Page 53 of My Masked Shadow
I blink. “This thing is armored?”
Caleb snorts. “You think I drive a regular SUV when half my clientele have price tags on their heads?”
Fair point.
“I can help,” I say anyway, stubbornness flaring with a burst of courage. “I’m not useless.”
“You’re not,” Ethan says immediately. “You’re brilliant. You’re brave. And you’re getting in that car.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. It still makes my hackles rise. “You can’t just?—”
He steps closer, lowering his forehead to mine. The gun is lowered at his side, a cold weapon, while his eyes are warm and furious.
“Barbara Neal,” he says quietly, “if something happens to you because I let you stay in the line of fire, I will burn this city down and salt the ashes. Don’t make me choose between your pride and your pulse.”
My chest squeezes. Damn him. Damn him for saying things like that.
“Fine,” I whisper.
His shoulders ease a fraction. “Good girl.”
My thighs clench traitorously.This is not the time, you hussy.
Caleb opens the rear door. The interior is dark leather, neat, and faintly smelling of gun oil and something like clean laundry. The windows are tinted so dark that I can barely see out.
“You lock the doors,” he says as I climb in. “You don’t open them for anyone but us. Not hotel security, not cops, not God if he shows up. Got it?”
“Noted,” I say, my voice only shaking a little.
Ethan leans in, one hand braced on the doorframe. Up close, I can almost see the adrenaline humming under his skin, the tightness around his eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises.
“You better,” I whisper. “I need to yell at you for letting terrorists ruin our first date.”
Even now, his mouth quirks. “That’s my girl.”
He cups the side of my face and kisses me—quick, hard, all teeth and heat and promise. Then he pulls back, shuts the door, and I hear the solid thunk of heavy-duty locks engaging.
My world narrows to the dim cabin, the glow of the dashboard where the engine still idles, the distant echo of raised voices and slamming doors somewhere in the garage.
I curl my fingers into fists, press them against my knees, and force myself to breathe.
This is fine. They were soldiers. They’re well-trained. They know what they’re doing. These fuckers picked the wrong hotel, the wrong night, the wrong woman.
We’re going to be okay.
A shadow moves past the front of the SUV, and the hairs on my arms stand on end.
I sit up straighter, heart thudding faster than when Ethan was bringing my fantasy to life yesterday.
But Jesus on a bike… reality is a hell of a lot scarier than a simulation.
20
ETHAN
The door shuts on Barbara with a solid, armored thunk, and my pulse finally starts coming down.
