by Black, Regan
"Selena!"
Adam saw it play out all-too-clearly, in micro-second increments before it actually happened.
The assassin pulled a one-eighty to slam Selena into the unyielding side of the dumpster.
Ribs would crack and the breath would be knocked clear of her lungs. Pinned and helpless, she'd panic which would only make it harder for her to breathe. Galloway would relieve her of the watch and have the Cleaner dispose of them, walking away once more with everything.
Adam wasn't about to settle for that bleak ending to his quest for payback. Not after waiting all these years. Not after sacrificing his identity as well as his normal vision.
He didn't want to think about the impact for Selena, an innocent bystander caught in the middle of a bigger game, she'd be nothing more than another violent statistic.
Adam saw one chance to change her fate. As the Cleaner started his turn, Adam caught him hard in the groin with a knee.
The Cleaner fell forward, instinctively releasing his hold on Selena's arms to protect himself.
"Come on," Adam barked at Selena, tugging her free as the Cleaner crumpled. With another kick, he propelled the assassin into Galloway.
Holding tight to Selena's hand, he raced with her toward the safety of the subway, trying to make the most of their slim headstart.
"We'll be trapped down there," she said, skidding to a stop at the top of the stairs. "There isn't another train for fifteen minutes."
Shit. He glanced around, but there weren't any cabs in the area either. There was no real cover out here. Racing forward, he prayed for a miracle, but he knew they were screwed.
A chunk of brick turned bright orange with the heat of a bullet before it crumbled to dust near Adam's elbow, making his point. He glanced over his shoulder as two thermal images, Galloway and the Cleaner, cleared the alley.
"He's an idiot firing a gun out here," he said to Selena. There were cameras, sound detectors, all kinds of crap that made it a dumb idea. He knew Galloway was determined to get his hands on the nano technology, but he hadn't anticipated this kind of desperation. He should have.
Hell, maybe he would have if he'd known the man had resorted to kidnapping.
"This way," Selena said, pulling them right out into the open.
He blocked her body with his as they raced across the street. By some miracle the next bullet went astray as well, but the owner of the BMW wouldn't be happy with the blown out windshield. Maybe the blows he'd landed managed to throw off the Cleaner's aim.
They rounded the next corner, reaching the relative safety of the building. "We'll be dead if we stay out here much longer."
"Trust me," she said turning to look him up and down. "You know, you could use some color. Black is too harsh for you."
Was she serious? "This isn't the time for a fashion lecture," he muttered, risking a glance around the corner. He couldn't see any sign of them with either his normal or enhanced vision. "Where'd they go? They aren't on the street." Maybe Galloway called off his assassin in favor of a better attack later. He didn't voice the opinion, afraid it would jinx the unexpected good luck.
* * *
"Yay for us," Selena said, appreciating the extra moment to just enjoy the view of the man who'd saved her, repeatedly. He wasn't as tall as her cousins, but she liked that. It put his lips within easier reach. Which was an observation that should wait for a more appropriate time.
But he'd started it with that kiss. Perfunctory, functional, and with quite a bit of promise underneath. She wanted better next time.
As much as she enjoyed watching him, she knew they couldn't stay on the street much longer.
Sirens approached and she exchanged a look with Adam.
"Tell me you know someplace we can lay low."
With a nod, she straightened his jacket and mussed his hair, catching his hand when he tried to smooth it back.
"What? You can't return the favor?"
"Favor?" He scowled at her.
"Trust," she clarified, turning her back to him. "Is my jacket clean?"
His hands brushed roughly across the leather. "Yes. Although why you care –"
"See that big line of people?" She tapped her foot against the sidewalk. "Can't you feel the heavy bass?"
"You want to go clubbing?"
"Did my mascara run?" She almost wished she hadn't asked as his eyes moved over her face, followed by his thumb.
"Just a smudge," he said smoothing whatever it was from her cheek.
