Savage Hearts

36

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to call me crazy.”

Ignoring that, he says, “You also want me to tell you to spread your legs.”

My face goes hot. “You’re disgusting.”

“So I can put my face between your thighs and relieve that ache with my tongue.”

A vivid picture of him doing just that appears in my mind, affecting my entire nervous system. My heartbeat goes haywire. My mouth goes dry. I suck in a sharp breath, trembling.

He sees the effect his words have on me and leans close to my ear. His tone is low and gravelly.

“Say please, and I will.”

I can’t speak. I can only shake my head and pray that he gets bored of this game. Gets bored and disappears, this time forever.

He presses the softest of kisses to my throat, then whispers, “Say please. Let me taste you.”

Giving me a little preview of his skill, he takes my earlobe between his warm, soft lips, and sucks on it.

Blistering heat flashes over my body. A faint moan slips from my mouth. My n*****s harden, and my brain starts screaming Please! repetitively. I bite my lip so it doesn’t come out.

Then Kieran bursts through the bedroom door and everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

20

Mal

A

s always in a gunfight, things happen fast.

The bodyguard makes his first tactical mistake by not hitting the lights. If he did, it would’ve temporarily blinded me. But my eyes are adjusted to the dark, and his aren’t.

Also, he’s standing in the middle of the doorway, outlined in light from the hall.

He couldn’t have made himself a better target if he’d tried.

I get off the first shot.

He drops to a knee and fires back.

He misses. The slug embeds itself into the drywall over my shoulder.

I’m aware of Riley screaming but block it out, concentrating on the bodyguard. I plug him with two more rounds before he’s down, coughing up blood.

The blond bodyguard with the spiderweb neck tattoo appears in the doorway. He’s crouched low, weapon at the ready, finger on the trigger. I expect to feel a bullet rip through me somewhere, but movement from my right distracts me.

It’s Riley.

Jumping in front of me.

Screaming, “No!”

There’s a split second of confusion where I don’t understand what’s happening. What is she doing? Why isn’t she staying on the bed?

Then a shot rings out. Her body jerks. She slams back against me with a cry, then drops to the floor at my feet and lies there, unmoving.

The bodyguard crouched in the doorway stares at her in blank, white-faced horror.

The moment of confusion clears, and I understand what happened.

She just took the bullet meant for me.

Deliberately.

Howling rage burns through my soul. A roar of fury rips from my chest. I step over Riley, gun pointed at the guard’s head, but stop short when she groans.

“No, Mal. Please. Don’t hurt him.”

The guard is frozen in place. He can’t look away from Riley. He’s still holding his gun out, but his eyes are wide and unblinking, focused on her.

I’ve seen this before, this type of disbelief. It’s a kind of denial so powerful, it can shut down a man’s entire nervous system.

His brain is refusing to acknowledge what he’s done. His whole being has become non-operational. I could empty an entire magazine into his chest and he wouldn’t even blink.

“Mal. Please.”

It’s weak. The barest of whispers.

But hearing it, hearing the way she says my name, takes just enough edge off my murderous impulse to rip the guard to pieces with my bare hands.

I bludgeon him with my gun, instead.

He topples sideways with a grunt, blood pouring from his temple.

I turn around, pick Riley up, and cradle her motionless body against my chest as I walk out the door.

21

Declan

W

hen I answer the phone, Spider is in such a state of distress, I can’t understand a word he’s saying. All I hear is a garbled mess of English and Gaelic, shouted at high speed.

“Calm down, mate. You’re not making any sense. What’s happened?”

He drags in great gulps of air, then produces a single word that raises all the hair on the back of my neck.

“Malek.”

Bloody hell.

From where I’m sitting in the leather chair in the living room of the safe house in Manhattan, I can see Sloane making herself a drink. Standing in the dining room pouring whiskey into a crystal highball glass, she looks preoccupied. Worried.

Knowing that overhearing this conversation will make that look worsen, I rise and walk quickly into the bedroom.

As soon as I’m out of earshot, I demand, “Tell me.”

After listening for less than thirty seconds, I’m so angry I could crush the phone in my fist.

Through clenched teeth, I say, “How the f**k did he get in?”

“I don’t know. We were locked down. None of the alarms went off. He’s a bloody ghost, that one.”

“Kieran?”

“Down. Shot three times. Still breathing, but it doesn’t look good.” He pauses to gulp more air. “There’s more. It’s bad.”

I brace myself for the worst, which is exactly what I get.

“Before that Russian bastard ran off with Riley…I…” His voice breaks. “I accidentally shot her. It was meant for him, but she got in the way.”

Breath rushes out of my lungs in an audible whoosh. My life flashes in front of my eyes.

When Sloane finds out about this, we’re all dead. Kieran, Spider, the entire crew.

Me included.

I manage to ask, “Is she alive?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. f**k, boss, I’m so sorry. I’m killing myself over it.”