Sierra and I step outside the lunch spot and into the crowd, and I slide my arm around her waist. She twists away and steps in front of me. “Friends, Asher.” A man rams into her and shoves her into me.
I settle my hands on her waist and pull her to me, molding her body to mine. And damn, I really like her body against mine. “You okay?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her hand flattens on my chest and she stares at it a moment before granting me a blue-eyed stare. “Yes, now I am, I think.”
And I don’t believe she’s talking about the crowd or the shove. “You were saying something about friends?” I ask.
“Was I?”
“Yes. I believe you were.”
She holds up her phone, dodging the topic without pulling away. “What subway do I take to get to this address?”
“What’s at this address?”
“A store I need to go to.”
I pull her around to my side and slide her hand to my arm, giving her the choice to hold onto me or not, but letting her know what I want. Her holding on to me the way I plan to hold onto her. “I’ll take you there.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says, and she holds on. She doesn’t let go.
I cover her hand with mine and turn us down another street. “I know,” I say. “But I am.”
She smiles up at me and I smile down at her, and in these small moments, it would be easy to forget that she’s obviously running for her life and I’m hunting a serial killer that’s killed five women that look just like her. But then the next moment comes, and we’re walking down the street, my senses on alert, waiting for whoever was following us back near her place. And someone was following us.
“Do you have an actual car?” she asks when we step onto another subway car, standing at a pole together again, and I make damn sure our legs are touching. “Do people have cars here?”
“I do,” I say. “Though I rarely drive the damn thing.”
“Is there a garage at your apartment? I see cars stacked on top of each other at random lots.”
“Those are common and it’s a nightmare to get to your car with any urgency. I live three blocks from Walker Security. The offices have a large garage where I have parking privileges. I leave it there and if I ever need it, it’s usually work related anyway.”
“What do you drive?”
“Do you really want to know?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says. “If it’s a nice car, so what? Your success is a good thing, not a bad thing. It just didn’t match bartending.”
“It’s a BMW.”
“What color and make?”
“Black. M4. What did you drive in Denver?”
“A BMW. Also black. 3 series.”
“You had money.”
“A 3 isn’t that fancy, but yes. I did.”
“And now you have nothing,” I observe.
“I have my freedom,” she says, despite the fact that she’s running, which tells me once again, this is a man she’s running from. Someone like my father. Someone powerful that she doesn’t yet know I can take on and beat. But she will and soon.
Our train arrives at the stop and we exit together, and I am quick to place her hand back on my arm, because yeah, I want to touch her. I want her to touch me. But I also want her to feel that she isn’t alone. That she can walk the streets and not look over her shoulder, because I will hurt anyone who tries to hurt her.
We walk a few blocks and reach our destination, which turns out to be a thrift store. She smiles up at me. “Now you’re going to wish you wouldn’t have come along. You have to wait for me to shop.”
“I’ll go find the ‘guy’ chair I’m told exists in all stores,” I say. “Or so the Walker brothers tell me.”
She laughs and starts shopping while I hunt down that chair that I find in the corner. Sierra starts looking through racks of clothes, and fuck, it kills me not to just take her to a real store, but I watch her, I see the way her eyes light up as she picks her items. That thousand dollars in tip money made a difference for her. She can shop and pay her own way and she’s basically told me she is running from a man with money who controlled her. Taking care of her is a slippery slope. Lord only knows I’ve watched the Walker men try to manage a balance with their women, and they didn’t have the circumstances I’m experiencing with Sierra. And fuck, again. I’m thinking of her as my woman and I just met her. I’m also sitting in a chair in a store while a woman shops. I’ve never done this shit. I’ve never been willing, but I am now. I will do anything to be close to this woman and keep her safe.
She appears in front of me with two handled bags and a smile on her beautiful face. “I’m ready. Your torture is complete.”
I stand up, thinking about that protection I just vowed. “I assume you didn’t use your real social at the bar?”
