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The seatbelt went taut around her, stealing her breath as Easton accelerated. More shots rang out, this time deployed from their backseat. They fish-tailed, tires grinding against asphalt until they gained traction. The scent of burned rubber seeped through the vents. She was thrust forward, the seatbelt pressed against her sternum with crushing force as the car tailing them slammed into their bumper.
“Dammit!” Gus roared from the back. She glanced up at Easton, who was laser focused on the road in front of them. He was silent as he maneuvered the vehicle with precision.
“The gatehouse,” she murmured and holstered her weapon at her hip, grappling for her cell phone instead.
“Call it in,” Easton said. The windows of the security checkpoint were shot out, and the guard who had greeted them less than an hour ago was sprawled out on the pavement with twin spots of blood seeping through his stark shirt. She’d already dialed nine-one-one and began relaying the information. The car was right on their ass, swerving around traffic to catch up as they hit the main road. Instead of staying on the line with the first responder as requested, Kinley disconnected and dropped the phone into the center console.
“Coming up on your left,” she shouted as the car built momentum. Her heart was beating double time, and the back of her neck was soaked in sweat. “Do you think Powers is behind this? He could’ve tipped someone off with a quick text.”
The passenger in the other vehicle raised his semi-automatic. Easton hit the gas, pushing the car to the limit. She lost sight of black ski masks and leather gloves but was lurched to the side, metal grinding on metal as the cars pushed together. “Possible. Or someone followed us.” Easton veered into the right shoulder lane, then cut the wheel, slamming hard against their aggressors. The car slowed, but it wasn’t enough.
“Which means they might know where you live.” Gus bit out.
No one had followed them out of Easton’s street. She was sure of it. If not the house though, where and how had they located them?
The windows on the driver’s side blew out, showering them with glass. She lifted her hands to protect her head, then the window behind Easton shattered with a deafening blast. Icy wind snaked into the car from the smashed glass, freeing fragile shards that clung to the frames.
A particle nicked her cheek, and warm drips of blood dotted her pants. “Bastards.” Anger flared in her chest. She hit the release on her seatbelt and turned, shifting to her knees.
“Kinley, no!” Easton’s voice was louder than she’d ever heard it, fury and fear melding into one force. “Sit down and buckle up. Goddamn, you’re gonna get killed.”
She ignored his outburst, gripping the cool metal stock of her firearm. With most of the windows removed, she had a clear shot. Aiming out the back, she pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. The driver slumped forward and skidded into the guardrail. Horns blared around them. She gave the assailants one final glance. The hood of their car had crushed like an empty soup can and both airbags had deployed.
She flipped the safety on her gun and eased down into her seat.
“Well done, Annie Oakley,” Gus praised.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Easton lost his cool. “That was reckless.” He punched the wheel with such force that she recoiled. “Don’t ever pull that shit again. Ever, Kinley.” The car fell into a stony silence, tension thickening in the space between them.
“If she hadn’t—” Gus began.
“Don’t say it,” Easton said with a growl.
“Get your head out of your ass.” Gus threw his hands up. “If she wasn’t your woman, you wouldn’t be on the verge of a shit fit.”
His woman?
She was supposed to be independent. A hardened homicide detective. Kinley belonged to no one. Not now, not ever. Damned if the insinuation didn’t feel good, though.
Easton glared at Gus through the review mirror, and the scowl that marred his face would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the harrowing high-speed chase.
The only words spoken for the remainder of the ride were when Gus called Sasha and Jules to check in before contacting the barracks to fill them in on the situation. Later, they’d have to give a statement to the FBI. They circled and backtracked for over an hour to make sure they didn’t have a tail, and they didn’t return to Easton’s house until after dark.
When the garage rumbled shut, the door to the house flew open. Gus had barely exited the car before Sasha leaped into his arms. “Oh, my God. What hurts the worst?” His fiancée’s eyes were wide as she surveyed his bloodied face. She rushed him inside, one hand on his back and the other on his shoulder. Gus might tower over Sasha in size, but what the woman lacked in stature, she sure made up for in guts.
“Stay there.” Easton’s hoarse voice was barely a whisper. He yanked the door open, dislodging some of the loose shards of glass from the window sill. Too close. She could’ve lost them both. Easton stalked around the hood, his face like granite. She only had time to unbuckle before he was reaching down and hauling her up. His eyes, nearly black now, held a hurricane of emotion rioting in the depths. She wasn’t able to decipher what he was feeling before his mouth collided with hers. His hands fisted in her hair, angling her head right where he wanted it. “Scared me,” he murmured against her lips. “Fucking hell, Kins.” He drove back into the kiss, and she met him stroke for stroke, devouring him, needing more. He’d been frightened for her. While she felt bad he’d been alarmed, his concern made her feel cared for. Their tongues clashed in a desperate dance. One of Easton’s hands released her hair and looped around her waist, holding her flush against him. The car’s cold metal frame was at her back as he pinned her in place. Liquid heat built in her belly and gathered at the junction of her hips. When he nipped her bottom lip, a guttural sound tore from her throat. His lips traveled down her jaw. Goosebumps broke out over her body as his hot breath tickled her skin. “Promise.” His desperate words were muffled by the kisses he pressed against the sensitive curve of her nape. “No more chances.” Wetness seeped from her core. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Easton’s hard length was pressed against her.
“Easton.” Mind-numbing lust had made her voice raw, vulnerable.
“Baby, swear it.” When his tongue circled her earlobe, she felt it everywhere. Overwhelming sensations lit up her skin from the top of her head to her toes. How could she possibly deny him anything?
“Promise,” she whispered and rocked her hips against him. His sharp gasp emboldened her. There were no lies she could tell herself anymore. Everything about Easton resonated in the unexplored, untouched places inside her heart. She was drawn to him in a way she never imagined possible. The fact that they were standing in his garage, that the others were right inside the house, failed to register. The only thing that mattered was stopping this hollow ache. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, exploring the taut muscles of his stomach and the lines of his hips. Her fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, and he sucked in a breath and stilled.
“Fuck. I lost myself there.” He lowered his forehead to hers, and for a moment, they just stood against the car, connected. The feeling wasn’t just sexual—it roamed past physical to the unexplored wild of her soul.
“I wouldn’t object if you want to lose yourself again.” She smiled, shocking herself by teasing him at such an intense moment. He made her feel lighter, happier.
There was a brisk knock on the door before it opened a crack. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but you need to get in here.” The seriousness of Gus’s tone was enough to get her body under control. The cold trickle of dread ate up all the lovely warmth Easton infused. Was her life always destined to be that way? A sick twist and tug between torture and bliss?
