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Carter stepped in close, causing me to lose my breath as he took my wrist, lifted my arm and pressed the towel to his chest. Using my arm like a puppet master, he had me dry him then up to his shoulder and across to his neck.
All the while, his eyes kept me captive, searching for something in my gaze that I wasn’t sure I was capable of anymore.
Forcing myself to break eye-contact, I didn’t take my hand away from him. The truth was I craved moments like this—moments of heated intimacy that sent my heart racing.
Steeling my spine, I forced my chin up and stepped closer, lifting my lips to show him what I wanted even if I was too shy to say it.
Even if I was too weak to put into words that I wanted to feel his lips on mine, to taste his tongue, to feel his body against me—I hoped everything I was doing told him—loudly—what I yearned for.
Something moved behind in the shadows.
While I didn’t know what it was, that tugged me from the beautiful moment we’d been having, forcing me to wrap my free hand around his wet waist, to pull him into my chest and twisted my body.
A silencer wasn’t really silent.
A trained ear could hear it—a distinctthuckthat may blend in with the chaos of the world aging.
A bullet tore into the wall as I eased my body between the danger and Carter, even as I tugged my arm from him and reached into the back of my pants for my gun.
When it roared, there was nothing to stop the sound but the sickening, sucking sound of a bullet tearing through flesh.
Someone grunted in pain.
I fired again—this time aiming a little lower.
My second bullet connected, and the person fell as I rushed down the steps. A bright light turned on, but I didn’t look back to see who or what had happened.
Carter called after me, but I didn’t slow down until I was standing over the man, I kicked the gun away and aimed at his head.
“You’re trespassing.” I told him.
He groaned.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “Who sent you?”
“I’d rather die.” He managed.
If this idiot knew how pissed off I was at him in this moment—how absolutely angry I was—he wouldn’t have said that.
He’d interrupted my moment with Carter—a moment that I was perfectly certain would have led to those full lips conquering every part of me.
I didn’t realized how desperately I’d wanted him to kiss me until I was standing over this man, almost on the brink of death and I couldn’t find enough strength or heart to care.
“Stay in the house!” Carter barked, pulling me back to reality.
I lifted a foot and dropped it on one of the man’s open wounds that was in his left thigh.
He screamed in agony.
“Who is he?” Carter asked from my side.
“He won’t tell me.” I replied, wiggling my foot around in the wound. “He said he’d rather die. How about now, asshole? Still feel like dying for this cause? Still want to die on this hill?”
“Wasp.” Carter’s voice was soft over my call-sign.
“He took a shot at me.” I lied about the reason for my anger. “I don’t like being shot at.”
“I think he took a shot at me.” Carter explained.
