Heston (In the Company of Snipers #25)

Chapter Twenty-Two

London couldn’t wait for Heston to undress, so she did it for him. Just unzipped his pants and stripped him out of his jeans while he tried to toe out of his boots without falling. His shirt went flying, then, jumping from one foot to the other, she fumbled out of her pants. He did the honors of peeling her panties off. At last, they were who they’d been before this whole mess started. Just Heston. Just London. Nothing in between.

Her heart pounded when his hooded gaze flashed over her nakedness with lust. Everywhere he looked, each time he licked his lips, flames ignited in her belly. This was what she’d wanted from him in that dark conference room. Them. Finally together in heat and passion. An answer to her marriage proposal would’ve been good, too.

His brow lifted, giving him a devil-may-care vibe. “Birth control?”

“Oh, yeah. Almost forgot,” she breathed, wishing she’d been as responsible as him. “Implant. Nexplanon.”

“How long ago?”

“Umm, four, no four and a half, maybe…” She had to think when she’d gotten the tiny implant. The tiny get-it-and-forget-it choice of birth control was only good for five years. “Damn. Nearly five years ago, Hes.”

“Should still be good. I get tested every year, and you already know I haven’t been with anyone else since… then.”

“But what if—?”

“We get pregnant?”

Oh, she loved the way he said ‘ We .’ Not just ‘ you .’

“Then we’ll have a blonde baby girl who’ll look just like you running around this place.”

“Or a gorgeous baby boy with big brown eyes and shiny black hair.”

That was all it took, him talking about making babies. Quivering with anticipation, London pounced, her slight weight pushing him against the wall, her fingers dancing over his body like a blind person’s fingertips fluttered over Braille. This was her way of remembering the rigid cords in his neck, the hard tension of his pecs when he flexed, the furrowed musculature of her man on her way down his stomach to—

Ah. There. That’s what I want.

He groaned. But once her nimble fingers curled around his cock, once she had a good firm hold, he was hers and she knew it. The big, beautiful length of him thickened in her hand while she feasted on his mouth. Kissing. Tasting. Licking his lips and biting his tongue—until he took charge, picked her up and stepped into the tub with her. By then every part of him was steel. London kept working him. Pumping. Sliding her curled fingers up. Gliding them back down. Licking her lips and wondering if—

“Woman, you keep doing that, and I’ll be done before we get started.” Leaning to one side, he flicked the faucet on, then adjusted the showerheads that ran the length of the tub, converting their bath into a misty rainforest pool.

“Would it be so bad?” she asked breathlessly, water running down her face and into her eyes. She’d done that to him. Made him weak. Made him needy. She’d never thought herself powerful before, but now she realized she was. The femininity within her body and soul had bent this man to her will. Made him tremble. Made him bossy. Made him want her enough to give her what she needed.

“As long as I’ve waited for you, yes, damn it. I’m barely holding on as it is. Now bend over and show me that gorgeous ass. Hands on the edge of the tub, babe. Look outside while I take care of business. Hang on.”

“Ooo, businessman, huh?” London wiggled her backside, teasing even as she spun around and her palms hit the window beside the tub. Not looking out. Not caring who might be looking in. Finally sure of what she’d wanted during her years of missing Heston.

He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands smoothing down the sides of her ribs to her hips. “Spread ’em, babe,” he ordered huskily, his fingertips dancing over her bare ass while his tongue slipped down her spine. Then lower. Lower…

Quick as a wink, she complied. He’d always loved looking at her, touching her secret places. Testing her limits, even play spanking her sometimes. The fever in her blood spiked at the possibility this might be one of those times.

“Farther,” he ordered, landing a gentle slap to her butt. “Wider.”

Like a hungry hooker in a back alley, she shifted her feet apart until she was nearly doing the splits. Her heart pounded a staccato salsa in her chest, knowing the view she was giving him. Her right foot pressed over the drain while the other argued with the slippery back of hammered copper over where the best footing was. The slippery slope won. Her foot ended up braced at the edge of the tub, giving Heston more to see and better access.

