Page 14 of Craving Sin

“About two or three minutes? What do you want? Because if you don’t plan to rob me, maybe you’ll let me go home. It’s been a long night.”

I nearly have to bite down on the inside of my cheeks not to smile, which then makes me frown instead. What is it about this man that’s so intriguing? “I thought you wanted to know why I’m following you?” I don’t know why I’m standing here entertaining him, but then, I don’t know why I’ve done any of the things I’ve done tonight, so it’s par for the course.

“Are you going to tell me? And my arms are getting tired. Either kill me, rob me, or let me go home.”

I watch him then, as he lowers his arms. I wouldn’t allow this from anyone else, but then, I hadn’t planned on holding the surgeon at gunpoint tonight, either. He takes a step back, then another, and another. I allow that too, just watching him watch me, trying to figure out what I expect to happen, what I want to happen. Did I think my neck would tingle and suddenly I’d have some sort of answer?

Just as he’s about to reach for the door handle of the SUV that I’m assuming is his, a sharp squeal of tires pierces the morning. My gaze darts up just in time to see a car come barreling toward me. I dive between the surgeon’s vehicle and another, tackling him to the ground beneath me.

“Come on!” I pull him, both of us scrambling to get behind the SUV just as gunshots ring out.

“Holy shit. Who the fuck is that?” he asks, voice panicked.

“Shh.” I hold my finger to my lips. He’s shaking, pupils blown wide, the blue of his irises practically disappearing, as the car idles in front of his vehicle.

He pulls out his phone, trying to get his hands to cooperate so he can dial, but I rip it from him. “What are you doing?” he mouths.

I roll my eyes as if that should be obvious. Do I look like the kind of guy who calls the cops?

Before he can question me further, one of the would-be assassins asks, “That’s him, but who the hell is the other guy?”

“I don’t know. Go fucking check on them,” another guy replies, just before the door creaks open. These are definitely not seasoned professionals. Why the fuck would they come after me?

“Stay,” I mouth to the surgeon, crouching low as I move to sneak around his vehicle.

His shaking hand reaches out for my jacket, but I pull free, ignoring the fear in his gaze. We’re not the ones who will die tonight. The Bellini brothers have highly underestimated me if they think I’m this easy to take out.

CHAPTER FIVE

Abbott

What in the hell is going on with this day?

I watch as my stalker slinks away, gun in hand, taking my cell with him. This isn’t how I expected tonight to end. This isn’t how I’ve ever expected any night or maybe my actual life to end.

I could die here today. I could die, and what do I have to show for my life other than my career? What important connections have I made?

I’m stuck between a stalker and attempted murderers, not sure what the first wants, but clearly the second wants to kill him.

I should run. While they’re distracted, trying to kill each other, I should get the hell out of here.

Just as I move into position, ready to get lost among the sea of vehicles, I hear the pop, pop, pop of gunfire.

My first instinct is to curl up and cover my head. The shots are coming from behind the vehicle, a literal gunfight going on behind me.

I hear a curse, what I think is a body hitting the side of a vehicle, then another squeal of tires as the vehicle screeches away.

My body is frozen, heart punching heavily against my chest. I need to move, need to get up, need to get the hell out of here, but it’s not every day a guy holds a gun on you before other guys try to kill your stalker.

When I hear stumbling footsteps move toward me, I don’t have any choice but to prepare for whoever or whatever is about to happen. I sit up just as my stalker comes around the corner, leaning against my vehicle, gun in his right hand, but also pressing that right hand to his left shoulder. “Get up,” he orders. “We’re leaving.”

“Fuck you,” I say, but push to my feet, just as he points the gun at me.

“Come with me.”

“I’m not.” The gun is shoved under my chin, and bile rises in my throat, heart running so fast I’m sure I’m going to drop dead right here. I have no choice but to follow him.

I trail behind my stalker as he pulls on the passenger door handle. The damn thing opens, probably because my keys are in my pocket and I’m standing close. “Get in.”