Seth’s eyes drift, turning wide and horrified as he stares down at a dark red patch spreading across the front of Lacey’s dress. One minute he was kissing her, holding her in his arms like the best kind of dream, thinking of the quickest way to get her home and take her to bed, to show her what he’s been feeling and then some, and now ...
Now, she’s hot enough to fucking cook on.
“Oh, Jesus,” he breathes.
Lacey, her face ghastly pale but her cheeks flushed with color, looks right at him, says, “I don’t feel good,” and then pitches forward.
Seth surges for her and catches her in his arms like a lover, like a slow dip. She lies listlessly, staring up at him. Her fierce green eyes fading, losing focus.
A little laugh bubbles out of Lacey. “I like you, Seth.”
“I like you too.” His voice has gone dry and desperate. “In fact, I like you so much, we’re goin’ to the hospital.”
She laughs, and it’s the no-fight, the way her hair sticks to her face, the way her body’s burning up in his arms that scares him shitless. Fear settles like a lead weight in his gut.
“Unbelievable,” a clipped voice snarls.
With effort, Lacey turns her face toward the source of the voice. Seth follows suit.
A stocky man stands in the doorway, glaring in suspicion at Lacey and Seth like he’s caught them in an illicit lover’s embrace.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’re supposed to be picking up new contacts, engaging with Colin, and instead you’re in here with the help.” The man snorts. “I expected more from you, Sutton.”
Weakly, Lacey pushes herself up. Seth wraps an arm around her waist, steadying her against him. “Prentiss, this is Seth ... he’s—”
“Getting her out of here,” Seth finishes impatiently.
Prentiss’s eyes fly open, his face ruddy from anger. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to,” Lacey whispers, her hand clutching hard at Seth’s forearm. “I’m sick, Prentiss. I—”
“Absolutely not.” He blocks the exit, his body trembling in rage. “Sutton, this is the most important night of the year. I pay you well. Get back out there. Now.”
Fuck that.
Seth can’t hold his tongue anymore. Still curling Lacey against him, he steps toward her boss. “Not gonna happen,” he growls, authority in his tone. Already he wants to hit the guy. “Lacey’s sick. She ain’t got time for your bullshit.”
“Prentiss, I can’t—” Lacey’s glassy eyes flutter and she goes limp, collapsing against Seth.
Gently, Seth scoops her up in his arms, a fresh wave of panic hitting him when she gasps and clutches at her stomach.
Prentiss’s eyes widen, as if the idiot’s finally realizing the gravity of the situation.
Lacey groans, her eyes fluttering closed. Her head lolls between Seth’s shoulder and neck, and he has to bite back a curse. It feels like he’s holding the molten core of planet Earth in his arms.
“All right, Lace,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hot brow. “We’re gettin’ out of here.”
And then he looks at Prentiss. The idiot stands in the doorway, blocking the exit. Which is a bad mistake. The worst fucking mistake.
Rage rolls through Seth. Red and blinding.
He could kill the guy. But Lacey, lying still and limp in his arms, is the only thing stopping Seth from going fucking feral and launching the prick off the staircase.
“Move,” Seth commands, his jaw flexing. His voice deadly. “Now.”
Prentiss gulps and steps aside.
Then Seth’s moving, rushing out the door, the mad pump of his heart like a ticking time bomb, a frantic reminder of everything he can lose.