My breath lodges beneath my ribs.
The tall man wipes blood from his mouth. “Then deliver the asset yourself and collect the money.”
Asset.
My brother’s listing flashes through my mind again.
Grim turns his head.
“She’s not cargo.”
“Tell that to whoever bought her.”
Grim takes one step toward them.
“Get out of my town.”
Both men back toward the sedan. The taller one glances at his gun near the rear tire, but Grim shifts into his path.
The shorter man yanks open the driver’s door. His partner dives into the passenger seat, and the sedan shoots backward before the door fully closes. Tires spray water as it swings toward the road, leaving the gun in a puddle beside my fallen suitcase.
Grim turns toward me before the taillights disappear.
Fear floods back so quickly that my lungs seize.
He saved me, but he also knew my name before I spoke. Someone paid him to make certain I reached the man waiting in Las Vegas.
“Easy, Angel.”
“Stay away from me. And don’t call me that.”
He stops, but his gaze lowers to my injured wrist.
“You were hired to take me too,” I say. “A man bought a year of my life, I changed my mind, and I’m not getting on your bike so you can finish their job. I’m not marrying anyone.”
“No,” he says.
The certainty in that single word hits me harder than an argument.
“No, what?”
“You’re not getting on my bike unless you choose to.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His hand goes beneath his cut.
Terror slams through me.
Grim draws a handgun, turns it in his palm, and holds it toward me with the grip first.
“Here.”
My heartbeat pounds against my throat. “What?”
“Take it. If I force you anywhere, use it.”
I hesitate, then grab it.
It is heavier than I expect. The muzzle dips, and my finger slips inside the trigger guard.
“Easy.” Grim reaches for my hand.
His fingers brush my bruised wrist.
For one blinding second, his hand belongs to the man who crushed my wrist.
“Don’t touch me!”
I wrench away. The gun swings between us, and my hand clenches.
The shot explodes between us.
Grim twists as the bullet tears across his shoulder. Blood spreads over his charcoal shirt.
The pistol hits the pavement at my feet.
Horror empties my lungs.
“Oh my God.”
Grim looks at his shoulder. His jaw locks against the pain before those impossible silver eyes return to mine.
“You shot me, Angel.”