Stay Close: A Black Swan Protection Novella (Black Swan Protection Novellas) by Keira Dominguez

Author:Keira Dominguez [Dominguez, Keira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Lucas

“We have to get you out of those clothes,” I say.

Her eyes widen, and I give a half smile. “Where is your mind? Look at this color. You’re a sitting duck.” She pops the trunk, and I meet her at the back of the car, peeling the articles from my body with quick efficiency. Cold rain beats on our backs, and Edie sheds the jacket, struggling with the heavy plastic clips of the coveralls.

“I got you,” I say, shaking blood into my frozen hands. I pinch the clips, and they spring loose. She pushes the heavy material to her ankles, and I stuff the coveralls into the trunk, swapping seats when we return. I turn up the heater, and warm air fogs the windshield.

“Your head,” I say, touching her temple. “Did he hurt you?”

She guides my hand through her hair, over a small lump on the skull. “It’s just a bruise. Hey,” she says, checking my face, touching one of the grooves bracketing my mouth. “I’m all right.” I want to pull her close, but she moves away. “Who was that, anyway?” she asks, clicking her seatbelt into place.

She was drowning in the rain gear, but it was better for my peace of mind than her sweater, which somehow manages to be both thick and clinging, and the relaxed-fit trousers sitting easily on her waist. As easily as my hands.

A sudden rush of adrenaline does funny things. The laser-sharp focus that served me when we were running for our lives is no longer necessary, but the intense, primal rush hasn’t released me from its grip. It’s looking for an outlet, and I feel the drag of attraction between us, narrowing the distance.

I sway, breathing hard. Edie looks up at me, eyes trusting. Maybe the man with the hook only meant to menace her. Maybe his target was the soft tissue of her thigh or arm. I reach forward, halting at the sound of chattering teeth.

I drop my hand. This isn’t the time for an outlet. I pull away and pull onto the road, checking my mirrors. The memory of the attack flashes through my brain—not the calm and clinical kind of memory I use to write up reports to be sent back to Black Swan. This memory burns everything it touches.

“I think he was part of the fishing community,” I say, tightening my jaw, remembering the deadly-looking hook he carried, remembering how he raised it over Edie’s crouching form. For a brief, terrifying second, her life was in his hands. I would have killed him and never lost a moment of sleep about it for the rest of my life.

I press the accelerator, putting more miles between me and the man I left sprawled in the parking lot. Not dead. Not maimed, even. Neutralized until I could get to Edie to safety.

“What makes you think that?”

I force the part of my brain used to making cool-headed observations to take over, caging the animal I almost never let out. “The hook.

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