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oon. Hell, he hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed. He could feel the blood soaking his shoulder, arm, and side. Those knives had been razor sharp and there had been too many to avoid all at once.
He grinned at the thought of that as he pulled his keys from his jeans and found the Harley. Checking it out, he didn’t take long to find the little device created to trigger a spark into the gas line. He would have been toast if that little baby had gone off.
Unlocking a saddlebag, he slid it inside along with the handgun, checked out the cycle again then watched as Nicolas eased from the shadows at the back of the bar. His eyes met Noah’s for one long, telling moment.
The big Russian had watched the fight, obviously. His gaze flickered over Noah.
“You’re bleeding. Do you need a ride?” His voice was low as he approached Noah.
“I’ll be fine.”
Nik inclined his head then and continued on to the four-wheel-drive pickup he was driving. At this point, they couldn’t afford to show an association. If Noah had been in danger of losing, Nik would have stepped forward. But not until then.
Noah straddled the motorcycle and started the motor as he put it in gear and headed for the apartment.
He could feel the blood trickling beneath his clothes, dampening them, and now he wished he’d killed at least one of the sons of bitches. Because they’d definitely messed up a hell of a plan for tonight. That of visiting his wife.
That plan was about to be axed, and that just pissed him off. So maybe she could handle the sight of the blood, but she was going to demand answers. And answers weren’t something Noah was ready to give.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sabella waited. She watched the window, listened carefully through dinner, and by the time she heard the Harley’s hard throbbing purr pulling in behind the garage, she was furious.
It was after midnight.
She paced the living room, pausing at the windows and staring down at the garage apartment. There weren’t any lights on. What man didn’t turn on the lights when he arrived home?
Except, her husband. Nathan hadn’t needed lights either.
She was nervous and she couldn’t explain why. The more she stared down at the apartment the more the impulse to go down to him filled her.
The sexual crisis was over, she told herself. She’d had him, she should be okay now. Except she wasn’t, and this wasn’t just about the sex. It was about the pounding in her head, pushing her to go to him, to check on him.
Hell, he was over thirty, he didn’t need a keeper.
He was thirty-four.
She pressed her hands to her stomach, over the thin sleeveless T-shirt she wore. He was the same age as her husband.
Sabella shook her head. She wasn’t going there and she wasn’t going to go down to that apartment to have sex with him either, she told herself as she slipped her sneakers on and tied them.
Grabbing her keys from her purse, she left the house and within minutes she was pulling her little car in behind the garage.
She had the key to the apartment in her hand. She shouldn’t just walk in on him, she told herself, even as she moved quickly up the back steps to the deck. After all, he could have brought a friend back with him. He could be busy. In the shower. Any number of things. But she jammed the key into the door, stepped inside, and before she could gasp found herself jerked inside, the door slamming closed as she was pushed against the wall.
Dangerous, tense. The hard arm that lay across her neck was Noah’s, the almost feverish glitter in his navy blue eyes was predatory, intense.
“Do you like living dangerously?” he asked her softly, his face too close to hers, his hard body, mostly naked, pressing into hers. “I’m not to desecrate that hallowed marriage bed of yours, but you can slip in here any time you please?”
His voice was grating. It raked across her nerves, fired nerve synapses that triggered chills racing across her body as she stared up at him through the darkness.
His arm slid from across her throat, but he didn’t release her. His hands gripped her hips and jerked her up to him, even as another gasp parted her lips.
He wasn’t just mostly naked. He was naked. And hard. The full, pounding length of his cock pressed into her lower stomach as he watched her with heated, absorbed interest.
“We needed to talk.” Her hands pressed against his shoulders, and it took only a second for awareness to seep into her brain.
She felt the slight flinch as she pressed against him, as though the flesh were tender. He was damp, he’d obviously come from the shower, she could feel the water on his flesh, and something slick, perhaps remnants of soap. His hair was wet, his shadowed expression was harsh.