She swallowed against her reaction, her urge to lean in and forget the danger. With her hand in his, she urged them toward the queue. "'Want' is the wrong word. Need is more appropriate in this situation. We can hide more easily in the crowd."
As the noise spilling out of the club increased, she hoped maybe it would deter the questions she assumed he had for her. Unfortunately, it would make it harder to ask the questions she had for him as well.
"Galloway doesn't know about my connection here," she said.
"Don't count on that," he replied darkly.
She decided she didn't want him to elaborate on that comment. "You have a better idea?"
He shook his head. Satisfied he wouldn't interfere, she approached the door, applying every lesson her female cousins had ever shared on charming men.
"Selena Vaccaro!" The booming voice of the bouncer at the door had all heads turning her way. It was an inside joke that he treated her like a celebrity they thought they should know. She usually managed to play along, but tonight she hammed it up, needing the extra attention, hoping it would have Galloway thinking twice about attacking her here.
"Tell me Brevo is at the bar tonight."
"Like always." The bouncer rolled his eyes. "Two?"
"Please," she answered with another wide smile.
"I hope your friend here can dance," the bouncer said in a stage whisper as he let them pass, "because he sure can't dress."
Selena tossed him a wink over her shoulder. "That's why he's with me."
The deep laughter followed them just inside the doorway, until the pulsing bass and strobing lights blotted out any semblance of reality.
For her, this was almost as calming as the hot chocolate and cookies. The crowd felt like a safety net. Galloway couldn't open fire or attack them here without causing a scene and drawing way too much negative attention.
Apparently it wasn't the same for Adam. He'd gone rigid beside her, his footsteps slowed and the muscles of his arm had turned to stone.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he bit out.
"You don't look it."
"I'm fine," he repeated. He rubbed at his eyes. "You were right. This is a good place to hide."
She recognized the sound of pain when she heard it. "We won't stay long," she promised. "Brevo will let us crash at his place tonight."
"Great. Boyfriend?"
She wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly, so she ignored the question. It wasn't his business anyway, no matter what they'd recently survived.
They wound their way through the bodies gyrating on the crowded dance floor to the elaborate bar at the far side of the cavernous room. While she instinctively moved with the music, Adam remained stiff and awkward at her side.
Something was seriously wrong with him and her intuition had her questioning the wisdom of sticking with him. He'd managed to be everything people expected to see. He'd been the friendly food vendor, a Good Samaritan at the ambulance, a thoughtful new friend in the coffee shop, and a self-defense expert in the alley. He might have all the right moves, but she sensed the tough guy in the alley was the real Adam.
Watching him now, she wondered if the awkward discomfort was another act. She'd seen him fight with the graceful movements comparable to a dancer, yet here, he couldn't seem to adapt to the club atmosphere.
She thought about the gunfire and worried one of the bullets had found a target after all.
As they neared the bar, more than one waitress greeted her with a
smile and a lingering admiration for Adam. The hot, inviting looks irritated her. A wholly irrational reaction as she didn't have any claim on him, but she couldn't stifle the feeling. Adam either didn't notice the blatant invitations or didn't care.
Reaching the service end of the bar where Brevo filled orders for waitresses as well as customers, Selena caught his attention. Her cousin beamed a welcome, and motioned for a customer to step aside and give her the bar stool. Instead she pushed Adam down onto the open seat.
Brevo frowned. "What don't I know?"
"My purse was stolen," she said, not wanting to get into the rest of what he didn't know. He'd lose it if she told him about Renata. A furious Brevo wouldn't help the situation with Galloway. It would only make things worse.
Of course, he'd be pissed at her later, but she'd rather have Renata alive and well as a balm to his indignation.
"Did this guy take it?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. He helped me out."
"Doesn't look like much."
"Be nice or shut up," she scolded. She slid a look at Adam. He looked like a whole lot to her. "Can we crash at your place tonight?"
