The guy he’d taken down when he first came into the room—that guy tried to play hero again. He tackled Saxon, sending them both to the floor. Only Saxon was stronger in that little fight, and a fast slam had the guy’s head hitting the rough cement that served as the floor, and the guy didn’t bounce back to his feet.
Kurt rushed out the door. The coward had let his men fight while he ran. Now Kurt probably thought he’d get more backup from the others in The Blade. And if the guy brought more folks in there, Saxon would have to keep fighting. “I don’t have time for this shit,” Saxon muttered.
He pulled his knife from the sheath around his left ankle. Then he headed toward the blonde. He hadn’t thought it would be possible for her eyes to get any bigger, but they were huge right then.
“Please, don’t…there has to be a mistake! I—ahh!”
The knife sliced through her ropes and her scream cut off.
He hauled her up and onto her feet. “Here’s how this is going down, sweetheart.”
She was staring at him in shock. Right, like women hadn’t done that before. But then she gave a hard shake of her head. “I’m…Elizabeth. Elizabeth Ward. I need—”
He waved that away. They could talk about needs later. Right now, it was ass-hauling time. “We’re going out the back. You’re not going to scream. You’re not going to fight me. Because if you do either of those things, you’ll be dead.”
Her lips were full, plump, and currently trembling. “Y-you’ll kill me?”
He grabbed her arm and ran for the back door. “Have you realized it yet? I’m your hero. The only guy who can keep you alive.” He shoved open that door, and they ran into the back alley. It was pitch black out there because it was a cloudy night and they had no stars or moonlight to spill down on them.
Voices shouted behind him. Uh, oh. He glanced back. Kurt had come with his reinforcements. “Should have given me my hour,” Saxon called out to the prick. “So now…I’ll just take more.”
He kept his grip tight on her and hauled ass. Lucky for them both, he had excellent night vision—and a motorcycle that wasn’t too far away. He jumped on his bike, shoved the helmet at her, and had that engine growling to sweet life in seconds.
“Get on,” he ordered her.
She hesitated.
Kurt shouted, “Bitch, I will kill—”
She got on the motorcycle.
Saxon’s hands flexed around the handlebars. “Hold on. Tight.”
Her fingers tentatively curled around him.
“Tight,” he snapped. What the hell? Did she think they were about to go for a Sunday drive?
Gunfire blasted at them. He ducked, and those bastards were lucky because their bullets missed his bike. If they’d hit his ride, he would have gone back and kicked their asses—mission orders or no orders.
He revved the engine then turned around—and headed right for his pursuers.
Kurt was shouting orders. The others were trying to make a human wall in that alley, sealing Saxon and his blonde inside. So he just went straight for the wall of bodies. If the guys didn’t get out of his way, he’d go right over them—no, right through them.
More gunfire blasted. The bullet came so close to Saxon’s arm that he could almost feel the burn on his skin. I’m lucky they don’t have better aim. Then the fools were scrambling out of his way even as the blonde behind him held on with a tight, death grip.
They raced into the night. And he didn’t look back, not even once.
***
Elizabeth Ward held onto the man before her for dear life. He was riding that giant beast of a motorcycle way too fast. The wind whipped around her, her thighs vibrated from the powerful engine, and her hands—her hands were locked around the guy who’d been called Saxon.
Hero, my ass. She’d seen the way the guy looked at her. She knew what he planned to do. Kurt had been intent on Elizabeth’s torture and death. This guy—big, blond, and scary as all hell—had other plans.
He wanted her. There had been no mistaking the flare of lust in his eyes, and if she didn’t get away from him soon, Elizabeth was afraid she’d be facing a whole new nightmare.
He turned off the road. They’d zigged and zagged all over Miami, and she had no clue where they were right then. Wait, no, check that—they were in another alley. Near another rundown building. Lost.
Only, this time, he actually stopped the bike. He threw down the kickstand and killed the engine.
“I think we ditched them.” Because Kurt and his jerk battalion had tried to follow them. Only Kurt hadn’t been able to keep up with the motorcycle, not when it cut so easily through the city.
Unlike Elizabeth, Mr. Big, Scary, and Dangerous wasn’t wearing a helmet. Probably because the guy had a death wish. Probably because—
“You can let go now.” His voice was the deepest, darkest rumble she’d ever heard, and it actually took a few seconds for his words to sink in.
When they did, she was horrified. Her hands flew away from him and she shot off that motorcycle. A bad move, really, because her thighs were still shaking from the ride, and Elizabeth hit the ground.
Smooth move.
She pushed up fast, though, and staggered to her feet. Elizabeth tossed away her helmet and ran.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get far. A big, strong hand caught her shoulder and spun her around. In the next breath, her back was being pushed into the nearby brick wall, and Saxon had her hands pinned above her head. He held her easily, her wrists trapped in one of his hands.
“Didn’t we cover this?” he muttered, and his voice, if possible, had gone even deeper. “No screaming, no running—”
“No fighting,” she whispered back to him. “You said no…fighting. You never said I couldn’t run.”
He laughed then. A sound that was as deep as his voice and sent shivers racing over her body.
A man wasn’t supposed to laugh when a woman was terrified. She knew nothing about the guy except for the fact that she’d seen him shoot two men and beat the crap out of at least two more. And he’d said he…wanted her.
For an hour.
“Please, let me go.” Elizabeth wasn’t above begging, not then. She just wanted to survive that night. To get back to her apartment and pretend this whole terrible nightmare had never happened. “I won’t go to the police, I promise. I won’t tell them anything about you.”
His head came closer to hers. She couldn’t discern much about him in that moment, it was too dark, but she’d seen plenty in that terrible little room.
Saxon. He’d been huge, filling that doorway. He had to be at least six foot three, and his shoulders had been so wide, his arms heavy with muscles. He wore a faded t-shirt and loose jeans. He’d fought with a cold, vicious fury, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat when he’d taken down his enemies.
I thought Kurt was scary. He’s nothing compared to this guy.
“I don’t want to let you go.”
Those words terrified her. No, he terrified her. He leaned even closer. She could feel the light stir of his breath against her cheek. She had a flash of being tied in that chair and looking up—and into a pair of dark and deadly eyes.
And I asked him for help? A desperate woman would do anything. And she was desperate right then.
So…Elizabeth didn’t fight his hold. She relaxed her body. If he wants me…Her mouth skimmed over his jaw. A light, soft kiss. Hesitant. She felt the rough edge of his stubble against her. She also felt his body tense.
“What are you doing?” Saxon demanded. There was no accent to his voice. Just flat, hard darkness.
She kissed his jaw again, and forced herself to whisper, “You wanted an hour, right?” Oh, dear God, had she just said that? But being with him, right then, was still better than being held back in that little room at The Blade, with a gun against her head.
How did this happen? I was walking home, and those men just grabbed me. I kept trying to tell them they had the wrong woman—no one would listen! No one would help me!
“I’ll give you an hour,” Elizabeth promised him. She rose onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “If you…if you let me go.”
His body stiffened even more against her, as if he were locking his muscles.