“Briggs,” he breathed.
Harley moved to his side. “Do you know him?”
“Obviously not as well as I thought I did.”
Across the room, Caine snarled in pain. “Release me.”
Salvatore gritted his teeth, cursing his weakened state. His hold on the cur was hanging by a thread.
With the last of his strength, he focused on Caine.
“Not until you’ve offered me a quid pro quo. Get the keys and unlock this cell.”
“Rot in hell.”
“Don’t make me ask you again,” Salvatore gritted, but the power behind his words faltered, and with a low growl Caine lurched forward, breaking the invisible bonds that held him.
“Bastard,” the cur breathed, reaching behind his back to pull out a handgun he had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
Salvatore didn’t even try to regain command of the infuriated Caine. Instead, he instinctively turned to wrap Harley in his arms, driving her to the ground and covering her with his body.
Chapter Five
It happened so fast, it was little more than a blur to Harley.
One minute she was standing beside Salvatore, and the next she was flat on her back with the damned Were perched on top of her.
She flinched as the sound of a gun firing echoed painfully through the small room, the bullets flying harmlessly overhead, striking the cement wall and filling the air with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
The shooting came to a halt and Harley heard the slam of the door as Caine beat a hasty retreat.
They lay motionless; the rapid beat of their hearts the only sound to break the heavy silence.
Slowly the stench of gunpowder was replaced by Salvatore’s rich musk that seemed to seep into Harley’s skin, branding her with an awareness that was as unwelcomed as the realization of just how perfect his heavy body felt pressed so intimately against hers.
Damned Were.
He had to be doing some sort of mystical werewolf shit on her.
She refused to believe that his savage magnetism could be anything but a trick.
As if deliberately mocking her desperate theory, Salvatore shifted to settle his h*ps between her spread legs, his head lowering until his face was pressed against the curve of her neck and the raven hair fell about her like a curtain of warm satin.
A treacherous heat swirled through the pit of her stomach and Harley planted her hands against his chest.
A distraction.
That’s what she needed.
And pronto.
“Well, that worked out well,” she muttered, her heart slamming against her chest when his lips lightly touched the base of her throat.
“Could be worse,” he murmured.
“Get off me.”
“Why?” His lips continued to nibble, sending jolts of electric pleasure through her. “We’re obviously stuck in here for the time being. We might as well make the best of a bad situation.”