Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 15

LORENZO

Her eyes found mine.

Disbelief first.

Then anger.

Then that spark I’d already learned to recognise.

Defiance.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her chin rose despite the fact that her teeth were visibly chattering.

“I was hoping you’d eventually get bored.”

I looked at her.

Bored?

Not remotely.

“I don’t get bored when I’m hunting something I want.”

The words left my mouth before I considered them.

Something changed in her expression.

Small.

But there.

And there it was again.

That reaction between us neither of us had any business having.

I walked toward her.

“Come here, Bonnie.”

She backed toward the water.

Of course she did.

“Don’t.”

She smiled.

“No, thank you.”

I stared at her.

This impossible f*****g woman had just spent nearly forty minutes running from armed men, hidden underwater long enough to make me contemplate sending divers into the marina, crawled out half frozen…

And she was still arguing.

My hands went to my jacket.

Her smile vanished.

There.

Finally.

A sensible reaction.

I shrugged it off.

Her eyes narrowed.

I folded the jacket over the car.

Then began undoing my cuffs.

“No.”

I looked at her.

She took another step backward.

“Lorenzo.”

I rolled the first sleeve over my forearm.

“You stay right there.”

The second.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

She looked toward the water.

Then back at me.

I knew exactly what she was considering.

And for the first time that night, I didn’t have the slightest interest in letting her run.

Not because she was a witness.

That problem had become complicated somewhere between my office and the marina.

I stepped onto the dock.

Bonnie retreated.

I followed.

She was still shivering.

She was also still looking at me as though hypothermia was a minor inconvenience compared to the satisfaction she might get from pushing me into the water.

“Don’t come any closer.”

I kept walking.

“Did the part where I jumped into the f*****g ocean not make my feelings clear?”

“Marina.”

She stared at me.

“What?”

“You jumped into a marina.”

For half a second, there was nothing.

Then outrage flashed across her face.

“That’s what you’re correcting?”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

“You’re very particular when you’re angry.”

“I’m about to become very particular about where I kick you.”

That stopped me.

Not because of the threat.

I believed her entirely capable of attempting it.

My eyes dropped to her feet.

Bare.

Dirty.

Bleeding.

Then rose.

Slowly.

I should not have done that.

Her skirt had torn during the chase. The slit now climbed high along one thigh, exposing pale skin streaked with water and mud. The ivory blouse I remembered from my office no longer resembled much of a blouse at all. Wet silk clung to her body, translucent beneath the lights from the service lane.

Her arms crossed immediately over her chest.

Too late.

I had already seen her.

And my body had already noticed.

“Finished?”

“No.”

The word left my mouth before discretion could intervene.

Her lips parted.

There.

That expression.

Half fury.

Half disbelief.

I liked putting it there.

Far too much.

“Enjoy the view while you can.”

“I am.”

Her eyes flashed.

Then they moved.

Down my arms.

Only briefly.

But I saw it.

Bonnie seemed to forget that I had spent years watching people lie to me.

A glance was enough.

The tightening of a mouth was enough.

A change in breathing was enough.

And Bonnie Powell was nowhere near as indifferent to me as she wanted me to believe.

That knowledge settled somewhere primitive.

Possessive.

Mine.

The thought came so naturally that I almost missed how absurd it was.

She was not mine.

She was a witness I had met less than two hours ago.

A complication.

A liability.

A woman who should have been handled according to rules I had spent years enforcing without hesitation.

Mine had no place among those facts.

Yet when she looked toward the service lane and told me to go away, something inside me rejected the idea before she finished speaking.

“No.”

“I escaped.”

“You were found.”

“By you.”

“Yes.”

“Your men didn’t find me.”

“No.”

Her chin lifted.

“So technically, I won.”

I nearly laughed.

She genuinely believed that.

Or wanted me to believe she did.

“That isn’t how winning works.”

“You said if I got away from your men, I was free.”

“I said if you got away, you were free.”

“No. You specifically said your men.”

I went still.

Fuck.

I had.

The triumph that appeared in her eyes was immediate.

“You did.”

I said nothing.

“You remember.”

“I remember everything I say.”

“Good. Then we’re done here.”

She turned away from me.

Actually turned her back on me.

And began walking.

I stared after her.

There were perhaps twelve feet of dock remaining.

I let her have three.

“Bonnie.”

She continued.

“Bonnie.”

“No.”

“Come here.”