As if he agreed, he pressed both thumbs deep between her cheeks and spread her apart. London’s breath caught when his hot breath fell on that tender stretch of feverish skin. Her toes curled. Her body clenched in eager anticipation. The tantalizing scrub of his scruff over her tenderest flesh was enough to send her flying all by itself. She’d never had whisker burns there before. Part pain. Part pleasure. Ahhh.

Warm wet rain trickled into her hair and eyes. Into her panting mouth. Down her back. Over her bare backside and—there—where his tongue teased and demanded. Fire scorched everywhere his tongue touched. London’s libido sprang to life. She closed her eyes, lost in the paradise she’d nearly given away. Why? To prove what? That she was every bit as strong and as smart as a man? She no longer cared what the world of men wanted from her or thought of her. The only one she cared about was Heston. He mattered. No one else.

“Hang on,” he ordered, his fingernails digging into her flesh, reminding her who was boss. That he owned her. He’d better be careful. Between the heat of his breath and the scintillating drag of his whiskers against her slick skin, as well as the feral, needy mewls coming out of her throat, he might own her sooner than she expected. London was a hot, jumbled mess of hormones, fire, lust, and desire. Her blood was hot, so hot. She was already dancing on her toes, ready to come. Needing the building orgasm to explode and blow her world apart.

Without asking, his tongue speared into her core and… and…

Those lovely fairy lights twinkled brighter and faster. Or maybe it was her. Maybe she was the one twinkling. But when he lit that greedy string of det cord between his mouth and her core, she was a jittery breath away from coming all over him.

Thrusting her backside against his face, London growled. “Heston… Hes… Hes-s-s-s-s… M-more.”

He pinched her butt cheek and feasted where no man had feasted before. Adding his fingers to the mix, his voice turned growly deep. “Not yet,” he ordered. Him stroking the erogenous tripwire just inside her body vibrated her heartstrings. He knew how to pluck those intimate chords until she was wound tight. Tighter. Until…

“Ahh,” she ground out, her body pulsating under his skillful touch, tensed for the pleasure winding up from her toes.

“Hands flat against the window, babe.”

She hadn’t realized her fingers were in her hair or that she’d jutted her breasts forward as far as she had. “Please, Hes. Harder. I need this. So do you.”

“You ready?” he rasped, his voice moist and hot in her ear as he joined her in the tub and braced one foot against the drain.

Her foot slid out from under his, then against his, using him for support. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Hes, hurry, I’m… I’m…”

“Don’t you dare come. Get those hands back on the glass. Look at yourself in the window. You think someone’s outside watching? If they are, they can see every inch of your naked ass and how sexy you look. How beautiful your tits are. They’ll get to watch you come undone, babe. Trust me, you never looked hotter. Great tits. Best ass in the world. Look at you. Look at me!”

She couldn’t comply fast enough. Just spread her fingers wide apart on the steamy windowpane, as far as they could reach, until her wet skin squeaked against smooth, cool glass. One quick right-handed action wiped a circle of condensation from the glass. And—there she was. Her turquoise green eyes wanton and wide. Her lips swollen, wet, and red. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples diamond hard and taut. She’d become every bit a sultry, shameless siren from the depths of the wildest seas.

And there stood Heston, tall and broad behind her. His eyes were bright and eager. His hair had flopped into his eyes, and those pits of steamy black were so damned hot. Every bit of him screamed warrior. Protector. Mine!

“I s-s-see you,” she stuttered, her pulse pounding.

“I see you too, babe,” he growled, his fingertips dug into her hips, his thumbs pressed into the small of her back. “Every last piece of you. You’re so damned beautiful, and you’re mine. All mine.” He delivered that last declaration with a stinging smack to her ass.

Felt so, so good. Like a lovesick sex-kitten, she mewed, “It’s raining, Hes.”

A handsome smile covered his face. “You noticed? Good. Now count to ten like you used to.”

She nodded, keeping eye contact. With every tortured breath, her breasts heaved as if they wanted him looking at them. Just them. Naughty, naked girls.

“The rain’s running down your back and between your butt cheeks,” he told her, his gaze zeroed on her ass.

“I’m so wet. For you, Hes. Only ever for you.” He needed to know that.

