Page 32 of The Heat is On

“Yeah. And March is just like the guys who killed her. He’s a…he’s an animal, Skye. And I’d die before I’d let him touch you.”

Her eyes widened. And in the midnight sunlit forest, they turned rich and shiny and found the way to his bones, turning them to fire. “Who are you?” she whispered.

He shook his head, half an answer, half a warning, because he saw her intentions—probably relief, maybe a little gratitude, plenty of undeserved hero worship—gather on her face a second before she stepped up and kissed him. A full-on, solid kiss that turned him stock-still. His breath caught, just his heart beating—no,thundering—in his chest.

She held his face in her hands, her lips sweet against his, and he just stood there like an idiot.

Until she moved away, still holding his face, her thumbs drawing down over his beard.

He searched her eyes. “What was that for?”

She bit her lower lip, a sudden flash of fear in her eyes. Well, good. The woman shouldn’t be kissing…well, anyone. But especially not him.

Except, he hadn’t done anything to stop her, had he?

“I don’t know,” she said. “It just…it just felt right.”

Oh boy. Because yes. Yes it did.

She gave a tentative smile.

And he couldn’t stop himself. Really, they should keep running, full out, but his brain simply shut down on that smile. With a groan he wrapped his arms around her waist and his mouth came down on hers, almost fierce in his possession of her. She tasted of the outdoors, of smoke and fire, and she looped her arms around his neck, her body drawn against his.

Skye.

He had lost his mind, but he let impulses take over, not caring. Blissfully not caring for once in his miserable life. He backed her against a tree, pulling her up onto the roots, and it leveraged her face even with his, allowed him to deepen his kiss, to taste her, and forget, just for a moment, that he was a criminal and she was…well, yes, his hostage, if he were to go back to the beginning of the day.

But in truth, she could take him captive, right here, and he’d go willingly.

He broke away from her, breathing hard. “Skye—I…” And there it was again. The truth, scrabbling to be set free. He took a breath. “I’m not who I said I was.”

“A kidnapper? I didn’t think so.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “No, I—”

“Parker, help! Help me!”

Rio jerked away from her as Darryl ran toward him. Blood flowed down his arm where he held a hand over a wound.

“What the—” Rio caught Darryl just as the man stumbled.

“I’m shot.” Darryl sank onto the ground, breathing hard, clearly in pain. “You gotta help me, man.”

“Yeah, uh. Why—so you can take another whack at me, finish the job? I…don’t think so, pal.” Rio wasn’t sure if he’d meant it or not, frankly. Front in his mind was getting Skye away and back to safety as fast as he could.

He turned to do just that, but Darryl grabbed him by the cuff of his pants. “I know who you are, man. I know you’re supposed to keep me safe, okay? You get me out of here, and I’ll do it.”

Rio stared down at Darryl, his pale face stark against his red hair. Blood oozed between his fingers, dissecting his words. He knew…what—?

But Rio cut to the chase. “What will you do?”

“I’ll tell you where to find Buttles. And I’ll testify against him. Just like you want.”

His mouth opened. He glanced at Skye, who was frowning at Darryl.

“C’mon, man. I know you were sent in to get me to talk. I know you’re FBI.”

“You’re…you’re an FBI agent?”

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