Lori Foster - Fast Burn

Un-fucking-believable.

And impressive. His Sahara had guts. Because he couldn’t resist, he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. “Don’t attack unless I tell you to.”

She nodded.

“I mean it, Sahara.”

He saw her white teeth when she flashed him a smile. “I know.”

As the headlights grew brighter, he explained, “Once they go down the first flight of stairs, you’re going over my shoulder and I’m running out of here.”

“Nope. I can run.”

“Your heels will make too much noise and you could shred your feet if you try it barefoot.”

“Oh.” She gave it some thought. “Second time today I’ve been over a shoulder, and I have to tell you, I don’t like it.”

Someone else had dared to? No, he’d have to think about that later or he’d be destroying someone for daring to touch her.

Suddenly Miles spoke through the earpiece. “This has all been enlightening, but don’t forget I’m here, okay?”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE INTRUSION OF his friend’s voice took Brand off guard.

Shit, he had forgotten—but no way in hell would he admit it. “It’s under control.”

Sahara glanced at him. “What?”

“I’m talking to Miles. He’s been with us the whole time.”

She gasped, then hissed low, “He heard you threaten me?”

Brand found her hand—clenching the bra-covered handle of her weapon—and gave it a squeeze, his way of requesting her patience.

Miles cleared his throat. “You’ll be able to get out?”

One way or another. “Probably.”

“I’m nearby,” he said. “If I hear anything I don’t like, I’m coming in.”

“Leese?”

“He and Justice are on their way back.”

Brand felt compelled to remind Miles. “Sahara doesn’t want police involved, so unless you know there’s no other way—”

“Got it.”

Sahara said, “Thank you.”

He gave her one more squeeze, then told Miles, “They’re here. Not a word, okay?”

“Understood.”

The driver backed the van in, and even the red taillights were bright enough to give them away.

Brand pressed farther away, taking Sahara with him. He didn’t know how she managed it, but she didn’t make a sound and she didn’t topple off those heels.

Conversation preceded the men from the van, and they sounded very disgruntled.

“It’s a hell of a trip to make twice.”

“When you’re running things,” the biggest of the men said, “you can fuck it up all you want, but I don’t like to take chances. Now we know that we’ll only be able to leave one guard here with her because everyone else will be needed to cover all the entrances.”

“We’ll have to turn right back around to get there by midnight and get set up,” another mentioned.

“You had something better to do?” The big guy, still wearing a mask, left the van with a box in hand. The open door kicked on the interior light, and Brand saw that it was a cardboard carrier for a bag of takeout and two colas.

Unfortunately, the men still wore their disguises, the fanatical pricks.

“I have better things to do than cater to her,” the friend grumbled. “That’s for sure.”

“She’s only had a sandwich. Feeding her won’t hurt anything.” He slammed the door.

So the head honcho was disgruntled, was he?

“You’re too soft on her.”

That muttered complaint must have pushed him too far. Holding the food box in one hand, he used the other to slam his cohort up against the side panel. “When,” he growled, “did I ever say we’d abuse her?”

“You didn’t, but—”

“She’s a means to an end, a way to get what we’re owed.” Clenching a fist in the complainer’s shirt, he jerked him forward, then slammed him back again, pinning his forearm across the other man’s throat. “That’s all she is. Now you can either get on board, or get the fuck out. What’s it to be?”

“He sure as hell isn’t leaving,” another man said. “We’re either in this together, or we’re all out.”

The one being strangled under the muscular arm rasped, “I’m in. Jesus. Let up.”

Seconds ticked by, three, four—and finally the boss shoved away. He flipped on a flashlight and stalked off, the beam bouncing ahead of him.

The remaining two men, the one who’d fucked up and the one who insisted he stay in, stared at each other.

“He’s soft on her,” the half-strangled dude insisted.

“Maybe, but one thing’s for sure, you better keep your fucking mouth shut because either way, he’s touchy when it comes to her.” He loosened the mask to scratch at his neck, then turned to leave.

His friend followed.

A million thoughts went through Brand’s mind, especially the supposed “softness” the head honcho felt for Sahara, but Brand knew they’d only have seconds to go so he shoved them all aside for now. He had to time it perfectly so that they weren’t close enough to hear him running out, but hadn’t yet reached the downed men to know they’d lost their bait.

He could practically feel Sahara’s trepidation. “Stand, slowly,” he whispered. He held her arm and helped her to do that. Then he took that freakishly wicked weapon from her.

Getting accidentally stabbed was not on the agenda.

“You’ll get it back when we’re clear,” he breathed into her ear, then, “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He tucked a shoulder against her middle and silently lifted her, his arm around her thighs to help balance her. Lifting the binoculars, he checked the path he’d take. Night-vision goggles would have been nice, but they weren’t available in the Body Armor inventory.

Later, he’d talk to Sahara about that.

He let the binoculars drop back to his chest and eased out from behind the crates. “Once we hit the street, I’m going fast.”

In answer, she grounded herself by clenching her hands in the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t worry about me. Just get us out of here.”

Brand strode silently toward the opening. A moonlit night would have been welcome, but the scent of the storm still hung thick in the air. His feet had just cleared the garage when he heard the chaos behind him.

Needing no more incentive than that, he ran flat out, first up the street, then into an alley so that he cut through to another street, then into an empty building, across the floor and back out to another alley. He paused, listening, but the sounds were distant now.

“Put me down, please.”

He did, letting her slide the length of his body, his hands going from her warm thighs to her shapely ass, to her small waist. He told himself he wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

His dick told him he was a liar. “You okay?”

“I think you broke a rib, but otherwise I’m fine.”

Brand coasted a hand back up her body until he found her throat. He curved his hand there, using his thumb to tip up her face. “Did I really hurt you?”

“No.” Her hand covered his. She stepped closer. “May I have my shiv back now?”

Insane, but Brand smiled. Crazy, unpredictable, cool as a cucumber Sahara. “Do you actually know how to use it?”

“Stab,” she whispered, “and twist.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, that’d work.” He gave it to her, then said, “Stay right here. I’ll only be a second.”

“It’s dark and I hear rats.”

So there was something she feared? “They won’t bother you.”

“I’ll skewer them if they do, but hustle up.”

Tunneling his fingers into her hair as a guide, he bent and took her mouth in a firm, quick kiss.

Before he did anything else stupid, he edged toward the front of the building. Holding very still, he listened, but didn’t hear anything.

Miles said into his ear, “The van just sped away.”