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She never expected adrenaline would leave her horny. She’d heard all the stories about men fighting and fucking, but learning it firsthand was new to her.
From the corner of her eye, she sliced a look at him—particularly his crotch. Was he as hard as she was wet?
Clay was occupied keeping the vehicle on the road while making call after call, which he put on speakerphone. That he trusted her enough to let her listen in meantso muchto her. When had she ever been granted that type of trust without working her butt off for it?
First, he spoke to an FBI agent called Livingston. He provided the route the prisoner was taken on, as well as the location where the transport vehicle had been hijacked.
“How’d they do it?” Clay’s voice rang with command. If he knew that his tone raised goosebumps on Lark’s arms and made her nipples pebble, he might change how he sounded…and she didn’t want that.
“You haven’t seen the news?” Livingston asked.
Livingston’s gravelly voice filtered through the truck speakers. A man with a voice like that could definitely bring a woman to her knees, which had her wondering if his looks matched that sinner’s voice.
“Hell no. I’m guarding Lark.”
“Lark, the woman who picked up the bomb?”
“Yes. We’ve been hiding out in a backwoods safehouse. The only news I’ve had is from you and the Abel brothers.”
“I forgot WEST was sending backup.” Livingston paused a beat before laying out the details of what happened. “Two vans pursued the transport. One cut in front while the other hit the corner from the rear, sending the transport into a spin on the wet road. It skidded into some guardrails—took out about eight of the sons o’ bitches. Then it flipped onto its side and came to a stop. The driver reported that in seconds the transport was surrounded by armed men wearing masks. They forced the door open with—get this—explosives used by military personnel.”
“Then they took blackwillow73 and ran,” Clay concluded. His lips flattened into a line that pulled tight over his teeth. “Find us a safe place to go, Livingston. You owe me for setting me up in SentryknowingI didn’t even have a team. And you owe me for stranding me with that fucking bomb.”
“Sorry about that.” He sounded anything but sorry, which made Lark think men like Clay, Livingston, Julius and Jennings were all built of the stuff people like her only got a chance to read about.
Orwriteabout.
Her mental wheels were revolving so fast that verbs tripped over nouns in her mind. She took out her phone and started frantically typing it all into a note. Clay didn’t seem to notice what she was doing, and if he did, he didn’t stop her.
As he and Livingston discussed the best place for them to hide, Lark divided her attention between their call and her notes. What she wouldn’t give to write a piece on who was behind the bomb and how they’d managed to not only stop a bomb unit from reaching them but broke a prisoner out of a transport van.
When the vehicle stopped, she looked up from her phone to find that Clay had thrown the truck in park and was staring at her.
“What are you texting, Lark?”
She swiped her thumb over the screen to close the note app. “Just my grocery list.”
His eyes narrowed. “Hand me your phone.”
She tucked the device between her thighs. “No.”
“You were taking notes on my conversation with Livingston.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Lark.” He ground out her name with a warning in his voice.
“I’m not giving you my phone.”
“You’re going to hand it to me.”
She tipped her chin up a little. “You’re going to have to take it from me.”
His stare dropped to her thighs pinched tightly together with only a sliver of the yellow phone case visible between them.
Clay issued a noise that sounded like a growl and rumbled into a bad word. “You’re not making this easy on me, doll.”
Need spiked in her core. “I love it when you call me pet names.”
