Page 43 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"Jesus Christ," Vanessa breathes from behind the column, staring at me with wide eyes.
"You just... you're so..." She swallows hard, unable to finish. Something about the way she's looking at me heats my blood.
"Frost, fourth man neutralized in the alley," Cole's voice reports through my earpiece. "Clean shots."
"Copy. Exfil in progress."
Kade nods, moving to secure our exit route. "Thirty seconds to clear the building."
I grab Vanessa's hand, pulling her toward the fire escape while she clutches her bag. "Time to move, bunny."
I test the fire escape platform before helping her through, metal groaning under our weight. Each step down sends vibrations through the structure while we descend rapidly.
"This thing sounds ready to collapse," she warns, but keeps pace.
"I'll manage." Below, my pristine white Ducati waits beside large green dumpsters with black lids, the industrial containers that serve entire apartment buildings.
"Blood on your face," Vanessa observes when we reach the bottom landing, studying my features with that same hungry intensity.
"Leave it."
"Serial killer chic isn't my favorite look on you." She reaches up without warning.
I catch her wrist before she makes contact, pulse hammering under my fingertips. "Don't."
"Fine. Terrify innocent bystanders." But her breathing picks up, and something dark flickers in her eyes when I don't immediately release her.
"Better than crying," I point out, finally letting go.
"This isn't my first rodeo with dangerous people." She glances back up at her loft windows. "But those names, those faces... Maya and I spent months tracking them."
Her eyes find mine, something unreadable passing through them. Trust mixed with desire. "Thank you. For..." She gestures vaguely at the building.
"Don't thank me yet. Still exposed."
I reach for my phone, fingers steady despite the adrenaline. Blood stains my knuckles as I scroll to Reaper's contact. The copper taste of violence lingers in my mouth.
He answers immediately. "Reaper. Need a cleanup. Vanessa Reyes's place. Fourth floor, Unit 4C. Full disaster. Everything disappears. Tonight."
"Copy," comes his gravelly response.
I lead her to my motorcycle, the white Ducati looking out of place between the industrial waste containers. Grabbing my helmet from the seat, I toss it to her.
Our fingers brush during the exchange. Another shock races up my arm, completely inappropriate for our current situation. Her sharp intake of breath suggests she felt it, too.
"Where are we going?" she asks, clutching the helmet against her chest while studying my face.
I swing my leg over the bike, engine roaring to life beneath me. The vibration grounds me, pulling me back from whatever edge I crossed upstairs. But Vanessa's scent, her closeness, the way she looked at me while I killed those men—it's doing things to my control.
"Get on," I growl, voice rougher than usual. Something possessive crawls through my chest as her eyes widen slightly. "Hold tight."
Vanessa hesitates for just a moment before sliding the helmet over her head. She climbs behind me, thighs pressingagainst mine as her arms encircle my waist. The trust implicit in that gesture does something dangerous to my restraint.
"Tighter," I command, grabbing her wrists and pulling her closer until her chest presses against my back, soft curves molding against my frame.
Her body fits perfectly against mine, every point of contact sending heat through my system. Her arms tighten around my ribs, and the way she's holding me, trusting me completely after what she just witnessed...
The Ducati lurches forward as I throttle out of the alley. Time to move before I do something I'll regret.
