than three feet to the elevator, the doors roll open. Relief floods my veins,
cooling my hot, churning insides, but the feeling withers when long legs,
curves, and tumbling raven locks consume my vision.
are atomic, hot and fracturing into a million shards of emotion.
slices my gut like a blade. This woman keeps popping up at the most
With her long cornflower-blue dress and leather jacket, hands laden with
grocery bags, she is so out of place amidst the chaos.
want her gone with a blink of an eye. Guys with guns are breathing down my
back, and she’s now in the line of fire.
What if she isn’t in harm’s way but also here for me? There’s no evidence to
suggest she’s carrying out orders, but it would be a mistake to dismiss the
competing thoughts only make it harder to concentrate. I’ve got bigger problems
with Drago’s men gaining on me.
I dive for
the elevator, shielding her and we crash to the floor. I may not trust her, but
I won’t have her blood on my hands. And if she’s here for me too, then I’ll
deal with her.
me!” She pushes at my chest, oblivious to the danger.
I jump to
standing and press my finger on the close button. Two Russian behemoths run our
way, surprisingly fast for their size.
God!” Her eyes widen at the guns aimed at us. “Shut the door!”
fuck do you think I’m doing?”
threatens to snap at the pressure I have on the button, and I prepare to fight
if they get in the elevator.
The big guy
on the left pulls the trigger and the bullet hits the wall. Her scream pierces
the confined space and she wedges herself into the corner of the tin can.
Terrified eyes bore into me as if I’m shooting at her and the elevator doors
slide closed, separating us from the men.
I sink to
the floor and rest my head on the wall for a beat or two, struggling to gain
composure. It’s short-lived with the heat of her savage glare burning my
her back up the wall, using it for support. “What the hell is going on? Why are
they shooting at me?”
frenetic tone pinches at whatever is left of my patience, and I mash my lips
together to keep from losing it. I could have left her in the hall with those
assholes. They wouldn’t have thought twice about killing her.
lemons, avocados and bananas—litters the floor along with fresh meat, a box of
Oreos, and other groceries.
moment of peace, I close my eyes, licking my dry lips. It’s a mistake. She
lunges for me, feral and violent, shoving at my chest. Her eyes are glassy with
unshed tears, her long hair wild and cheeks flaming.
dammit!” She beats on me; her blows hurt, but not nearly as much as a bullet
would. “How the hell are we going to get out of here alive?”
S.M. West writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, erotica and whatever her heart
desires. She spends most of her time juggling a day job, being a mom, wife, and
writing. She's a self-professed junkie of many things, including a voracious
fan of music, a born wanderer, a wine aficionado and chocolate connoisseur.