Closing the door and watching through the glass for the red light to turn green, I turn and scream until my throat aches. Arms flailing, files falling, legs kicking, I attempt to fight off my attacker – but in reality, I’m an uncoordinated mess as I cower against the door.
“Jesus, calm down!” Kane’s hand slams down over my screeching lips to silence me.
He’s back.
Fuck Lance; Kane’s back in my most feared category. “Stop screaming,” he bites out between clenched teeth. Looking down the deserted street – the joys of living small-town; everyone’s already home in their recliners – he watches to make sure no SWAT teams are coming to my rescue. “Stop screaming. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Tears fill my eyes – tears of exhaustion, emotion, fright – as everything comes together in an overwhelming wave as I stare into the bottomless eyes that I’ve spent the better part of six months studying via a grainy image tucked into the file by my feet.
I turn my face away to dislodge his hand and to avoid meeting his eyes. “Please don’t touch me.”
He slowly inclines his chin. “Okay. Don’t scream.”
I nod and breathe through the pain in my ribs.Don’t cry. Don’t be a wimp.“Are you here to hurt me?”
“Why would I hurt you?”
I look up and study the six billion tattoos littering his skin; his arms, his chest, his neck. From his fingers, right up to his ears. Then I study the bruising. So much bruising that wasn’t there last night.
“I don’t know,” I whisper like awimp. “You’re standing on the street in the dark, waiting for me.” Realization hits me, and with renewed energy, my eyes dart around the street. “Where’s Jules?”
“The blonde boss?” When I nod, he steps back and allows me another half foot of space – only to take it up again with beefy arms that he crosses over his chest. “She left already. She’s got a sexy truck.”
Finally meeting his eyes, even with tears in my lashes, mine narrow. “You leave her alone, Bishop. Leave her be. Your business is with me.”
I humor him. I’m a joke to him.
With a smile, he brings a hand up to roll his bottom lip.Can black eyes sparkle? They can. I’ve seen it.“You’re an odd package, Jessica Ann Lenaghan. You’re brave, you’re naïve, you’re innocent. I don’t know which lane to put you in.”
I swallow at his easy familiarity and ignore the warmth sliding along my ribs. “How’d you know my name?”
“How do you know mine?” He volleys his question back so easily, so fast, I know he already had it on stand-by. My eyes flip to the file on the ground for half a beat. Unlike on my desk, his image remains inside.
“I know your face,” I admit shakily. “I know your name. I know the man from last night.”
“Lance…” He rolls the name over his tongue like it tastes of rotten lemons. “Fuckin’ asshole. Are you still in pain?”
Yes. I’m about three seconds from spewing on your boots.“No.”
“Did you sleep last night?”
Not a single wink.“Yes.”
My pulse skitters when he grins. “For an almost lawyer, you can’t lie for shit.”
“How do you know my job? How do you know my name? How do you know where my office is?”
“That’s a lot of questions, Blondie.” He steps forward, crowding me against the glass door. “Maybe we should set up a payment system. I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to spar with a lawyer.”
“A payment system?” My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“How about first question is free. The rest, you owe me a favor per answer.”
“I’m not in the business of owing guys like you favors.”
His grin notches higher.“Guys like me.I saved your life. You owe me a life in return. I’ll call in that favor when it suits me. Now pick the question you want answered for free. Choose wisely.”
I’m playing with fire. Simply talking to him, the man who could kill me at any moment – but hasn’t yet – is dangerous. What does he want from me? He knows my name. He knows my workplace. It’s not such a stretch that he knows my family. Does he know about my relationship with the chief?