Page 29 of Bonking the Billionaire

Refusing to look back, I hurried toward the exit. I kept my shoulders square and my demeanor stoic. If the assassin alerted anyone to my escape, I was screwed. I’d end up strapped to a bed and at her mercy. I refused to let that happen.

I reached the emergency entry lobby. A few more strides and I would be free.

“You need a wheelchair, huh?” a man in scrubs said to the assassin, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Lying in an emergency room is despicable.”

“My stomach’s feeling so much better.” She laughed a nervous, chastened chuckle. “Thanks anyway.”

She ran past me, away from the man who confronted her, and out the door.

The man shook his head and said under his breath, “The weirdos always come out at night.”

What was the assassin’s play? Escape before I alerted security about her? Did she not know I had as much to lose by speaking to someone as she did—if not more?Something about all of this felt off.

My vision swirled. I paused, feet from the exit, and tried to think. My brain pulsed, attempting coherent analysis through a cloudy fog.

What kind of assassin drew so much attention to herself while entering and exiting a building? The kind who waited for me in the darkness.

“Sir?” the man behind the desk asked. “It looks like you may be headed in the wrong direction. Do you need some help?”

“No.”

I stepped outside. Warm, fresh air assaulted my lungs—the mingled scents of industry and greenery, trees and cars. Lights lined the otherwise dark parking lot. I scanned the area for movement, for any sign of the assassin. A prickle on the back of my neck—I turned on my heel, and found the woman I was looking for, sneaking up behind me.

She had her hand outstretched, but I grabbed her first and thrust her around the corner from the door, up against the brick wall. No lights reached us. No one was here to save either of us from each other.

I gripped her wrists above her head and leaned closer to make out her expression through the shadows.

Her skin was warm, her pulse fluttering. Her breaths came quick and shallow.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think she was afraid.

I asked, “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“What doIwant from you?”She let out a small breath in mock nervousness. “You’re the one pinning me to a wall.”

Washer nervousness false?There was no weapon in her hands, and she’d been close to me twice, without having made a move to harm me. Perhaps I’d misread the situation and her intentions.

“You’re following me,” I said.

“About that…” She licked her lips, and dropped her gaze. “You see…I’m um….”

“You admit it.”

“I do. But this whole thing is a misunderstanding.”

She wriggled, brushing her hips against my thigh. The faint ringing in my head grew sharper. I closed my eyes and tried to think, tried to ignore the pleasant feel of her body on mine, tried to remember any information that could help.

When I opened my eyes and took in the sight before me, my mind blanked.

From the neck of her loose and sleeveless shirt cut, the tops of her perfectly rounded breasts pressed out, rising and falling with every hastened breath. Her shirt bore the letters NCU. Was she a college student?

Refocusing, I said, “I’m misunderstanding your attempt at murdering me?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! You have to believe me.” Her voice sounded pleading again, nothing like I assumed an assassin would sound like. “That’s why I called out to warn you. The hammer slipped out of my grasp.”

She chewed her lip and stared up at me with those big bright eyes. Even in the shadows, they caught every ounce of moonlight and glowed the loveliest shade of golden brown I’d ever seen.

I loosened my grip on her wrist, unsure. If I didn’t know who I was, how could I be so determined to condemn her?

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