Page 63 of No Promises, No Lies

“Aidan?”

Of-fucking-courseit’s Aidan. I have one hand against his hard chest and the other hand gripping the knife tightly and pressing it purposefully against his throat. The cold steel glints in the dim glow of the streetlight.

His hand is no longer on my arm. Instead, he has them both raised up, palms facing me in surrender. The initial wide eyed shock I saw on his face has morphed into a wicked smile. “Little lion’s got claws.”

“Don’t call me that.” I drop the knife from his throat, knowing full well he could take it from me in a second if he wanted. “What do you want Aidan?”Honestly, hasn’t he done enough?

He looks around at the deserted sidewalk. “How are you getting home?”

The question’s unexpected. I sigh, lifting my phone and giving it a little shake, showing off the half-completed ride request.

“Seriously?” His eyes narrow on my screen. “Absolutely not.” He crosses his arms and gives me a stern look.Where does he get the nerve?

“What, did you think I was going to call Niko to come get me?” I give him a long look. “Do you think I have adeathwish?” I turn and continue down the sidewalk, away from the bar andawayfrom Aidan. I look around for a street name to enter into the ride-share app.

Aidan’s hand comes down over my shoulder, plucking the phone right out of my hands.

“Hey!” I leap after it, clawing for the device. But he uses height to his advantage, easily pulling the phone out of reach. Grinning down at me, he’s clearly amused.

It’s enough to make me explode. I punch him, hard, catching him by surprise. Shock and delight dance in those emerald eyes. “I didn’t take you as one who likes to play dirty Kostalova.” he laughs.

“Give. Me. Back. My. Phone.” I seethe, contemplating pulling out the knife again.

“No.” The smirk on Aidan’s face is enough to make my blood boil as he slips my phone into the front pocket of his jeans. Taunting, dismissive and utterly infuriating. My eyes track the movement and as soon as he deposits it, I make a dive for his jeans.

He easily fends me off, trapping my wrists in his rough hands and pulling them away from his groin. “Easy there love, didn’t know you were so eager to get into my pants.”Again with that damn Irish accent.He winks at me and I crinkle my nose in disgust.

I open my mouth to give him an earful, but I’m cut off as Aidan scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I kick my feet and beat my fists into his back. “What are you doing?” I shout, looking around for any bystanders who can help. But the side street I’ve walked us down is completely deserted. “Put. Me. Down.” A closed fist hit to his lower back accompanies each word.

“No thanks, kitten. Someone’s gotta make sure you get home safe and stay the fuck out of Cam Reeves’ bed.”

The nerve of this guy.“Not your job,” I point out. “I can sleep with whatever asshole I want to.”

He jostles me on his shoulder, and I let out a grunt. He repositions me so he can wrap his biceps around my flailing legs, pinning them down against his chest. “Thatassholehas a reputation for drugging his little conquests.I thoughtI was doing you a favor. Unless unconscious non-con is your flavor of choice?”

I still in his arms, processing the words.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Fine,” I huff out, letting my body deflate and giving him the win. “But I want to go home.” But Aidan is carrying me back toward the bar.

“Where the fuck do you think we’re going?”

He comes to a stop, sliding me down his chest until my feet are firmly planted back on the ground. I’m calmer now—still digesting what he just told me. Aidan gestures to the left of us and I look over to see we’re standing on the curb right next to an awfully familiar matte black bike. I recognize the little holographic green shamrock on the fuel tank. It’s the same one I have painted on my stomach.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He steps away to retrieve the helmet he has hanging on his handlebars, keeping one eye on me, as if he expects me to bolt.

I haven’t ruled out that very possibility myself... “You’retaking me home?” I eye him warily before looking around for potential witnesses to another Irish kidnapping. The line outside of Last Call has finally filed through, but there are a few people still milling about.

The wind picks up and I shiver, noticing the cold for the first time. Both my anger, and the warmth Aidan had unintentionally provided, ebbing out of me.

The Breakers’ defenseman looks me over, the amused smirk on his face turning into a frown. He reaches over, grabbing his motorcycle hoodie off his bike and offering it to me.

Weighing my options, I glance between him and the sweatshirt. I’m not getting very far in my skirt and heels without my phone. I could go back in the bar and find the girls, but he’d only follow me inside.

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