Her cousin scowled at her as he filled orders. When he skewered olives for a martini, he slid it her way. "On the house. You don't just want your spare key?"
She shook her head. It was impossible to hear him sigh over the noise of the club, but she recognized the way he planted his hands on his hips. It was just like Uncle Torry.
"How close is his place?" Adam picked up the martini she hadn't touched and took a sip. He'd covered his eyes with dark sunglasses and seemed to be surveying the crowd. "Does he have a car?"
"No need. He lives just upstairs."
Adam dipped his chin. "Fantastic."
Chapter Eight
"How do you know the bartender?" Adam asked as she flipped the deadbolt behind them. He recalled a vague reference to a club owner in her file, but he couldn't recall the details right now. The man clearly cared for her and he'd posted a guard at the bottom of the stairs, assuring Adam the security cameras were working and wired into an office monitored twenty-four-seven.
When the lights came on, he understood all of the precautions. He let out a low whistle. "Nice place."
"He has a good decorator," she agreed. "He's my cousin."
"Ah. Makes more sense now."
"What makes more sense?"
Adam ignored her in favor of the more pertinent details. "Show me what you took from the apartment." He extended his open palm.
"Look, I don't know anything about you or why you're involved but –"
"Safer for us both that way." He admired her grit, but he needed more information before he gave up anything about his prior association with Galloway. "Just give me the watch."
"You caught that, huh?"
He just arched an eyebrow and waited. With a quiet huff, she pulled the Rolex out of her pocket and dropped it into his hand. "Renata said it was a gift from her boss," Selena explained. "She travels with the Italian diplomatic corps."
Adam took that in, put it with the file Messenger provided and his knowledge of Galloway through the years. "When did he tell you he took your cousin?"
"He threatened my assistant with a nasty photograph first thing this morning," she said. "Later at the deli, he showed me a shot of Renata tied to a chair."
"That's it?"
"He threatened my friends and family," she said, incredulous. "Isn't that enough?
Adam stared at her until the devotion and compassion in her eyes became unbearable. "I wouldn't know," he said, looking away. The closest thing he had to family was Messenger, and that was too pathetic to mention.
"Renata met Galloway a couple of months ago. It was all good for a while, then he got weird when she suddenly returned to Italy to work."
Adam concentrated on the watch and found a micro-SD card imbedded in the first link of the bracelet. Hard to believe so much danger was on this small card, but it was what Galloway and Messenger were fighting over. Replacing the card, he slid the watch into the hidden pocket of his jacket for safekeeping. "How come this didn't end up in your purse? Deliberately double-crossing Galloway doesn't end well."
"I'm more than aware he's dangerous." She walked toward the tall counter that separated the front room from the kitchen, pulling the band from her hair. "I cooperated to help Renata. It was supposed to be a trade, but he wasn't waiting with her at the showroom when we got there."
His blood heated as she finger-combed the pale waves over her shoulders. "What color is your hair?"
"Is that supposed to be a joke?"
"No." He desperately wanted the answer. Almost more than he wanted his revenge on Galloway.
She turned, cocking that ripe curve of her hip.
Forget the hair, he thought, determined to get back on track. Galloway wouldn't give up until he had what he needed. "Why make it look like a robbery?"
She tossed that glorious, pale mane over her shoulder and glared at him. "I didn't mean to. I went up there through the front door, completely legit."
"To water the plants."
She shrugged at the lie. "That is my job when she travels. The power was out and I knew the place well enough I didn't think it would matter. But I didn't feel anything like a Rolex in her jewelry box. Thinking it was a nervous mistake, I dumped all of her watches into my purse and went for the emergency flashlight to be sure I had the one Galloway wanted."
"But someone else snatched the purse."
"It's like you were there," she said, eyes wide with a false innocence. Giving him her back, she opened the refrigerator. "Want anything?"
