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“I can’t leave you.”
He stopped.
Fuck, what was she really trying to say?
“I’ll come to you when it’s all over,” he said.
“What if something happens to you? I’m not going to hear the news later. I’m not going to be the one who can’t be there, like Andrew was when Mom died!”
He jerked at her words. Then crushed her against his chest, tucking her head beneath his jaw and holding her shivering body. “Christ, doll. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
Her voice came muffled but angry. “That’s right. Because I’m going with you.”
As if she could stop something bad just by being close to him.
He dropped his nose into her curls. “Please listen to me. You’re going with Desantis. Quaide’s got my six. Iwillcome back to you. Tonight. Within the hour, if you walk away from me now.”
“Nope.” She wrenched free of his arms, whirled and stalked back to the other guys.
Christ, Clay never expected this. A fight? Yes. A dead giveaway of how close she felt to him? Not a chance.
For a moment, he could hardly breathe from the idea of Lark having feelings for him.
He rushed after her and skidded to a stop at what Quaide was saying. “Oh yeah, she’s perfect.”
Clay threw a hand up. “Hold on. Perfect for what?”
“She says you’re sending her inside the warehouse to see if our mark’s in there.”
“Hell no. Jesus Christ. She’s untrained. Unarmed. Not going.” Before any of them could argue further, he wrapped his arms around Lark and ripped her off her feet. Carrying her the ten steps to the truck and tossing her in while she fought him only made him want to deliver that spanking he promised her hours before.
“Good—you’re going with me. Now neither of us can get hurt!” Her voice wobbled with a mix of anger and fear.
He forced her struggling body into the seat and pinned her shoulders against the back. “If you even think about getting out of this truck or opening that door, you will regret it.”
* * * * *
A loaded silence hung between Lark and Clay as they drove away from the warehouse.
Mission aborted, at least where she and Clay were concerned.
Livingston and Desantis would be going it alone. And Clay didn’t appear to be very happy about that.
She shot a glance at Clay’s stony profile. His expression gave nothing away—he could be mentally concocting his shopping list.
Or he was upset by her interference.
“I suppose you’re upset with me,” she breezed out.
He shot her the side-eye. “I’m not happy with you.”
“Explain why.”
“You’re saying you have no idea what you did back there?” He spoke in clipped tones. “Your selfish behavior left me no choice but to walk away. And you knew that would happen, didn’t you? You manipulated me into not helping with the mission!”
Her stomach pitched. “You’re right. I should have done things differently.”
Like not get involved at all.
