Page 14 of Wrath
“Wait.” She ran after him. “Chef.”
Six
When Misha brokethrough the back door and into the waste area, it was empty. She walked around to the front lot and found him leaning against the restaurant wall, hands on his knees, breathing in deep gasps. He caught sight of her and straightened, running a hand over his head, pulling his cap off to reveal jet black hair.
“It’s okay,” she said, walking slowly. Instinct told her to treat him like a wounded wild animal.Caution. “Whatever that was, I’m not going to tell anyone. You can trust me.”
Maybethatwas why he worked there anonymously. It was clear he came from a fancy restaurant. The way he’d filleted that fish with dexterity was not a skill learned in a prison café. He’d moved about the kitchen with complete confidence, as though he’d been in charge of one once. This man had secrets.
He tracked her movement as she approached. It was hard not to be intimidated by him. Biceps bulged, jaw flexed, eyes pierced. The man was two-hundred and something pounds of cut, lethal muscle. Alek had told her what he did to Dimitri’s men. Alek had also acted out the violent act with vigor, like a hero-struck teenager, punching the air and pretending it was his opponent.
“What’s your name?” she asked, but the chef stayed tight lipped. “Don’t want to tell me?”
He shook his head.
“Are you running from the police?”
Another shake.
“But you are running from someone.” She stepped closer. Almost there. A yard away. A glance down at the old wound on his neck and he flinched. There was something about the way he got nervous when she looked at it, something more than usual.
“You running from the person who did that?” she blurted, pointing.
His gaze zipped to her so fast that she knew she was on the right track. Wow.The dude had baggage. Who was she to judge someone on their past? Actions were what counted.
Standing there, staring at each other, she didn’t know what to do but try to lighten the mood. “Hey. Turn that frown upside down.”
That earned her an eye roll. She smiled and shuffled closer. Within touching distance, now.
“No use crying over spilled potato flakes, right?” She tried for another laugh.
He deadpanned, but his eyes began to dance.
“Are there any clichés that will make you laugh?” she asked. “How about I use my posh accent? That always diffuses a tough situation.Yes, dah-ling. What say we forget about all this nonsense and head inside for a cup of tea?”
A horrified expression came over his face.
“Am I really that bad?”
This time, his lip twitched.
Damn him, he was doing this on purpose, tryingnotto smile. Drawn to him like a devil to a flame, she stepped closer, into his personal space. She needed to see that smile, wanted to obliterate the pain in his eyes, and to give him something else to look forward to. Before she could help herself, a sigh escaped her lips, and she touched his scruffy jaw. It was only meant to be a swipe, to remove the caught potato flakes, but the instant she made contact, the heat of his skin seared her nerves, catching fire down her arm.
All at once she was consumed with him, his scent—woody and citrus—his heat, his rugged exterior. He must have felt the same charge between them because he leaned into her hand, now cupping his face, and released a jagged breath. She knew then and there that this dark, mysterious man was going to be her next big mistake, her next one-night stand. A moment with him between the sheets would probably be the most passion she’d seen in her entire life. One night’s memories would keep her fire fueled for years to come. The very idea had her heart hammering in her chest.
His lashes lowered, gaze stuck on her tongue flicking out to wet her lips.
She leaned in. He leaned in. Heat bounced between them. Dopamine hit her bloodstream.Yes. Kiss me now.
Suddenly, her back slammed against the wall. It all happened so fast. One minute, she was in front of him and he was against the wall. The next, he caged her in, darkness and frustration simmering in his eyes, accusing her. With his hips pinning her to the wall, his enormous hand wrapped around her throat, and eyes flaring with defiance as if to say,Is this what you want?
She should be afraid. She should be peeing her pants. But she wasn’t. Regret flooded his blue eyes as they darted down to where he touched her. He let go. Eyes filled with something softer, almost yearning, flickered back to her face and he lifted his fingers, hesitated, then drew back.
He wanted her. He was tryingnotto want her, and that was… what was that? Some kind of warning?Stay away, because I’ll only hurt you…
But he didn’t. He’d pulled back with regret.
With the braveness of a deer staring into the eyes of a wolf, she pushed forward until her lips touched his, and he let her. He tasted better than he smelled. Human-made aphrodisiac ran down her tongue, tingling through her body and hitting her between the legs.
