Except the second she darted around the mountain man, another guard stepped from the shadows and tackled her to the ground.
She screamed.
My heart jerked like it was being torn clear of my body. Before I could make a move, the first guard punched me right in the fucking jaw.
27
Sloane
I didn’t see the blur of movement to my right.
Not until it was tackling me to the ground.
My attacker was built like a linebacker, but I’d trained well for this exact scenario. Distantly, I was aware the other guard had clocked Abe, sending him down. Fury lanced through me, white-hot and vengeful. I’d taken these classes to defend myself—from the past, from my present, from anything terrifying that might be in my future. I’d only ever considered my own personal safety to be the goal.
Now, I barely registered the linebacker landing on top of me. If the other guard hurt Abe, I was going to rip him limb from limb.
The linebacker was still on top of me, wearing a smirk I didn’t fucking appreciate. With my arms outstretched, I was able to scramble in my purse for my pepper spray. I turned my head, squeezed my eyes shut and nailed him right in the face, holding my breath to keep from breathing it in.
When he rolled off me with a snarl, I punched him right in the dick.
My lungs expanded, grateful for air, making me dizzy. The linebacker was yelping as I started to stand, watching Abe executing a complicated-looking series of Krav Maga defenses in his suit, with hardly a hair out of place. His expression was dangerous, revealing the FBI agent who’d trained for twenty years for situations just like that. The guard made another big lunge for Abe, who ducked easily then kicked the man in the side of the knee and slammed his palm into his throat. The guard fell back, gasping for air. Abe was staring right at me.
“Hey,” I panted. “Are you o—”
“Sloane, look out,” he yelled.
The linebacker backhanded me across the face. The force of it smacked me to the ground like a high-speed train. Stars catapulted across my vision, a searing heat cracking across my face. Abe was sprinting toward me, and the guard was already standing over me, eyes streaming from the pepper spray.
So I kicked my leg straight up and caught him square in the groin again.
He collapsed.
“And… down he goes,” Abe said approvingly. He had me against his body in a second. He gripped my face with unbelievably tender fingers, examining the spot where I was hurt.
“It’s just a scratch,” I said, smiling a little. I touched the bruised skin around his jaw, and he winced slightly. The thought of Abe’s pain was unbearable.
“You?” I asked, struggling to keep my tone breezy.
“I’ve survived much worse, believe me,” he said.
The linebacker groaned, tried to sit up groggily. Abe punched him in the nose. Shook out his fingers with a quiet grunt. “Man’s got a face like a bank safe.”
The back door of the Midnight Apothecary opened, and Eudora and the bartender stepped out, spotting us. Eudora shrieked again.
Abe and I turned as one and raced toward the headlights on the other side of the park. I was wearing a short dress and high heels, and the twisting roots and trees kept trying to drag me down.
And my face fucking hurt.
A crashing behind us sounded a lot like the guards. Commotion, yelling, Eudora’s voice echoing through the night. A root caught around the tip of my boot, and I went crashing into the undergrowth.
“Shit,” I cursed, hitting hard and back on my feet a second later. Abe gripped my arm, turned behind him, then back at me.
“You won’t like this,” he said.
“What?” I gasped, bent over at the waist.
I was deposited on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “We’re close to the street, and I think this might be the fastest way,” he said apologetically.
I looked out, saw my linebacker muscling towards us with pure fury radiating from his brick-like shoulders.
“Run,” I said, too scared to think of my pride and the fact that I was having to be carried like the fainting maiden I wasn’t. But Abe was strong, his body moving through the woods and toward the street like a track and field star. We lost the guards, reached the road, and my arm was already waving in the air to hail a cab before my boots hit the concrete.
“You’re the only man I’ve ever let carry me,” I said, grinning when a black cab squealed up to us.
Abe passed a hand through his hair and opened the cab door like a gentleman. “Your chariot.”
With a smirk, I jumped inside and pulled him in after me. “Langham Hotel, please,” I said to the driver.
“And I feel it important to note I feel grateful you allowed that to happen,” Abe said. “I promise it was more out of concern for you breaking your ankle than a belief that you can’t handle your own. We only have to ask Goon #2 how his face and groin are doing.”
I huffed out a short laugh, let my head fall back against the car seat. Gazed at Abe, who bore a similarly surprised expression. “So I think our cover’s been blown, what do you think?”
He rubbed his mouth. “Yes, I believe you may be right.” Reaching forward, he plucked a small twig from my hair, a leaf from behind my ear. I tugged at the knot around his tie, centering it.
Beneath the adrenaline and the sharp bite of fear, my body remembered what we’d been doing right before this evening had taken a more dangerous turn. I had not an ounce of shame about what I’d been prepared to do to Abe in that bar—couldn’t find an iota of regret for wanting to fuck him on the couch. It would have been all too easy to free his hard cock, shove my underwear to the side, and ride him until pleasure overtook us both.
In the cab, he cupped my face with both hands again, long fingers sliding against my scalp. I leaned my cheek against his palm for one final second. Being touched by this man just felt so good. I was literally helpless to resist him. And I wasn’t a woman who was generally helpless.
He leaned in, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my forehead for a perfect few seconds. “I was terrified you had been hurt, Sloane,” he whispered. “I’m not used to the way it affects me.”
I basked in this display of raw, human tenderness. My body seemed to crave this even more than our passionate make-out back at the bar. Words froze in my throat, refusing to be spoken aloud. I did wrap my arms around his neck and held on tight, giving Abe Royal a long hug. After a full minute, I pressed my lips to his cheek, once, twice, three times. His fingers flexed along my spine, keeping me close.
This chemical attraction between us had almost cost us catching Eudora in the act of meeting Peter Markham. And it had definitely contributed to every single misstep right after, including being surprised by the guards. Our devastation was leading to dangerous distraction. So with monumental effort, and labored movements, I eventually untangled myself and reached into my purse, revealing the real reason why I’d tossed my drink in Eudora’s face.
“Sticky fingers strike again,” I said, holding out the piece of paper in the gold wash of streetlights filtering in through the windows.
“What is that?” Abe asked.
“It’s whatever note Eudora placed in her pocket from Peter,” I said. “We may have gotten a bit too distracted—”