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The car horn blared again, followed by more cursing from a different masculine voice. A tremor wracked my body, adrenaline spiking higher than ever. My nerves were jittery, my mind a tangled mess.
“Fuck off,” Max snapped back at the enraged driver who was currently cussing me out. He pulled me closer, and I realized my legs shook so badly that I couldn’t put any weight on my feet. Max’s strong grip was the only thing holding me upright.
An engine revved, and the person who’d almost hit me with his car sped off, leaving me alone with the mercurial man who’d drugged and kidnapped me. The man I’d been about to confront when I’d fallen in the street and nearly been killed.
The two different traumas warred for my emotional attention—almost getting run over and being held captive by Max.
My body seemed more preoccupied with the almost getting run over thing, because I couldn’t seem to unlatch my fingers from his bulging biceps.
Keeping his firm grip around my waist, Max hauled me farther away from the street and set me down on a bus stop bench. My hands were still locked on his arms when he released me and dropped to his knees.
“Are you insane?” he demanded, his voice taking on the rough, furious tone that’d frightened me so much last night. The beast was snarling at me, practically vibrating with anger.
But I was running on pure adrenaline, and my entire being was too wrapped up in the residual horror of almost getting flattened to focus on the threat Max should pose.
“Are you?” I snapped back, still riding the strange, reckless high that’d claimed me when I’d first started stomping toward him with grim purpose. “You’re stalking me,” I reminded him. As though either of us could forget it.
A flash of white through those dark curls as he rolled his eyes at me. “I was making sure you kept your promise not to tell anyone about last night. I’m not a threat to you.”
“Well, you’re sure doing a good job of acting threatening.”
He huffed out an exasperated breath, and his long fingers skated down my leg, starting just beneath the hem of my modest pencil skirt. Rough callouses tingled over my pebbled flesh, my every nerve alive from the adrenaline dump as he caressed my knee before working his way downward.
“What are you doing?” My voice hitched slightly on the demand, probably shaking from residual fear.
“Checking to make sure you didn’t break your damn ankle, Bambi,” he rumbled, applying light pressure to the delicate bones beneath the thin strap of my designer heels. His big hands were shockingly gentle, touching me the way one might handle an injured bird.
“Bambi?” I repeated, breathless from the shock of having my massive captor handle me with such aching care, as though his thick fingers might break me if he applied the barest pressure.
“Yep,” he declared decisively, his full focus on my ankle rather than my face. “You have those big, innocent eyes; long, unsteady legs; and no sense of self-preservation.”
“I don’t want you to call me Bambi.” Did I sound petulant? Damn it, I was supposed to be incensed and intimidating, not quivering and weak while my captor tended to my potential injuries. Almost getting hit by a car had really messed up my priorities.
“Well, I don’t want you to risk your pretty neck recklessly confronting me, but here we are,” he retorted, his voice still edged with anger even as his touch remained featherlight on my hypersensitive skin. “What the hell were you thinking, approaching a man like me? Don’t you understand how fucking dangerous that is?” His fingers dusted my scraped knees, and I hissed at the sting. “You’ll need to clean these up,” he said more gently. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
“You’re not coming home with me!” I declared hotly, immediately rebelling at the idea of having the beast in my private sanctuary. “You’re not coming anywhere near me!”
His eyes finally met mine, and that black brow over his left eye arched as he stared at me pointedly: I’m near you right now. He didn’t have to say the words aloud for my cheeks to heat with something between chagrin and indignation. His hands were still on my legs, his huge palms nearly engulfing my calves.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he swore, low and serious. The streetlights caught in his black eyes, flickering over them like white-hot flames. Even obscured by his tousled hair, his right eye flashed through the darkness, keen with the fervor of his promise. “But you need to stop being so reckless. I’m not the only monster out here, and your father is neck-deep in organized crime. They’ll know who you are.”
A half-mad laugh burst from my chest as the absurdity of his warning fizzed through me, bubbling alongside my lingering adrenaline. “Reckless? You think I’m reckless? You freaking kidnapped and interrogated the mayor’s daughter. You’re lucky you’re not behind bars right now.”
