Page 6 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

I rise easily, avoiding his sluggish swing, and reach for my medical bag. He’s too far gone to understand what he’s doing. If he keeps thrashing, he’ll finish killing himself before the EMTs arrive.

The gunshot cracks through the apartment. My ears ring instantly.

His head snaps back. A neat, dark hole blooms in his forehead.

“Ettie, what the hell did you just do?”

I rip off my blood-slick gloves and toss them aside as I move toward her. My hand cups her face, and my thumb brushes the wetness on her cheek. I have no idea what just happened, but the woman I love is coming apart in front of me. She needs me to help her fix this. I need to help anchor her and remind her she’s safe.

She shakes her head violently and stumbles backward until her shoulders hit the door with a dull thud.

“You need to leave.”

“No.”

I close the distance between us in two strides. The heat of her body radiates against mine. Her gun lowers an inch, then another, until it hangs beside her trembling thigh. I ease it from her fingers and set it on the entry table with a soft click.

My hand returns to her face immediately, cradling her jaw, willing her to see me through the panic.

“You have to.” Her voice breaks. “He was a bad man, Julian. He did things you don’t understand. He didn’t deserve to live, and you shouldn’t have tried to save him.”

Her eyes flutter shut, and she shakes her head.

“Tell me what he did,” I say. “Why, babydoll?”

With another step, I push my thigh in between her legs.

“Ettie, talk to me.”

She opens her eyes and stares at me for one more shattered second. Her head tilts back, and her look of despair is enough to gut me. Then she grabs my shirt and yanks my mouth down to hers.

“No,” she says on a breath. “I don’t want to talk.” Then she kisses me again, harder this time.

My fingers tangle in her hair, and I pull her close. Maybe I’m trying to rid her of whatever demons made her pull the trigger.

Legs wrap around my waist, and my hands go under each of her thighs, pulling her higher.

I press her back to the wall, my breath tearing out of me when her hand shoves beneath the waistband of my sweats. She pulls out my cock and drags my sweatpants down just enough for her to take what she needs.

“This is my favorite way to fuck you, Ettie. Is this what my babydoll needs?”

I push inside her without giving her time to answer, and her wet heat closes around me so tightly my vision blurs.

She’s still crying, and I’m faintly aware I’m fucking my girl in front of a dead man. A man she killed. I should stop and get her to talk to me. But she needs this more right now. She clings tighter with every thrust, like she is trying to climb inside of me.

“Julian, you shouldn’t have tried to save him,” she whispers against my mouth.

“I’m a doctor. I will always try to save people.”

With a deeper thrust, I pin her in place with my hip. My palm slams against the wall beside her head.

“And I want to destroy them all,” she says, barely loud enough to hear.

“Babydoll, what are you talking about?”

“You need to go.” Her voice splinters. “This was a mistake. Us…”

Even though she told me to go, she’s sucking me in with her cunt. Her skin is cold now beneath my lips as I kiss along her collarbone, searching for the place that always makes her melt against me.