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The sound of a person being hit on the skull reverberates behind us. My head whips around, but Odin keeps hold of me. Ford stands with his gun dangling at his side, one of the men moaning on the ground. “Always make sure they’re knocked out before rescuing the damsel.”
“I was keeping one awake for you to question.”
“Ah, my mistake then,” Ford nods and bends down, pushing his weapon into the unconscious man’s head. When the man groans, Ford clips him across the forehead with the butt, knocking him out cold. “I’ll deal with this.”
“They could barely throw a punch. I don’t think they are with the Lombardos,” Odin says.
“I’ll find out.”
Noise reverberates down the alleyway, startling us both. Odin takes my hand and leads me toward the open street.
“Wait!” I yank on his hold. “The kitten.” I look back, trying to find its tiny form in the darkness. “There was a stray kitten, injured left eye, back there.” I point.
He turns to his friend, busy with the men we left behind. “Ford!”
“On it.”
We’re on the move again, both of our systems full of adrenaline. We round two corners and race down the street until we arrive at a luxury Mercedes with windows so dark it creates a seamless transition from glassto metal.
Odin opens the front passenger seat and ushers me inside. I pause on the edge of the seat when we hear footsteps echo at the top of the street. A pair of men slow their walk, watching us.
“We’re being watched.”
“When are we not?” I huff, sliding in and doing up my seatbelt.
Odin jumps in and starts the car. He pulls off the curb and hightails it down the narrow street, the engine purring with glee. We pass by the men, both of them watching our escape. In the rear-view mirror, I see them run off, heading for their car.
My hands tighten on the leather seat. How much more panic can my body endure?
“They won’t catch us,” Odin reassures me, pressing his foot on the pedal as we race out into the more populated traffic. He weaves the car with expert efficiency, but it doesn’t make me any calmer.
“Do you know where we are?” I ask, my voice betraying my worry. At this speed he could get us killed.
“Yes.” His confidence, his control, eases me only slightly.
“Then you can slow down. Huh?” He’s concentrating so hard that he doesn’t reply. His gaze is sharp and absolutely determined to get us to safety. “They didn’t follow us, remember?” I try again.
He hums and swings the steering wheel to the right, turning a corner so quickly he almost runs over some pedestrians.
“Odin!” I squeal as I bounce off the door. “Enough.” I grab his thigh, squeezing the dense muscle. He jolts, his gaze flicking quickly to mine. He keeps driving the car, keeps moving us away from the scene of the crime, but he lifts his foot slightly off the pedal.
And it’s then that I realize what I’m seeing. He’s locked in on one goal—getting me to safety—so focused that he’s not thinking straight. His expression isn’t enough to understand, but it’s there in his body. Thetension of his jaw, the white knuckle grip of his fingers, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Classic signs of some sort of internal struggle, a panic that’s acute and experienced. It clicks instantly in my mind, the reason why he is so obsessed with safety and danger.
Gen. His wife.
“She died. A long time ago.”
He never told me how. I never asked, either. I assume it was something tragic. I just never thought it would be something horrifying.
He’s scared for you.
It’s this sentiment that softens my heart, makes me start stroking his leg and speaking calmly to him. “I’m safe. We are safe. I’m not hurt.”
His hitched shoulders start to drop, the grip on the wheel loosens. “What you did was incredibly stupid,” he says, his voice cutting me deep with all the layers of anguish.
“I know.”
I grab his left hand from the steering wheel and place it on my naked thigh. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eye widening just a fraction. There’s a static energy in the air, an aura of arousal that started in Zambia and has only gotten worse. My stubbornness has dissipated into a steaming puddle of need that spells out his name.
