Prime Target Page 4

  “Blyad,” I mutter. It doesn’t matter. None of this does. Once I’ve satisfied the powers that be by dating, I’ll move to another city, so Everly will remain safe and can’t be used as a pawn.

  Sharp claws scrape at my insides at the thought of never seeing her again, but I ignore the pain. It’s more important that she remain safe. That she remain alive.

  *

  Everly is standing outside when I park beside the curb. With her hair in a loose bun, she’s wearing a pair of ankle boots, black trousers, and a light blue sweater. The sweater and trousers cling to her curves, highlighting everything I lust after.

  Her eyes widen a little when she realizes I’m the one in the Porsche. I do find it amusing that she barely noticed the car when I pulled alongside her.

  Cutting the engine, I get out and walk to her. “You should have allowed me to colle—pick you up properly at your home.”

  She swings her purse from side to side. “It’s too nice of a day to wait inside.”

  I glance up at the heavy clouds. It’s been raining all day and only stopped twenty minutes ago. “Really?” I ask dryly.

  “Truly.” A drop of rain lands on her cheek, reminding me of a tear.

  Stepping closer, I gently wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

  She looks away, her beautiful profile all she’ll allow me to view. “I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Look at me.” I cup her chin and turn her to face me. “I gave you my word.”

  Her black lashes fall, hiding her pretty eyes from me. “So I’m an obligation to fulfill.”

  She doesn’t know how close to the truth she actually is, but for me, she will never be just an obligation. “Don’t take it that way. What I meant is that I’m a man of my word.”

  “Sometimes, your words hurt.” Her gaze meets mine, and I clench my teeth at the pain I see in hers. I caused it. Again.

  “I promise to be more careful with my words.” I can’t apologize, not for protecting her, not for wanting to keep her alive. Protecting Everly is like second nature. It’s like breathing, blinking…or my heart beating.

  “Thank you.” She smiles at me, tipping up her face.

  Automatically, I dip my head. Our mouths are inches apart, oxygen becoming shared. The scent of her fills my nose, my mouth, my lungs…my body. I let my hand curve around her head to the back of her neck, and draw her closer.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say roughly.

  “Okay,” she whispers. She grabs my free hand, twining her fingers in mine and tugging.

  “Tell me,” I say, one last time before I give in to the nearly uncontrollable need to taste her.

  Her dark gaze searches my face, lips plump and parting. Mine part in response. My body vibrates in anticipation. Every muscle is straining, even as I hold myself back. The only thing between us is millimeters and clothes.

  Bloody damn clothes.

  “Kiss me, Roman,” she orders, and I meet her the rest of the way.

  I capture her mouth with mine and she willingly surrenders, her grip tightening. Our fingers are bound together by more than just the physical. I can’t explain it, don’t want to question it, but I do know I will not let anything come between us.

  Taking my time, I explore her lush lips, kissing the corners and nibbling on the bottom one. It’s firm and plump. I lightly bite down, and she gives a little moan, enough to inflame my senses more than she already has over the past few months.

  I suck her lip inside my mouth, then let it pop out and fuse our mouths again. I can’t stop kissing her. I can’t stop reveling in the taste of the woman I’ve wanted for so long. She’s tart, sweet, and so damn desirable that I know I’ll explode if I don’t have her in my bed soon. I need to sink inside her sexy body and mark her as mine.

  Her tongue tangles with mine, and I growl. Growl. Like some fucking beast instead of a man. But what she does to me… She makes me forget my past. I can only focus on the present, on her in my arms, her body pressed against mine as the rain softly falls on the two of us.

  “Roman,” she murmurs, and I shush her, afraid she wants to stop, though she was the one who ordered me to kiss her. To be honest, I’m afraid that somehow she can taste my sins and violent deeds, and is disgusted.

  So, I let go of her hand and cup her face with both of my hands, aligning my head in such a way that allows me to take control. I kiss her deeply, fiercely…as if I’ll never have this chance again.

  Jesus.

  Her kisses are making me drunk, high…careless. Any one of my enemies could see us, and shoot me before I could draw my own gun.

  One last, lingering kiss and I break contact, step away, and try to get my body under control. It’s hard. I’m so fucking hard. I can barely walk, barely stand…barely function.

  I rub my fingers across my lips, not to wipe her away, but to remember. I want to rub in the taste of her, so that I never forget. So that when I die, the last memory I’ll have is of kissing Everly Andrews in the rain.

  Please God, don’t ever make it so I have to kill her.

  Chapter Five

  Everly stares at me, eyes all-knowing, like she’s reading my mind. Only that can’t be true, because she’s not calling the cops or running away.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.

  “Have you?” I murmur, and then want to stab myself. Why in God’s name would I ask that?

  “Um, yes.” She reaches behind her, grabs an umbrella by the stoop, and opens it. “I’m getting wet.”

  I can’t help but cock an eyebrow at her. “Just how wet are you?”

  Her sexy mouth forms a perfect O, before she glances away, obviously flustered. “Wet enough to need to change.”