“Fuck, yes, you’re dripping.” With that heady innuendo, Heston jacked forward and pushed that magnificent spike of his into her slippery folds. Not teasing. Not hinting. Just a wicked thrust that came with throbbing veins and power.

The impact forced a purr from her throat. Maybe even from her vagina.

“One,” she whispered as he withdrew with aching slowness. Missing the heat of him, she arched farther back to keep him in place. Wanting more of him. Daring him to shove that thick, hard weapon back into her greedy sheath where it belonged.

“You like this,” his deep baritone rumbled.

“I do.”

“Eyes on me, babe,” he ordered as he—oomph!—slammed in deep again.

A breathy, “Two,” sighed out of her. London blinked through the raindrops running over her face, then swiped the window clean again, needing to watch the fierce expressions on his face as she counted. His eyes had turned dark and hungry. He took sex seriously, like he was on a mission. His muscular, hair-roughened thighs bunched against her hamstrings. His thumbnails dug deeper. The muscles in his back coiled and—

“Three,” she wheezed, trying to hold back. Needing to come, but not without Heston.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, the stiff, crisp hairs on the sides of his knees abrading the insides of her thighs.

“Then hurry.”

He hurried. Oomph. “God, that feels so good.”

Another hearty slap stung her ass. “I mean… f-f-four!”

He pounded into her again.

“Five!”

Then a slippery quick, “Six!”

A smoking hot, “Seven!”

Her feverish body matched the brutal pace he set. She fell in love with the sounds of his muscles smacking against her flesh.

“You’d like a good spanking, wouldn’t you? You like it when I’m in charge.” He shoved in deeper, grinding into her.

She stared him down in the window. London was on her toes by then, braced for that quintessential more. “Yes, Heston. I love you like this. And a good spanking… Hmmm.” The naughty idea made her wiggle. “Yeah. I’d like that. With you.”

No sooner whispered, when a solid slap landed on her buttocks and, “Eight!” screamed out of her.

Without pulling all the way out, he slammed deeper and ordered, “Tell me again.”

“I’d love it. I love you. Anything you do is okay with me. Nine!”

Heston buried his forehead between her shoulder blades and rasped, “What comes next, baby girl? Tell me. Say what comes next or I’ll blister your ass.”

“M-m-me,” she squealed, pushing backward into his pelvis, needing him inside so badly that tears filled her eyes. She’d never been anyone else’s baby girl before. Hell, she’d never been anyone else’s anything. Had never been disciplined or spanked. No one in her life had ever loved her enough to draw a hard line.

But the thought of Heston bending her over his knee and delivering a no-kidding spanking sounded incredibly naughty. Her nipples were so hard, they ached. Her ass begged for another gentle smack—just because Heston would be the one delivering it.

“What number?” he snapped. Grunting like the powerful beast he was, Heston bucked one last, bone-grinding time and—

“Ten!” she snapped back at him. Just as he— Oh, God, oh, God— slammed home. Deeper in. Further. All the way. In so deep it burned. His pubic bone hit her pelvic cradle. The stimulation of those rough, coarse hairs nesting his cock was too much. She was almost there. Almost…

Until she slowed her breathing, wanting to last longer than Heston. The sight of his reflection in the window was too precious to miss, this memory a once-in-a-lifetime keeper. Through love-struck eyes, London watched their joined reflection. Heston lifted his handsome face to the rain, his eyes closed with the intensity of his release. His darker, masculine hands clenched her pale, white hips. She watched him bite his bottom lip, how he smiled as he ground his body against her.

London drew in a breath. There he was, her ardent, ferocious lover. Her man. Her dearest companion. Her best friend and the only man in the world she would ever love. The big, brave man who adored her in return. He was gloriously beautiful. Carved out of caramel granite. Perfection in every way. Drenched and dangerous. Vehemently in love with her. A beast undone. Her beast. Her utterly gorgeous, handsome beast.

London’s heart stuttered at the beauty framed in the window. Him behind her, his magnificent male body planted deep into her much smaller body. Protective—always. Strong and devoted—forever. She’d hurt him, yet here he was, worshipping her. Loving her. Forgiving her and giving his everything to her, his heart, his body, and his soul.

