Page 72 of Saint

Creeping forward between parked cars, he scanned the surrounding area. Silent as a tomb. He briefly wondered if he was in the wrong spot. But, no. The message had said 222 Elm Street. Somebody was playing with him, and he wanted to know who.

He spotted the elevator, noting there were three levels. So far, the ground floor seemed quiet enough, so maybe whoever had messaged him was on the second or third floor. As he considered his options, a sound snagged his attention. Spinning, he lifted his weapon, sweeping it past cars, searching for the source.

It sounded like someone had kicked a rock.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and some weird sixth sense made him pause. He was beginning to feel like the proverbial mouse and had the distinct impression a cat lurked in the nearby shadows. And, goddammit, he hated games.

“Who’s there?” he called out. Silence. “You texted me. If you aren’t going to reveal yourself, I’m outta here.”

A stone came flying from the right and pinged off his boot. Brax turned his attention in the direction it came from and stalked forward. A shadow darted between cars, and he took off running after it.

When he reached the spot where he’d caught sight of the shadow, he instantly froze. The sultry scent of jasmine filled his nose. Unbidden images of flaming red hair and sage green eyes assaulted him. Only one woman smelled like honey-dipped jasmine.

Quinn.

Mind reeling, totally confused, Brax lifted his Glock, squinting into the gloom ahead. It couldn’t be her.

Could it?

Determined to find out, he hurried forward, staying low, not making a target of himself. When he reached the end of the row of cars, he paused to assess his position. Another rock skipped across the pavement and stopped less than a foot in front of him. It had come from the left this time and he pivoted.

On high alert, he dropped down to the ground and peered beneath the parked vehicles. His gaze scanned the gloom and caught on a pair of slim boots as the wearer bolted from the spot. His little game player was making his orherway throughthe maze of cars across the aisle, moving deeper into the garage. Almost as though she were trying to lure him somewhere.

Too smart to fall for that shit, he backed up and started circling around the other way, planning to meet her from the other side. Because, yeah, his gut screamed it was a woman toying with him. And while he had his suspicions, he couldn’t say it with any certainty. Yet. But he was going to find out.

???

Where the hell are you?Quinn wondered, tightening her fist around the rock. With a frown, she dropped down and searched for Braxton’s large, booted feet. Dammit, he’d stopped following her. Suddenly, she no longer felt like the predator.

She was on the other side of the garage, near the first laser tripwire, but Braxton was a ghost. He’d just pulled a disappearing act. She huffed out a sigh and hunkered down out of sight. Maybe he’d guessed it was a trap and snuck out.

Or, maybe he was now hunting her.

A chill moved down her spine. A moment after the ominous thought hit her, a muffled pop filled the air. A bullet tore past her face, skimming her cheek, and she rolled sideways with a muffled curse.

That sonofabitch just shot at her!

Fuming, she popped up and ran, making sure to stay low and out of range. If he wanted a gun fight, she’d give him one. Pulling her Glock 19 from its holster, she moved behind an SUV, lifted her weapon and fired in his general vicinity.

Her gut told her to move, and good thing. A second later, a bullet slammed into the SUV’s windshield, shattering it into aspiderweb of cracks. That was too close. Where was he? How had he gotten such a good shot?

An icy trickle of dread slithered through her body. All this time she’d been low, staying on the ground. But that shot had come from a higher place.

Her gaze wandered up and she saw him, standing on the roof of a car, body behind a pole, using it as cover. They momentarily locked gazes before he jumped off the vehicle and raced toward her.

Spinning around, Quinn bolted. Even from that distance, she could still picture those silver-gray eyes of his. Sometimes they’d reminded her of shards of ice, other times, they’d resembled liquid mercury. More specifically, they hit that melting point whenever he’d been balls-deep inside of her.

God, she hated that he was the best sex she’d ever had. But it was a fact, and denying it wouldn’t change the insane number of orgasms he’d given her or the needy sounds only he could make come out of her throat.

Damn him and his magical cock. She should’ve cut it off when she’d had the chance.

Even though things had ended terribly between them, some nights she still missed him. Missed those beautifully serious eyes and the way they crinkled when he smiled. And even though she could take care of herself, sometimes it still felt nice to be wrapped in a big, warm, protective pair of muscled arms.

Biting back a frustrated growl, she threw herself behind another SUV and realized it was hers. Once again, it was suspiciously quiet. If he was moving around to try and trap her again, to catch her off guard from behind, then that meant one very big thing. He’d step right into the path of the tripwire. Thewhole back corner of the garage would blow up, triggering more explosions, and Braxton Graves would be dead. Exactly what she wanted.

A knot formed in her stomach.It’s what you want, Q,she tried to convince herself.

Wasn’t it?

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