  This is not helping at all. How in the hell am I supposed to calm down when she gives as good as she gets? Stalling for time, I become very fascinated with my cuff links as I mull over continuing with this line of flirting, or bringing things back to the way they were before we kissed.

  “But if we walk to dinner instead of riding in your very nice car, I should be dry by the time we get there. It’s mostly my sweater that’s wet,” she adds, and I jerk my head up.

  Everly’s gaze remains on something in the distance. Which means she’s embarrassed or she regrets what she said. Possibly both. Either way, it’s my job to put her at ease. “Your wet clothes won’t hurt my seats—they’re leather.”

  “Leather is too expensive to ruin.”

  “I wouldn’t buy a car I couldn’t use.”

  Her emerald gaze flashes to mine. “So, you regularly have women with wet clothes sitting on the passenger side?”

  I grin, then laugh, and her tight expression relaxes. “You win. We’ll walk.” I hold out my elbow and she takes it, while thrusting the umbrella higher in the air. I’d take it from her, but I need at least one hand free at all times.

  As we walk down the tree-lined sidewalk, I take in the neighborhood that Everly calls home. Bordering the downtown district, bungalow-style homes with postage-stamp-sized yards dominate the landscape. Perfect for young families and those of retirement age—in other words, completely foreign to me.

  I live in a high-rise apartment where no one speaks unless spoken to, but here people out and about nod at us when they pass. Most of the nods are accompanied with hellos and how-are-yous.

  Everly and I walk in silence, until I realize I have no idea where we’re going. I made reservations at the best restaurant in the city, but it’s in the opposite direction.

  “Did you have a specific place in mind for tonight?” I ask.

  She turns, her perfume washing over me once more. “I do. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Whatever the lady wants.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Sometimes, Roman, you are so hard to figure out. Well, make that all the time.”

  “How so?” I want to know what she’s figured out about me, or what she believes
she knows.

  She stops and looks at me, then gestures for us to sit under a covered bus stop bench. After she’s seated and has stowed the umbrella to one side, I join her, uneasy at the thought of my back being so vulnerable. Anyone can walk behind the structure, put two bullets in my head, and end me.

  “Like right now,” she points out. “You’ve gone all stiff. Your face is all tight, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were searching for an exit.”

  “Not being able to see who’s behind me is a bit disconcerting. It makes me nervous.” Not a lie.

  Her face softens, her hand coming to rest on my thigh. “Oh, you poor thing.” She shakes her head, lightly smacking herself in the forehead. “God, I’m so thoughtless. Of course you want to be able to see everything. Let’s go.”

  Immediately, she stands up, but I tug her back down. “I’m fine. Please continue.”

  “Okay.” She blows out a nervous breath. “Our kiss. You and I—it’s pretty obvious we have chemistry, but something about me bothers you. Like every time we get closer to becoming more, you back away. I don’t get it. I also don’t get why I keep coming back, ordering books that I could get cheaper and faster somewhere else.”

  “Everly,” I begin, but she continues.

  “Don’t say it. This date was a bad idea. The entire universe has been trying to tell me all day, but I wouldn’t listen. Our class for tonight was cancelled, because only three people signed up and a minimum of ten is required. Then I couldn’t get a reservation at The Fountain because they’re booked for months in advance, and then I was glad because I didn’t want you to think that I expected you to pay for our dinner. Originally, I asked you out, not the other way around, so I was going to pay. And then—”

  I press a finger to her lip. “I adore you.”

  She blinks at me. “What?” she asks from behind my finger.

  “Before you continue castigating yourself, let me do a little confessing of my own.” I take my hand from her tempting mouth. “That chair, the one you love to read in—I purchased it just for you. The jelly beans and hot chocolate—for you. I don’t have another customer who comes in each week and sits for hours, reading, eating, and drinking. I don’t have someone else who comes to my shop and genuinely enjoys my company.” With every word, I’m breaking off another piece of the wall of iron I’ve constructed around myself. I clench my hands into tight fists. “I wait to open your boxes until you come, so you’ll have to be there longer. If I thought it were possible, I’d have each book arrive on a separate day, just so you would have to come in more often.”

  Everly’s eyes widen when I stop my monologue. Her mouth falls opens, and then closes.

  Oh fuck me, I’ve ruined everything.

  “I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she sighs, her expression turning dreamy.

  Male satisfaction roars at the knowledge that I put that look on her face. Me, alone. God help us both when I see the look on her face while she comes by my hand, my mouth, and my dick.

  She loops her arm under mine and leans on me, head coming to rest on my shoulder. I smile a little. “By the way, what you said earlier about our kiss—I felt the exact same way.”

  Tilting her head back, she looks up at me, all trusting and vulnerable. “What do we do now?”

  Images of what I want to do to her flash behind my eyes. Every single one of them involves my dick in her pussy or mouth. Get to know her better first, you horny bastard, I berate myself. “Dinner.”

  Disappointment shines in her eyes, and then disappears as she smiles brightly at me. She stands up first, pulling at my arm. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  *

  She leads us to a restored Victorian-era home. A cursory glance at the name and menu displayed outside on the porch reveals that it’s an Italian restaurant. The hostess greets us like we’re long-lost family, and then leads us to a private table in the back.

