Page 57 of Until the End

“And we climb over,” he said, easy-peasy as if she were a superhero with elastic limbs. “Sneak through the living room. I hold them off while you get to the elevator.”

Kit was stuck on the climb over part. She ventured a look at what he proposed, but her gaze fell to the pool four stories below. What if she slipped?

He was insane.

“It’s impossible.” Her nerves stretched tighter than a rubber band on the verge of snapping. “There’s no ledge for my feet.”

“If it weren’t possible, I wouldn’t have suggested it. Take a leap of faith and trust me. Our lives depend on it.” He cupped her face in his big hands.

Her jaw stopped trembling, not that she could say when it had started. The warmth from his palms was a comforting distraction.

“I do trust you.” The words left her mouth without thought.

“If only that were true.” There wasn’t as much anger this time, more disappointment in his eyes than anything else. A hurt she wanted to erase.

Yes, she had serious, deep-seated trust issues. All warranted. Just like every other man she’d been attracted to, Castle was using her for something. But looking at him right then, she didn’t see a henchman from a dangerous government war machine. She saw a tough, bold man who’d chosen to help her when he didn’t have to.

It was a paradox her mind had difficulty reconciling. Gah!

“Well, I trust you to get us out of here. Okay?”

Rolling his eyes, he grunted. “Come on.”

* * *

Castle’s blood pressure was so high he could hear the rush of it.

Kit was a liar. A habitual, no, pathological, no, no, compulsive liar! His gut churned with white-hot anger, but the sucker punch of betrayal was worse.

She was innocent of collusion with terrorists. That much he believed. But he could only buy stock in eighty percent of what came out of her mouth. And it wouldn’t be so bad if the remaining twenty percent wasn’t going to get them killed.

He sharpened his focus on the task at hand. They were going to get through this, alive, so he could strangle her later.

Castle held on to her waist as he guided her to swing one leg over the side, followed by the other. The breeze blew her dress up higher than appropriate and he caught an indecent glimpse of her ass. Sweeter than he’d imagined.

She stared up at him with those crazy-beautiful eyes, trying to suck him back in.

Damn it to hell, why did he enjoy touching her so much? Why had it taken every ounce of strength in him not to kiss her back earlier when she was shivering in his bed, pressed up against him, wearing nothing but his T-shirt?

Why did he still want to kiss her?

“Put your toes on the tiny lip,” he said, referring to the barely-there ledge, keeping his voice controlled, low.

“Tiny is an overstatement.” She struggled to get her footing stable, her thin-soled shoes slipping around with no treads, but he held onto her.

“I won’t let you fall, Kit.”

Her anxious gaze locked onto his and narrowed. “I know. You want the pleasure of killing me yourself.”

And why oh why did her sassy remarks not only torque him tighter and tighter but also turn him on brighter than a popped flare in the pitch-black night?

“You probably want to use your bare hands around my throat,” she said.

“So you’re a psychic liar. I was trying to pinpoint how to classify you, but I don’t think that one is listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders.”

“Whatev—” She swallowed the rest of the word, controlling her tongue before she pushed him from peeved to righteously pissed.

About time she advanced to Go and collected a clue.