Page 4 of Assassin's Prey
She grabbed on to my coat just as hard as I had her. “I’m okay.”
A quick survey showed no visible cuts or bruises, though I knew the latter would show up eventually. She buried her head against me and shook.
A crowd had started to gather. “Let’s go.”
“But Remi—”
Abby turned to my brother, but he was already up and flanking her. He knew exactly what I did—we had to get her out of here, now. This had been a setup.
“Let’s go,” I repeated, half carrying and half dragging her through the people circling us. “Now.” She could fall apart later. Right now, safety came before feelings.
Abby knew the tone I used. She was no longer the girl I’d been able to frighten into compliance, but she was smart; she knew when to obey. Her feet stumbled but caught up to my pace, and she held her tongue as Remi and I hurried her down the block, away from the bank.
“Car?” I asked Remi.
“I’ll get it.” He jerked his chin down the block toward the garage on the other side of the street.
“Eli?” I barked.
My earpiece crackled back to life. “I’ve got him covered.” He’d watch Remi’s back from surrounding cameras.
Remi already had his keys out. “Let’s go, little brother,” he told Eli.
I knew one of them would text me where to meet. In the meantime I wanted Abby out of sight. We hurried down the block, then took a left on the cross street where Remi took a right. A coffee shop waited just ahead. As we stepped inside, I scanned the line, tables, staff. Nothing set my warning buzzers off. I hustled Abby across the room and into a bathroom at the back, making sure to lock the door behind me.
“What are we—”
My mouth on hers ate up the rest of her words. Noise galloped in my ears, drowning out everything but the agony of knowing I’d almost lost her. Lost this. She opened to me just like I needed her to, let me claim her. It wasn’t until the taste of salt registered on my tongue that I was able to leash the savage intensity driving me and pull back.
“Shh.” I eased away, my fingers automatically wiping at the tears running down her ghost-white cheeks. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay, little bird.”
She laughed, a sickly little sound that ended in a hiccup. “Just reaction. I’ll stop soon, I promise.”
I hated tears. They were a distraction, a weakness, sometimes a weapon. But I’d learned enough with Abby to know she sometimes had to let it out. She got from tears what I got from sex or a fight—a release.
I hugged her closer, burying her face in my neck, trying hard to ignore the blood pooling in my groin. With Abby in the same room, much less against me, the reaction was a given; with the adrenaline roaring through my system, it was raging-caveman aggressive. I needed to fuck her, reassure us both that we were alive, that she was safe.
Abby didn’t need to deal with that shit right now. Later…
Slowly the shudders in her body quieted. I gave her a minute more, then leaned my upper body back so I could look into her eyes. “Okay.”
She sucked in a massive breath. “Okay.”
I shucked my coat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Abby removed her coat and blouse at my urging. While she splashed cold water over her face, I took off my button-down. It would be big on her, but what mattered was the color, not the fit. After drying her face, I buttoned her into it.
“I think you might draw more attention than me with that look,” she said, eyeing my bare chest, the expanse of tattoos marking my body. And fuck if that look didn’t have my cock tighter than a drum. She’d always been fascinated by my ink.
“No doubt.” I shrugged back into my sport coat. Buttoned, only a vee of skin at the collar showed. Abby’s coat I turned inside out before holding it for her to slide on. “Want the shirt?”
She glanced at her blouse, bunched in my fist. Another shudder shook her. “No.”
I tossed it in the trash can just as my phone buzzed in my pocket.
“Remi’s ready. Let’s go.”
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