Bulletproof - Xavier Neal Page 0,29
just so happens to sync to Cheyenne’s. She extends the keys my direction at the same time she announces, “It’s clean, but I’d take it for a tire rotation asap.”
Blake doesn’t hold back her need to investigate what it is she doesn’t know. “That’s code for vehicle swap or some shit, isn’t it?”
As soon as I have possession of the keys, Cheyenne flashes me a wide grin that’s followed by a small pat to the chest. “Good luck, Bradford.”
Yeah.
I’m gonna fucking need it.
We make our way down the nearby hall and into the garage, leaving Cheyenne to dispose of the tracking device she found earlier. About halfway across the vehicle-less space, I swiftly swing around so that my back is blocking her front, plant one hand on her hip, and use the other to cup her face. Having to ignore the beautiful gasp that’s grabbed is vexing enough; however, having to disregard the way she melts into my touch is pure fucking torture I’ve gotta figure out what I did to deserve.
This better not be about killing the dude with a pitchfork.
That shit can’t haunt my career forever.
Dropping my forehead against hers, to further give off the impression we’re having an intimate moment, receives an unexpected whimper and causes her chest to begin to heave. I want to enjoy the sensual encounter. Feather those full lips and whisper against them. Grab a fistful of her dark hair and steal the tiniest taste of her always antsy tongue. I want to back her into the work bench that’s against the wall to the left, tie her up using the soft tape measure, and give her a real reason to be shaking this hard.
But I can’t.
And because of who she is, I never can.
Fuck, I hate my job.
“We’ve got four unidentified threats that I can see circling the area.”
“How did you-”
“Do exactly what I say next. Put a hand on top of mine to indicate you understand.”
Hers plops down on top of it.
“You’re going to slip the keys out of the hand that’s on your waist, take two large steps backward, and hit the panic button. Get inside to Cheyenne the instant the alarm is sounding. I’m gonna slightly retreat back to make better eye contact. Blink twice once you’ve secured the object.”
Leaning away so that our foreheads are no longer connected, I’m relieved when I don’t see a stitch of fear in her bright brown gaze.
And here I made the mistake of thinking she couldn’t get any sexier.
Two bats of her long, beautiful eyelashes are swiftly followed by her completing the remaining instructions.
The sudden shrill sound startles the attacker closest to the vehicle. Their forced exposure prompts them to rush attack rather than wait in the wings like their counterparts. The masked individual sprints full force at me but being aware of the need to keep the takedown quiet is what leads me to throw the bag directly at their face. A manly grunt is expelled upon impact as well as when my foot crashes into the side of his calf, crippling him forward. In a swift, spin movement, his frame momentarily becomes my shield against potential shots and the sheathed Karambit knife clipped to his side mine for the taking. The curved blade is effortlessly freed and dragged from ear to ear, severing any chance of making it out of the situation alive. Blood seeps down my fingers and his shirt; however, what would be a distraction for many doesn’t even register something worth acknowledgment to me. His lifeless figure flops to the floor allowing an exchange of the slick blade for the unused dart rifle to be made.
An assailant to the left creeps forward, accidentally triggering a light motion sensor cleverly hidden. Now, completely on display, along with being momentarily blinded, they too are an easy target to eliminate. I fire one shot at their thigh under the impression that like the man twitching at my feet they’re wearing a protective vest of some sort. Mannish grumbles spread throughout the space while he continues to drag his newly drugged body in Blake’s direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot her shapely form sprinting for the door like instructed, yet it swiftly stops with just enough time to miss the dart that’s fired from a different intruder. The projectile lands where her hand should’ve and seeing her that close to danger ramps up the aggression of my movements. From a brief once-over, it’s easy to conclude that