Her smile fades. “I told them I’d work for tips only.”
“Which was smart, but it also tells the dickhead manager of that place that you’re hiding from something. It makes you vulnerable.”
“I know that,” she says. “But I had no choice.”
I slide my hand under her hair. “You have me now.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t. Don’t say—”
I kiss her, God I kiss her right here in the back corner of a store between racks of clothes. I drink this woman in, and press my tongue to hers, with the slow, savoring of her taste that I have hungered for again, every moment, since I last kissed her. “You have me now,” I repeat.
“That was unfair,” she whispers breathlessly. “My hands are full.”
“Feel free to drop the bags and touch me, sweetheart. I won’t complain.”
And she does. She drops the bags and her arms wrap around me and her mouth closes over mine, and I can taste her urgency, her fear that I am going to erase. She arches into me, and I can feel a dark seed of need and torment in her. A push and pull that is a warning before she shoves against my chest. “I can’t do this,” she whispers, her fingers curling around my shirt. “Don’t you understand? We can’t do this. He will kill you.”
“Whoever he is, whatever he said he’d do to you —”
“My husband. He’s my husband and I can’t ever change that.”
I feel that announcement like a punch in the chest, but when she tries to pull away, I reject her withdrawal and I feel none of my own. I hold onto her, damn glad we’ve managed to remain alone in this corner of the store.
“He’s not your husband. He’s the man you’re running from and I feel no guilt over kissing you. And you shouldn’t, either. Tell me who he is and I’ll make this go away.”
“He will kill you.”
“Ex-SEAL, sweetheart. I promise you that I’ve faced much nastier people than this man, and I am not afraid.”
“He is far more powerful than you are dangerous.”
“You underestimate me and Walker Security. You’re smart. Be smart now and let me help.”
“I am smart. That’s how I’ve stayed alive for nine months. I’m also smart enough to keep your over-confident macho ass, who thinks he can save the world and me, alive, too. Which means we are no longer friends.”
She tries to pull away. I kiss her again. She tries to resist, but in a hot minute she’s melting into me, but fuck, she’s kissing me like it’s goodbye. “Stop doing that,” she whispers when I pull back.
“We’re not saying goodbye.”
“I just did and I’m sorry. I never should have dragged you into my hell.”
The store attendant clears her throat and I’m forced to release Sierra, who grabs her bags and starts walking. I’m on her heels in an instant and following her out of the store. The minute we’re clear of the door, I take one of her bags and slide my arm around her waist. “He doesn’t get to win.”
“He always wins.”
“Not this time.”
We head down the subway steps, a rush of people suffocating us, but I don’t let her go. I hold her close, and when we are finally in a subway car, at another pole facing each other, there is a crush of people around us, pushing against us. I cup her face and press my cheek to hers. Her hand presses to my chest. “I won’t let him have you.”
Her fingers curl around my shirt, holding onto me, not pushing me away, but she won’t look at me. And that’s fine. We need to handle this alone. Scream. Fight. Fuck. Whatever it takes. Yeah. Fuck. We need to fuck and just get past that wall. The wall she’s put up between us because of this bastard I am going to destroy.
Finally, we reach our stop, and while we wait for the doors to open, she looks at me. There is that punch of connection between us and I see it register in her face. Neither of us were looking for this, but it’s here, it’s happening, and I’m damn sure not letting us walk away from it for some asshole who didn’t deserve her. We exit the car and head toward the street and once we’re there, we don’t speak but there is a distinct crackle of tension between us, an explosion that is just waiting to erupt.
We reach her apartment when the sun is setting, and when Sierra punches in the code, my spidey senses go off right about the time there is a flash in my peripheral vision. I turn and find nothing, no one, except an old lady with a walker talking to an old man. I’d say that flash was my imagination, but I’m not one to see or feel things that don’t exist. And those spidey senses of mine don’t want to be ignored, but I’ve never been quite so ready to face an enemy and end them as I am the man in Sierra’s life.