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But I’d scream or run long before then. I just had to wait for the perfect moment.
I glanced at the door again, my gaze lingering on the possible escape route, my heart pounding with the urge to flee.
“If you run,” he warned, his voice a smoky whisper that made my throat run dry, “I’ll catch you.”
The promise in his words held a seductive edge that made my breath catch, and his posture seemed to darken with anticipation, as if he were intrigued by the prospect of the chase, of capturing me in his arms.
For a moment, neither of us moved, and time seemed to stand still as we silently stared at each other.
“Why are you here?” I demanded.
“To warn you,” the Vigilante said. “I had a chat with one of Franco’s men last night. It seems he’s hired some people to find you. And kill you.”
Oh God.
“You can’t be out in the open like this, Ms. Payne. It’s dangerous.”
He took a step forward, his movements deliberate and predatory, perhaps trying to intimidate me.
I hated that it was working. That I remembered the wound on Dominic’s neck, the blood pouring from that man’s body in the prison parking lot after the Vigilante had effortlessly killed him.
And now here I was. Alone with him.
When he advanced toward me, each of his steps echoing in the small space, I retreated. His towering frame was a blend of power and intimidation—an unwelcome reminder of the danger I was in.
Based on the slight angle to his head, he assessed me up and down, amusement flickering on his lips as if enjoying the nervousness he was causing.
“Are you afraid of me?” he growled in that grainy voice of his that was a blend of allure and danger.
No matter what he claimed his intentions were for trapping me like this, I was a hostage to a confessed killer. Any man capable of doing what the Vigilante did had to be psychologically unstable. And dangerously unpredictable.
“The whole city is afraid of you.” I continued to step backward.
He matched my steps, moving forward with the grace and precision of a predator closing in on its prey.
I glanced at the door, wondering what the odds were of me getting out of here, or at least alerting my guard before it was too late.
His mesh-covered gaze appeared to follow mine, a silent promise of a game of cat and mouse playing out in the curl of his lips—like an acknowledgment of the unspoken challenge.
“I’ve killed fifty-three men.”
I about choked on my tongue.Fifty-three?The news media had the body count way low.
My back hit the wall, and I suppressed a gasp. He stepped forward again, his body perilously close to mine, and rested a palm against the wall, near the side of my face. The heat of his hand seemed to radiate toward my skin.
“But I’ve never savored killing a man as much as I’ll savor draining the blood from the person who ordered your death.” His low, sensual voice danced along my nerves like a dangerous caress, stirring a flurry of emotions I couldn’t fully comprehend.
I swallowed, blood surging through my veins with the rush of adrenaline. His face was closer to mine than I wanted, his hand capable of reaching up and strangling me in an instant if I made the wrong move.
And yet…that comment. It activated a sixth sense begging to be heard, telling me I wasn’t in any danger. That he was, in fact, here to protect me.
“The woman in the stall,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “If she’d resisted you. If you were backed into a corner, would you kill an innocent person if it was your only way out?”
He didn’t answer, his silence thickening the air with a tension that seemed to wrap around him like a fog.
“I’ve never used my skills to keep someone alive before,” he mused, his voice a dark and tantalizing whisper. “This is…new territory for me.”
“I don’t need your protection,” I said, defiance momentarily drowning out my alarm. “In case you didn’t notice, I have security now.”
