AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Goddamn you, Crista!”
She recogniz
ed that voice.
Jerking her head up from the sight of the bloody mess her assailant’s face was now, she stared back at the dark figure, Law Enforcement emblazoned across the bulletproof jacket he was jerking from his broad chest.
“Put it on, damn you!” His voice was a hard rasp, guttural, animalistic, as he jerked her around and strapped her into the vest until the black velco strips were holding it snugly to her chest and back.
“Let’s go!” Hard gloved fingers wrapped around her arm as, with a shove, the crate she had been fighting to move was pushed back as though it were no more than a heavy box. “Move it!”
He pushed her through the opening before gripping her arm again and pulling her through the dark.
“What’s going on?” She breathed out roughly. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t cry. All she could do was follow Dawg.
And she knew it was Dawg. Those brilliant celadon green eyes, that dark, male, honeyed voice.
No other man sounded like Dawg. No other man moved like him or smelled like him.
And besides, it was just her dumb luck. He was here. She was here. Hell was erupting around her. Fate was laughing her ass off, and it was all Dawg’s fault.
“Shut up!” he snarled, not even bothering to so much as try to explain as he pushed her through the darkness. “Keep your mouth shut, keep your head down, and if God is in a good mood today, I might be able to save your ass. ”
Save her ass?
“But I was just here—”
“Just fucking save it. ” He pushed her against something cement, the dim light that spilled in from overhead windows emphasizing the enraged flames in his eyes. “I just killed a man for you, princess. A man worth a hell of a lot more alive than he was dead. Now shut your goddamned mouth and do exactly what I say. Exactly. Or I’ll slap cuffs on you and haul you in so fast, you won’t have time to twitch that pretty ass of yours. ”
Before she could process the fact that they were racing from the back of the warehouse, Dawg was lifting her into the backseat of his black four-by-four double cab pickup. He pulled the bulletproof vest from her and jerked it back on, his eyes glowing with rage as his fingers tangled in her hair. He stared down at her, remorseless, before gripping the bottom of her T-shirt and wiping it roughly over her lower face.
Blood. She shuddered at the thought. Someone else’s blood stained her now. Then Dawg forced her head back a second before his lips covered hers.
Gunfire receded. Reality dimmed. The world narrowed down to his lips slanted over hers, his tongue pressing between them as hers opened. Electricity sparked, exploded, and sizzled through her head with a dazzling display of color as pleasure tore through her system.
Eight years without him. Without this. Without the hunger that consumed and burned away the ragged wound in her soul that leaving him eight years before had left inside her.
Her hands curled against the bulletproof vest, and a whimper that shocked her vibrated from her throat as he tore his lips from hers as quickly as he had taken them.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed, shocked, as he glared back at her.
“Where did you park?” he snapped out.
Her lips trembled as she fought to drag in enough air to answer him.
“The back lot,” she whispered as he jerked her purse open and before she could stop him, pulled her keys from inside.
“You’re damned lucky your car wasn’t here when this started, Crista,” he snarled. “Luckier than you’ll ever know. Now, lie down. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t twitch. So help me God, if you give yourself away in here, I’ll toss you into a cell so deep and so dark you won’t know up or down. Do we have that clear?”
She tried to nod, just as she was trying to breathe. A second later he was pushing her to the seat, pressing her cheek into the fine black leather with a harsh order to “Stay,” before the door slammed and he was gone.
And she was alone. She could still hear the gunfire, but it was distant and easing away. It was replaced with shouted orders, vehicles moving, and strident calls.
Inside the truck she shuddered, drew her knees to her chest, and tried to still the shaking in her body.
Shock. She knew she must be having some kind of shock reaction, because it was the middle of the summer. She shouldn’t be freezing so much she was shaking; breathing shouldn’t be hard. And God help her if she puked in Dawg’s truck. He would probably shoot her himself.
She forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly, to draw in the scent of Dawg that permeated his truck and filled her senses with memories. Memories she had fought to forget for eight long years.