The sight of Heston finishing first, pushed London over the edge. He hadn’t done that in all their times together. Had to be the feminine power she held over him tonight. Greedy flames of pleasure burst through her body, scalding her at the same time with his seed and promise and—Heston.

London let go. She planted her soles on the bottom of the tub, arched backward, and let her head fall on his shoulder. His hands tightened into manacles on her hips. His thumbnails were tiny, biting cuffs, cutting crescents into the pillowy tops of her backside. She knew the truth now. He had always loved her. Always believed in her. He’d never let her fall.

The grandest orgasm ripped through her. Brilliantly hot, like a comet, its tail whipped sizzling aftershocks through her core, lighting up every nerve and tiny receptor, clenching every strand of muscle along its path. Laser bright starlight shot from her fingertips. All because he’d reached the pinnacle before her. There was no struggle or contest between them. He’d made her whole again, as he’d poured himself into her emptiness.

London let the truth pour into her. She was enough by herself, but she was a thousand times better with Heston.

Powerful aftershocks rippled through her body, then dissolved into wicked, steamy fragments. Sobs caught in her throat. It was hard to breathe. Hard to do anything but absorb the brilliant liquid golds, bright shiny silvers, red throbbing hearts, and sparkling white ribbons pouring down on her. This wasn’t rain. This was heaven. How did one human vessel hold so much heaven?

A fragment of scripture flashed in the dark like an answer to her question. No greater gift…

It caught her unprepared. Unaware. But it was true, wasn’t it? No man fought harder than a man for his woman, than a husband for his wife and child. Even when they’d been apart, Heston Contreras had never stopped fighting to keep her and her country safe. He would die for her, simply because that was who he was. He loved her. No greater gift, indeed. The greatest gift a man and woman could give the other. Living and dying for each other. For better or for worse...

“I think we’re already married, Hes,” she whimpered, out of breath and her legs weak, but her vision finally clear. “I think I just did it to us, married us. We did it together, I mean. Together.” She was babbling, and had no idea if what was in her heart could even be translated into words. Only knew that her place had always been at Heston’s side, and today, she’d been given another chance to love him.

He stood at her back, panting like a beast who’d just run—and won—the race of his life. His large body curled protectively over her smaller one. One muscled forearm rested against the sparkling windowpane, the other around her belly. Holding her steady, keeping her shaky legs from collapsing. “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” breathed out of her. “This has to be what heaven feels like. You and me. Where we are right now. Here. Just us and… and I… I love you so much. Never stopped, not even when I was angry with you. There hasn’t been anyone else. There never will be.”

Like the knight in shining armor Heston was and always would be, he lifted her still quivering body into his arms and climbed out of the tub. Tucking her wet head under his chin, he whispered, “I’ve always loved you, London. You’ve been it for me since that first day in Econ 101.”

She closed her eyes, not remembering Econ 101, only the handsome man who’d taken the seat next to her. “It stopped raining,”

“Because I turned the faucet off,” Heston explained as he tossed her a warm fluffy towel. Once they were dry enough, he carried her into his bedroom, tossed the blankets on his bed aside with one hand, and then laid her down.

London looked up at him, her body weak and limp, her bones fluid, and her heart full. There were no words.

He dropped to the floor at her side. “Now about that marriage proposal.”

She knew what he needed to hear. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you do it, I know it now. You’re the man. Your culture’s big on tradition, and it’s traditional for the man to—”

His index finger landed on her lips. “Shush, babe. Listen a second. Why do you think I’m kneeling?”

“Umm, because that’s the traditional pose for a guy who’s about to… propose? Which you should. I mean, if you want to. I mean—”

He tugged her hand to his mouth and pressed a warm, wet kiss in the center of her palm. “It’s also a damned good position for a man to tell the woman he adores that, yes, babe, I accept your proposal. I’ll marry you.” His eyebrows lifted as if he was waiting on her reaction.

She rocketed up onto her elbows. “Really, Hes? You don’t mind that I proposed?”

