Page 51 of Heston
London leaned over and softly pressed her lips to his cheek. “You’re all mine,” she whispered, “and I’m going to molest the hell out of you when I get back. Sleep, Heston. I won’t be gone long.”
Wouldn’t he be surprised when he woke up to coffee and breakfast?
Stealthily, she crept downstairs and quietly unlocked his front door. Once outside, she sucked in a bellyful of crisp, night air and took off running down the street. She hadn’t kept track of how they’d gotten to his place. Just knew she needed the chilly wind in her face to clear her mind. She wasn’t worried about Heston’s dad, but for sure, she owed Bellisa an apology.
She didn’t intend to go far. Had gone around the block he lived on when an idea struck. Why not stop at that cute little bread store and take Bellisa a box of sugary sweetness? Whatwas the owner’s name? Charlee O’Donnell? Sounded right. The store sat in the middle of the block. Maybe the next one over? Why not surprise BellisaandHeston?
Intent on setting things right, London grinned as she ran. She couldn’t wait to wake Heston. Maybe she’d jump his handsome bones before he even knew who was assaulting him. Maybe she’d wake him up with her tongue and her mouth. She grinned wider. Hewasthe best ice cream cone she’d ever licked.
London was two doors north of the elongated, pink-and-white striped dome awning of that quaint little bakery when she spotted it. Great! The day was looking up.
Until two gnarly guys dressed in black suits stepped out of the alley.
She cut to her left, giving them the inside track, just to be courteous. Also to keep her distance. Women running solo had to keep their guard up.
Instead of stepping aside, the guys spread their feet and blocked her way forward.
“Hey, guys,” she offered breathily. “Coming through. Either get out of my way or—”
Some moron grabbed her from behind and yelled, “I got her! Open the trunk!”
She squirmed to loosen his hold, the ass. Reared her head back to bash his nose. But he was bigger and the arm around her neck was tight. With a grunt, he lifted her off her feet.
She kicked and thrashed, fighting his stranglehold. Not giving up, damn it!
By then, his two buddies were at the car parked by the curb. The trunk was open.
“No!” she hissed, putting all the vehemence she could muster into escaping. She scratched. She kicked. She yelled. “I’m not going into that trunk! Help! Someone help me!”
The other creep ran to assist.
“No! No! You can’t do this!” London screamed louder. But the streets were empty. This was her fault. She should’ve stayed in bed where she belonged. With Heston.
The guy behind her clapped a gloved hand over her mouth and jerked her head to the side.
She cocked her knee, intending a backward kick to his nuts.
A tiny sting hit the crook of her neck. With one shuddering breath, her world melted into murky darkness. They were bigger than her. She was too late to the fight. Too weak. There was no way she would win. She could barely keep her eyes open. Wasn’t sure what was happening to her until her limp body crashed inside the trunk of that truck, car, whatever. Her cheek burned when it met the harsh, cheap interior carpet.
Everything went black. She couldn’t see, couldn’t tell which way was up. Didn’t matter. She jerked her arm out from under her, then rolled to her side. Her poor head buzzed. She tried to focus, to make her eyes work. To remember. Not happening. Every self-defense move she’d learned vanished into the ether.
When a tiny yellow light flashed overhead, she came face to face with two blank eyes staring at her.Oh, shit. The Irish sniper. Ryan Malloy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Heston woke up slowly, happily. At last, he knew what his life would be like today, tomorrow, and every morning after. The talk with London last night had been long overdue. He now understood why she’d left him. She’d turned her back on her parents when they’d denigrated him. In doing that, they’d questioned her moral compass, her sanity, and her beautiful brain. They’d treated her like a foolish, inexperienced child instead of the very savvy adult she’d been. To save herself, she’d walked away from them and everything they stood for. Their plan for her to take over their business. Their plan for her to marry a nice white boy who worked for them.
That was the night she’d chosen Heston over them. But what had he done? Precisely what her parents did. Exerted too much dominance. Disrespected her. Demeaned her accomplishments and her dreams. Treated her like an idiot. Which was why she’d left him. She’d only left him to save herself. And she should have. London was not only independent, smart, funny, daring, sexy, and perfectly whole by herself, she didn’t need anyone to complete her. Never had.
She didn’t need to be babied, led around by her nose, or directed, either. She was that butterfly on the breeze, so damned beautiful. Fragile, but strong. A creature of light whose greatest need was not to be protected, but to be set free to live her life the way she wanted. The way she needed.
She was all his now, and he intended to slather her in love and kindness the rest of her days. But the sun was high. He’d slept too late. Heston opened his eyes and turned to London, his beautiful queen.
Her side of the bed was empty.
“Hey, babe, where are you?” he called out as his palm swept the bed. Not even warm. She’d been gone for a while. The shower wasn’t running. No aroma of coffee in the air.Where could she be? Heston bolted upright and called again, “London?”
No answer.