She wasn't offering what he really wanted – her body hot and willing under his. Adam closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face. He was like a moth to flame with this woman. Adrenaline didn't explain it. No, the attraction probably stemmed from watching her for the past week. Except he'd logged enough field experience to recognize the justification as false. Something about this woman mesmerized him as no one had done before.
"Selena."
She turned around, a pitcher of water in her hand. He saw her mouth move, but he didn't hear the words. Telling himself he was a fool, he stalked over and pushed his hands through her hair. It was heavy as velvet, soft and luxurious as silk as it slipped between his fingers. He brought it forward over her shoulders and she pulled a face.
"I smell terrible."
Not to him. This close, he could still pinpoint the floral scents of her perfume. "What color?"
"What's wrong with your vision?" She studied him closely. Too closely. "Something made you struggle when we were in the club."
He shrugged that off as irrelevant. "I see what I need to see." He was looking at her hair, the curve of her ear, high cheekbones models would envy, the sweet fullness of her lips. Oh, he was looking at her, hungry for her. Too damned hungry to mask his need. He let it show, let her make the next move.
"I see you." He'd been watching her, learning the little nuances of her, of her personality long before they'd met tonight. "You are independent and talented. Brave and loyal."
"Blond." Her tongue slid across her lips. "It's a golden blond."
He closed his eyes, filling his hands with her tresses, struggling to remember what that looked like. "Like honey?"
"I guess so," she whispered. "Yes," she said with more confidence when he opened his eyes and met her gaze. "You weren't always colorblind."
"No."
Her fingers fluttered against his cheek, then up to push the hair back from his face. He wanted to lean in to the touch.
"What happened?"
"Galloway." It was the simplest explanation. "He pinned an intel breach on me. It was prison or –" He wouldn't jeopardize her by sharing too much of the UI program. "Or a secret research kind of thing."
"Are you happy with the choice you made?" She stroked a fingertip across his jaw.
What an odd question. He couldn't recall a time when anyone cared
about his happiness. Not even him.
"Usually, yes."
Her lips tilted into a soft half-smile. "Then I won't feel sorry for you. That choice led you to be in the right place to help me when I needed it."
If sweeter words had been spoken, he'd never been on the receiving end of them. But the kiss that followed was sweeter still. She pressed her body to his, winding her arms around his neck. He caught her at the waist and pulled her closer.
He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper. As his tongue dueled with hers, he gripped her ass and lifted her off her feet.
She tossed her head back on a surprised giggle and wrapped her legs around his hips. Happy? Oh, yeah. This qualified. More than.
He carried her away from the kitchen and had to use the wall for support when her busy mouth landed on a sensitive spot on his neck. Filling his hands with her breasts, he lost himself in the process of peeling her shirt over her head so he could suckle her hard nipples through the Christmas trees decorating the sheer fabric of her bra.
"You're a work of art," he murmured against her skin.
"Bed," she demanded, her breathing ragged as she locked her ankles and rocked her hips against his hard cock.
Personally, he didn't see anything wrong with the wall, but arguing would be rude. She made it worth the effort when he laid her back on the soft mattress.
She held him close with drugging kisses, her hands roaming over his body. Then she wriggled away. Before he could protest, she came up on her knees beside him.
His eyes tracked every move as she caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples with the damp fabric he'd just had in his mouth, down her midriff. Then she popped the button of her jeans, revealing more of that holiday patterned lingerie.
He groaned.
She smiled, halting the striptease to run her hands under his shirt. "You're overdressed," she said with a hot smile full of sexy promises.
"You're the boss." He sat up so she could pull away his jacket and shirt.
"Good attitude."
He let her have her way, touching and exploring his body as she stripped away the rest of his clothing. She stood up long enough to remove her own jeans and slide out of her lingerie. He promised himself next time he would take care of those details. When her mouth followed the path of her hands, the searing kisses contrasting with the cool silk of her hair, he thought he might come right there when she licked his cock from root to tip.
