Page 57 of Thief

“Good.” John pulled the gate key from Carlos’s left jacket pocket, stepped over to the corner and took Kat’s hand. “It’s okay now,” he said, pulling her towards the doorway. “I’m here. He won’t hurt you again.”

John wanted out of there fast. It hadn’t gone according to plan. Having a gun at Kat’s head was worst case scenario, and later on, when he was alone in the dark, he’d replay the sight of her with a gun rammed at the back of her head and Carlos looming over her with his fat, grotesque body preparing to hammer into her soft little sweet one.

Round and round in his mind, like a reel of film, it would go on forever. John would feel the terror and the sickness all over again. Want to kill Carlos all over again for putting his perverted hands on her.

But there was no time for those thoughts now. Emotions had to go on hold. It was how he’d been trained. He had to concentrate on the mission—132 Priestly Ave. He needed to get there fast. He had the information he’d been hungering for all week, and now, he wanted to act on it.

They walked back through the brightly lit garage, not bothering to keep a low profile. Carlos’s young mechanic was still underneath the Mercedes, his scruffy trainers twitching to loud rapping music. He’d been oblivious to the drama in his boss’s office. Hadn’t heard or seen a thing.

Reaching the motorbike, John picked up Kat’s helmet and passed it to her. Her hands shook as she took it and he paused to examine her face.

Even in the dim light, he could see she was still ridiculously pale, and her eyes were still wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights. Her pretty, full mouth was set in a straight line and devoid of expression.

“Hey,” he said softly and took a step closer. “Carlos can’t hurt you now. I’ve sorted him.”

She looked up at his face but didn’t change her vacant expression. John wondered if she was in shock. She always acted like such a little hard nut, pretended to handle anything. But he knew she wasn’t really tough. Not deep down. She’d shown him over the last few days that at her core she was a lost little girl, alone in the world and fighting for survival.

He cupped her jaw with both hands and looked into her eyes. “Relax, Pussy Cat. I’m here to look after you.” He searched her face to make sure she was registering what he was saying. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Then he added with a half smile, “But don’t go running off like that again. Just because you can get your slinky body through small gaps doesn’t mean you have to.”

* * * *

Kat stared up at him. She believed John would look after her. After all, he’d just rescued her from a hideous attack and quite possibly saved her life. But what she couldn’t stop thinking about was how she’d nearly gottenhimkilled. Because of her foolish stunt, Carlos had swung the gun from her head to John’s chest. She’d truly believed at any second John would be shot. His chest blown apart and lung tissue spread across the office wall.

“He was about to kill you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, he was. But he didn’t. So don’t think about it anymore. It’s over with Carlos. Forever, you hear me? Forever. You’ll never see him again.”

Kat nodded. He was right. She could never go back to working for Carlos now. Their business arrangement was over. That thought was a huge relief. The end of her lucrative, yet questionable career had finally arrived. But it would be alright, especially with her share of the diamonds. They would keep her going for years. She pulled cool air deep into her chest and tried to fix her thoughts back together.

“You know something? John said, still holding her face in his hands and gazing at her intently.

“What?” She locked her eyes with his.

“When I said Carlos had something of mine, I wasn’t just talking about the car or the diamonds.”

Kat looked into his earnest face. What he’d just said had touched a nerve.

How does he keep doing that?

But she wasn’t complaining; she liked it. She liked being his, and it hadn’t been said in a jealous, possessive way, simply stated as a fact, like they were a team. Locked together and performing a secret task. Kat and John against the world.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

He coiled his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, delved his tongue into her mouth. She groaned at the maleness of his taste and the hardness of his body pressing into hers. It felt so good, so right, so perfect after Carlos’s disgusting gropes and soft, fleshy stomach.

He pulled back a fraction. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You know, physically? Did the sick son of a bitch hurt you? I got there in time, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did, and no, he didn’t hurt me. I just feel a bit shaky.”

“Sit,” he said, glancing around. “There.” He pointed through the darkness at a low wall in the shadows behind the skip. He steered her over, taking the helmet from her hands.

Kat sat, thankful to relieve her legs of the job of standing upright.

“Let me see.” John stood above her and undid the zip of her jacket.

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