“I think we’ve established how I feel about that phrase.”

She reached the end.

Stopped.

Looked down.

Water.

Then back at me.

For one second, neither of us moved.

“If you’re considering jumping again, I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because this time I’m coming after you.”

Something changed in her eyes.

Good.

She understood me.

Then the stubborn little creature lifted her chin.

“Maybe I’m a better swimmer.”

“Maybe.”

I stepped closer.

She stepped onto the edge.

My patience thinned.

“Don’t test me.”

“There it is again.”

“What?”

“That belief that I’m the one being tested.”

She didn’t understand.

Not yet.

I wasn’t testing her anymore.

I had stopped doing that somewhere between watching twelve men fail to catch her and seeing those pale fingers appear over the edge of the dock.

I knew enough.

She was intelligent.

Reckless.

Resourceful.

Infuriating.

Brave enough to become dangerous to herself.

And attracted to me despite every reason she had not to be.

What I didn’t know was what the f**k I intended to do with her.

“You’re very full of yourself.”

“And you’re stalling.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

Another step.

“You’re cold. You’re exhausted. Your feet are bleeding, although you’ve apparently decided not to notice, and you’ve been in the water long enough that your lips are beginning to lose their colour.”

Her eyes dropped immediately to her feet.

Predictable at last.

Only for a second.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I was close enough now to see the tremor moving through her body.

Close enough to see droplets caught on her lashes.

Close enough to see the pulse beating rapidly at her throat.

I reached for her when her heel slipped from the edge.

She slapped my hand away.

“I’ve got it.”

My jaw tightened.

“Clearly.”

“I said I’ve got it.”

“And I’ve decided I’ve had enough.”

“Congratulations.”

She smiled.

She f*****g smiled.

Because she’d finally irritated me enough to show it.

“You find this amusing?”

“A little.”

I stared at her.

Forty minutes.

Twelve men.

A shoe.

A bite.

A f*****g marina.

And she was enjoying herself.

Something in me should have been furious.

Instead, I wanted to see how far she’d push.

That was becoming a dangerous habit.

She did.

Of course she did.

By the time she asked whether there was anything else I wanted to include in her performance review, I had reached the end of what remained of my patience.

“Yes.”

Her smile faltered.

I moved.

So did she.

Straight into the f*****g water.

Again.

I stopped at the edge.

For one second I simply stared at the place she’d disappeared.

Then blonde hair broke through the surface.

“You son of a b***h!”

Relief was becoming an emotion I deeply resented tonight.

She gave me the finger.

My mouth betrayed me.

“Very elegant.”

“f**k you.”

“Careful.”

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

There were words that meant one thing when spoken casually and another when spoken between a man and a woman already too aware of each other.

She knew exactly which version I’d meant.

She started swimming backward.

“I’m warning you.”

“So am I.”

I stepped into the water.

Her face was almost worth the ruined trousers.

Almost.

She genuinely hadn’t expected me to follow.

That made two of us.

Twenty-four hours ago, if someone had told me I would walk fully dressed into a freezing marina after a woman who had kicked, bitten and insulted her way through half my organisation, I would have questioned his sobriety.

Yet there I was.

The water climbed past my thighs.

My waist.

Cold seeped through my shirt.

Bonnie stopped moving.

I noticed immediately.

Her eyes dropped.

Not toward the water.

Me.

Interesting.

I continued forward.

Her gaze moved over my chest.

Lower.

Then returned upward with enough speed to be almost insulting.

I smiled.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Not particularly.”

“Liar.”

“I’ve seen better.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Her mouth opened.

I almost laughed at the indignation on her face.

“You’re unbearable.”

“And yet you keep staring.”

“I’m checking for weaknesses.”

“Find any?”

“Several.”

“Name one.”

“Your personality.”

This time I did laugh.

I couldn’t help it.

The sound felt unfamiliar.

When was the last time someone had spoken to me like this?

More importantly, when was the last time I’d allowed them to?

“You’re enjoying this,” she said.

“Immensely.”

“Psychopath.”

“Possibly.”

She kept retreating.

I followed.

Her movements were slowing.

I saw it before she did.

The slight loss of strength in each stroke.

The uneven breathing.

The tremor that had become harder to hide.

“Stop.”

“No.”

“Bonnie.”

“No.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Still swimming.”

“Barely.”

“Still counts.”

Impossible woman.

Then her expression changed.

Pain.

She dropped beneath the surface.