Page 26 of Don't Let Go

Locke? He was stealth and care. You may not realize he was there until he got past all the barriers, but that was part of his charm.

Remy? No one ever saw him coming.

“I have no idea how to respond to any of this.” Admitting it aloud eased more of the tension knotting my spine. I definitely didn’t want to pretend right now. Not when Locke was being so direct. “I want to know,” I continued before he could brush it off or tell me it was okay. “I want to figure it out. But there is so much going on.”

“Agreed,” he said. “So we keep it open and upfront. The next time I kiss you, I’ll give you a heads up.”

It was my turn to laugh. “What if I decide to kiss you?”

“Well, darling,” he drawled. “You can kiss me whenever you want. Let me be absolutely clear… my answer? It’s always going to be yes.”

The flirt was unmistakable as was the fresh tidal wave of heat that swept over me. “Justus…”

“Fallon?”

“You’re dangerous.”

“Not to you,” he promised. Fuck, I wished I remembered that first kiss.

Especially now that I was thinking about a second one. For a minute, okay maybe a couple of minutes, I forgot about the horror behind us. I didn’t forget the others or the danger they were in, but that little reprieve let me catch my breath.

“Dammit.”

“What?”

I blew out another breath. “I hate to say this…I really need to pee.”

Chapter

Eight

REMY

Not tracking Patch and Locke all the way to the mobile unit required discipline. We had multiple SUVs incoming.

“Twenty to twenty-five,” McQuade said, his tone dry. “Starting to think someone out there has a hard-on for our woman.”

Our woman.

The term implied a great deal of possession. With her sweet taste still lingering on my lips, it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. Particularly with her rapid exodus alongside our resident thief.

So, I snorted. “Twenty-five? Not really offering much of a threat.” I could take that many on my own. “I’m going up. You good down here?”

“Hell no,” McQuade said with a smirk as he checked over his weapons, verifying his magazine loads and sliding more into his pockets. “I haven’t been good in years.”

Another alarm went off. “Hmm, looks like we have more company on the way,” I murmured, checking my phone on the way to the roof. Grabbing the drawstring, I pulled the ladder down.

“Ground assault.” McQuade checked the weapons he’d lined up on the counter in the kitchen. “Not on the trail?”

At the top of the ladder, I glanced at the screen. As much as McQuade had laid out and prepared for the best avenues of attack for our location, it was still nice to see it confirmed. “Not on the trail. They’re coming up from the south. Pincer move.”

“Bastards lack any kind of creativity.” McQuade’s derisive snort needed no other explanation. “Keep them focused on us.”

I held up the remote. “Don’t get dead.”

“You too, mate.” His toothy grin was all viciousness with just a scant bit of amusement.

I rolled my eyes and headed up to the roof. I had a lovely perch that allowed me a full 360 view and access to multiple targets. I tucked the ear bud into place. Noise cancellation would let me hear McQuade and shield my ears from the decibels of the rifle firing.

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