  “For the lovers,” she says with a wink, making Everly blush a little. She hands us the menu before she walks away.

  “Come here often?” I ask, scooting my chair a bit closer to hers.

  Everly grins. “First time. My friend, Elle—she’s the director at the community center—recommended it. I can’t say no to pasta, and she knows it.”

  A waitress stops by, taking our drink and entrée orders.

  “How’s business?” I ask, feeling like a fool. I haven’t been on a proper date since…well, since… I inwardly frown. Have I ever been on a proper date?

  Everly laughs. “Roman, you can ask me other things, you know. I promise I won’t be offended.”

  “Very well.” I lean back in my chair, thankful that my seat is nearly flush to the wall. I can see everyone and everything. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

  “Read romance novels and bug a certain bookseller.” Her eyes twinkle.

  I shake my head. “You’re not a pest.”

  The waitress brings us our drinks and replenishes the breadsticks, then leaves us once more.

  “What do you like to do in your spare time?” Everly picks up her drink and takes a sip, gazing at me expectantly.

  Clean my Glock, research upcoming targets, and work out like a madman. However, I can’t share that, can I? “I read, work out, keep up to date on the latest research, and occasionally visit my family. What can I say—I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

  “Who drives a not-so-simple car,” she points out.

  “My one weakness.” Actually, she’s my weakness. The car is a toy, one that I can abandon at any time.

  “I probably looked pretty dumb when I offered to set up an online bookstore for you, huh?” She grabs a breadstick and breaks it in half. “Usually, people who drive Porsches and don’t worry about ruining leather seats have more money than they can shake a stick at.”

  “Why would I shake a stick at money?” I ask, unfamiliar with the phrase.

  “Ah…that wasn’t very nice of me,” she says, looking down at the table. “It means you have more money than you know what to do with.”

  “I do have a lot of money.” And I’ve earned every damn penny of it. “But I know what to do with it—investments, real estate, and taking care of my mother. The car is for entertainment.”

  “Taking care of your mother—of course you do,” she mutters. “And now I feel like that much more of a jerk.” She chomps down on the bread and tears off a piece.

  “You’re not a jerk.”

  She gives me this yeah, right look while she chews.

  “Okay, so you’re a compassionate jerk.” Everly sputters, bread flying all over the table and me. I flick the crumbs from my suit jacket. “First you insult me, and now you attack me with food. Honestly, I’m starting to get worried what will happen next. Perhaps you’ll accidentally spill your drink all over my head?” I grab the umbrella and open it, holding it like a shield. “You will not get the best of me.”

  Everly bursts out laughing. She keeps laughing until tears run down her cheeks and the tension dissipates.

  As the food runner delivers our entrées, he gives us a funny look, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Oh my gosh,” she finally says, twirling the pasta noodles around her fork. “That was the funniest thing ever. You should see yourself, holding that umbrella like a weapon. So ridiculous. I swear, Roman, any man who would take in an alley cat and put up with a woman hitting on him for months without banning her from his shop isn’t capable of hurting a fly.”

  On one hand, I’m flattered she thinks so highly of me, but on the other… I quickly close the umbrella and tuck it behind her chair. Then I pick up the steak knife from the table. The feel of the blade is off slightly, but I don’t let that stop me from balancing it on the pad of my thumb.

  Child’s play.

  I flip the blade up in the air and catch it, twirling it in my fingers before setting it down again. Then I make my gaze meet Everly’s, hoping to impress her, just a li
ttle. I can take care of myself, which means I can take care of her.

  “I guess you don’t need self-defense classes either,” she says glumly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  Damn my pride to hell and back. I stand before she does, intent on helping her out of her chair, but she gives me another odd look, almost like she’s not expecting me to be there when she returns.

  Deliberately holding her gaze, I sit down. “Don’t be too long; we need to make a decision about dessert—once we’re done eating the main course.”

  She licks her lips, that odd look fading. That’s right, love. I’m not going anywhere, until you’re safe in bed—mine or yours. “I won’t be.”

  Out of habit, I scan the room, searching for signs of danger. Finding none, I scan the room again, then take a bite of bread and drum my fingers on my thigh.

  She returns a few moments later, gloss reapplied to her lips. Automatically, I stand and hold out her chair.

  “Thank you,” she says primly.

  We eat in silence. Normally, I would be comfortable with silence, but I know her silence comes from a place of hurt.

  “So, dessert. Here or somewhere else?”

  Everly traces a pattern on the table, a sure sign of nerves. She wants something from me, but she is afraid to ask. “I baked something for you today. I thought we could have dessert at my place, but you don’t have to. I won’t force you to continue to be in my company.”

  “You came to that conclusion while in the ladies’ room?” Clearly, she needs to be banned from going there ever again.

  She nods. “This date…it’s not going right. It’s like we’re forcing the conversation.”

  No, darling, I’m protecting you from the real me. From assassins who do a hell of a lot more than merely go bump in the night. “Do you have vodka?”

  “Vodka?”

  “Yes. All good conversations start with a shot of vodka.”

  “Not where I’m from. All good conversations start with ‘Y’all aren’t going to believe this’.”