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She gave a slow nod as she slowly glanced my way. “I’m sorry.”
The words were a fist to my chest. I quickly closed the distance and brushed my thumb across her chin before tilting her gaze to mine. “You have not a goddamn thing to be sorry about. None of it. This rests entirely with me.”
Her brow creased before she shook her head. “London, no—”
But I didn’t need to hear her make excuses for me. “How about we join the others downstairs? We can plan this interception and I can show you how to move if you’re grabbed like that again.”
“Sounds like she moved just right, shooting the goddamn bastard. It was lucky I wasn’t there. I would’ve cleared that boardroom table in a second.”
He would’ve, too…but then so had my bullet, but with a lot less bloodshed.
“Coffee?” I asked as the sharp scent filled the air.
But Vivienne turned gray, shook her head, and covered her nose. “No. Jesus, no. Just water.”
I scowled, then gave a nod.
“Let’s go,” Carven muttered, scanning the house. “I want to search every inch of this goddamn place.”
I let him lead her away, watching them disappear before I headed for the others in the kitchen. Guild was waiting for me with a careful gaze. I searched, finding an empty cup placed on the counter. “What’s that look for?”
He opened his mouth, about to say something, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he muttered before he turned and headed after the others.
What the fuck was going on?
I followed, making my way down a set of steel stairs to the rooms underneath. This wasn’t just a bunker. It was an entire goddamn facility.
Harper whistled in astonishment, staring around at the same hi-tech set up we’d found in that deserted house hunting for King. This moment had been years in the making. I’d dreamed about this moment, hungered for this moment. I’d killed for this moment.
Yet as I stepped down the last stair, followed Vivienne across the massive room that spanned the entire house, and headed for the furthest point away from everyone, I couldn’t…give…two…fucks.
“Pet,” I called, following her. I surged forward and grabbed her arm. “Hey.”
She didn’t fight me. That was good…that was real good.
I was aware of the others as they gawked and asked Helene a million different questions. All except for Carven, who stood there watching us. I glanced over my shoulder, finding his stare, then turned back to her. I needed to change tactics, needed to find a way for her to talk to me.
“The balls,” I muttered.
“What?” she asked, confused.
I stepped around her to stand at her back. I was careful, so damn careful not to trigger her as I brushed my finger along her jaw and whispered against her ear. “Easy now.”
My forearm went across her throat, tight enough to drive her back against me while I grabbed her other hand. “In this position, he is as vulnerable as you are.”
She stiffened.
“If you don’t have your gun, you still have your hands.” I gently tugged her arm, urging her to reach behind, then flattened her hand over the bulge in my pants.
“I’m not giving you a hand job,” she seethed.
The thought of that set my nerves on fire. Still, I murmured, “As enticing as that sounds, pet, I’m showing you how with one hard twist, you can drop the bastard behind you to his knees.”
She clenched, gripping tightly enough to make me catch my breath. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I grunted. “Just like that.”
I tightened my hold, my senses flaring out behind me, making sure we weren’t the object of their focus as I stroked my hand down and cupped her breast. “You being pissed off at me only makes me want to fuck you even more.”
