Page 100 of Allure

“I’m wearing two pairs of socks,” he jokes.

“Good.” I hold out my arms and turn around for him like a model. “Super obvious?”

“No, actually,” he says, sounding surprised. “Good job.”

I roll my shoulders back. “It’s heavy.”

“Nah. Not really. It’s just bulky. Weighs maybe five to six pounds.”

I glare at him.

“Maybe it’s because you’re tired from class,” he offers. “I thought you would take it easy on the bag, but you seemed to have a personal vendetta against it.”

I don't mention that the few thoughts that came to mind when I was attacking the bag were related to him and Julie, specifically how much I hated the idea of him with Julie. I mean, she seems so very nice, and I probably would like her under different circumstances.

Honestly, that makes things worse, not better.

“I’m good to go,” I announce, wishing my heart would stop racing. “You?”

He nods. “You leave first.”

I do, exiting the dojo and heading straight for Dawn’s car. I parked a little farther away than I normally do, and the lot is fairly empty. Good.

Before I reach the car, I pretend to be on the phone, delaying my departure. Declan leaves and waves to me, and after I wave to him, he drives away.

I hang up and climb into the car, purposely turning over the engine but not letting the car start. I do that twice more and then climb out of the car, lifting the hood, cursing loudly, not daring to look around to see if there’s a truck in the lot.

For show, I grab my phone and put on a show that it’s not working.

“Dead? Are you fucking kidding me?” I call out loudly, discreetly turning off my phone so no one can text or call me and ruin the illusion. “First the battery and now my phone. Can this night get any worse?”

A car door slams. I glance around. It’s a car, not a truck. The driver doesn’t look at me, though, heading for a restaurant in the strip mall.

I make a show of trying to deal with the engine, wasting time, wondering how long I should linger. The guy comes out with his order and drives off.

And then I hear another car door.

This time, I don’t look over, leaning even farther into beneath the hood.

Footsteps sound.

“Hey, buddy, do you have jumper cables?” I ask, coming back out and looking at the guy.

Into familiar green eyes.

His gun aimed at my stomach as it had been before.

The baseball cap is tilted a little higher on his face than it had been the other night.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This is what I wanted.

I try to recall the few techniques Declan taught me for gun defense in case he can’t get here in time. There’s no signal for me to give him. He just needs to come on over.

He hadn't been able to get handcuffs. I hadn't even thought about that, but he had. I almost wonder why Declan doesn't have a pair for the bedroom. Hell, why don't I?

“Where’s ya purse?” he demands.

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