Chapter Ten
Katriona
Acry slips from my lips and Drake’s mouth is there to swallow every last gasp and I’m so ready for them to give me more.
I’m so consumed with the pleasure rolling through me I don’t hear the man at the door until Sylan curses under his breath. He pulls away, passing me to the other men.
A jacket is thrown around me and both Grey and Drake turn to slip me behind them.
A wall of muscle blocks me from view and I’m more than a little crushed by the sudden change. I slip my hands up their backs. Muscles ripple. The last time I stood this close to them in the position we were taking heavy fire. Bullets whizzed by our heads and Grey took one for me.
I clutch the material of their shirts and lean into their strength. This is not that, I remind myself. We’re okay, safe. No guns, no bullets. No one died that I care about.
What am I doing? Living a fantasy, stupid, answers my inner critic, but then what?
I know they are not looking for a one-nighter. But what am I looking for? Dealing with these three is going to take a backbone made of titanium. Am I up for that?
“Mr. Ward. There’s a situation with one of the guests.”
My brows rise at the infliction on the word guests.
From where I’m standing, I just barely see the dark looks passing over Sylan and Drake’s expressions. Both men move away but Grey is the one who growls with what sounds like frustration.
“Wait here. This won’t take long. When we get back, we’ll discuss the terms of our agreement.”
I watch all three prowl across the spacious living room and exit out of a door I hadn’t seen before.
I nod to their retreating backs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right here.” It’s probably not a good idea to put a voice to my other thoughts so I clamp my mouth shut. Thoughts like, “sure, I’ll stay here while you are probably torturing a guest in a back room or worse, the kitchen.”
And the same reason why I’m not sticking around to see if all the wooing is pretend before they put a bullet through my brain.
That pesky voice of reason pops up again, telling me Drake was speaking the truth. If they wanted me dead, I would be. Simple as that. I just don’t like the idea of my freedom not being my own.
Gorgeous or not, no man owns me and there is no need for any agreement. What had I been thinking letting them work me up so hard? So fast? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I poke my head out the door, barely believing the empty corridor I find on the other side. Several doors line either side but only one has the lights on. It pours from a slit where I also hear muffled voices coming from.
I back up and close the door behind me. This is too perfect. A little voice of doubt screams with questions like why would they leave me here all alone? With an unlocked door? No guard?
Honestly, did I care why? I throw a side-eye at the coat Sylan had given me but I leave it behind. It will only slow me down. I’ll take my chances. But I do grab my purse, with the little cash I made tonight and stab at the button for the lobby. I have my uniform zipped up and my girls back where they belong before the doors slide open. A ding of the elevator reverberates through the office and I flinch only long enough to hope no one hears it.
Inside, I stab at the button for the lobby and as soon as the little digital number at the top turns over to LB I pound marble so hard I feel every minute I dished out plates of greasy food back at Sally’s.
I need better footwear, but right now they were the only thing keeping the soles of my feet from turning bloody and leaving them a trail to follow.
I dash past the lobby doorman and push my way through the rotating door. “Freaking fancy, slow-moving revolving doors of death,” I breathe out with fanatic, harsh breathes.
I shove at the door, paying no mind to the doorman’s shocked face when I bust out the other side in a dead run.
My feet barely holding me up, I don’t stop until I’m sitting in a safe room, with a safe door, between me and the unsafe people in this city.
After making a mad run for it out of Sylan’s office, I didn’t know where to go at first. Buy that ticket to New York? They’d only pick me up the second the bus arrives at its station. Vegas? Same thing.
Back to Sally’s place? My old apartment. Not hardly. Maybe I could just hop from bus to bus, no destination in mind.
Since that involves more money than I have, the police station would have to do.
“I hear you have a pretty exciting story to tell us, Ms.?”