“You. Me. What’s the difference? As long as we’re together, I don’t think anything else matters. So where’s my ring?” There went those brows again.

Her jaw dropped. “I don’t have a ring. I didn’t think. Oh, no! I should’ve planned better, but—”

Leaning to one side, he pulled the nightstand drawer open and drawled, “This little thing’s been lying around a few years, but I think it’ll fit.” Turning back, Heston took her left hand and slid a brilliant, blue-topaz stone onto her ring finger. Enhanced by a string of white diamonds on the rose-gold band, the oval stone sparkled with fire.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” she squealed. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “How long have you had this? When did you get it? For me?” Her squeals turned into heartfelt sobs. “You’ve had this a long time, haven’t you? Even when we… Before I…” The word got stuck in her throat. She couldn’t say ‘left.’ Just. Could. Not.

Pushing her gently to her back, Heston climbed on top of her. With his elbows on the mattress alongside her head and his knees between her legs, he threaded his fingers into her short hair and held onto her. He had her full attention.

All she could do was lick her lips and blink up at him like the fool she’d been. Her heart was breaking. She hadn’t gotten him a ring. Hadn’t gotten him anything. Had only caused him pain. He should hate her. But he didn’t. The evidence was on her finger. He’d had this ring the night she’d left, she knew it. She didn’t deserve it. She’d hurt him too much.

The dim lighting from downstairs illuminated his loft, making his already dark eyes seem black. Extra serious. He trailed a fingertip over her forehead, between her eyes, and down her nose. Cupping her jaw, he lowered her head and pressed his lips to the middle of her forehead. “I bought it the day I joined the Army. Remember the errand I ran after we visited your folks? That’s where I went. The jewelry store texted me while we were at your parents’ place, but I couldn’t give it to you then. The mood was all wrong. You were upset that night, so I waited for another time. Just didn’t think it’d take this long.”

Oh, no. She squeezed her eyes shut. “The night they said those awful things?”

“The night you defended me, London. I was proud of you. You have so much on the ball. You’re smart and beautiful, the perfect woman in so many ways, and the only one for me. You stood firm that night. Didn’t let your dad bully you. Didn’t take crap from your mom. I know they were just looking out for their only daughter. I’m sure they didn’t mean what they said, but right away, you set them straight. You defended me. Then you walked away from the toxic home you grew up in, and you chose to stay with me.”

“I was so angry with them. So disappointed.” London bit her bottom lip.

Her father had called Heston a ‘ useless Hispanic’ that night. But Heston had no idea what hateful pejoratives her father used the next day when he’d called, trying to convince London to come home. To use her brain, for God’s sake. To leave that lazy Latino behind, that she could do better. To pull her head out of her spoiled ass and grow up. That Heston was just another lazy ‘beaner’ who’d never amount to anything. He’d even called Heston a ‘muchacho’ , another derogatory slur that inferred Heston was just a ‘boy’ . That he didn’t deserve the respect a man extends to another. Yeah, those words .

London’s neck muscles worked hard as she swallowed the pain her parents’ words caused Heston. But what had she done then? In a fit of ego and stupid, stupid, stupidity, she’d done precisely what her parents had wanted her to do. She’d run off and left him. London wanted to bang her hard head into a harder wall. Instead, she told him, “I am so, so sorry for leaving you. I’ll never hurt you again, Hes. I was so dumb. I thought I needed to prove something. All I did was prove I’m as bad as my parents.”

“No, babe, you’re not. You aren’t anything like them. Trust me. I know.” That warm finger pressed over her lips again, ending her rant. “How about we let the past stay in the past? We’re here now, London. We’re together and we’re in a good place. You were brave and took a chance. I understand. You did what you had to do, and now you know. Let’s focus on the positives we’ve learned from our time apart; the smart things we’ve done instead of the mistakes we’ve made. Hey, congratulations. We’re engaged.” His brows lifted like he was surprised.

“Even if we weren’t, we’d still be in love,” she whispered, trailing her fingers up the back of his head and into his soft, lush hair. “I promise, Heston Contreras, I will spend the rest of my life loving you. Now snuggle with me.”

The warm smile on his face was exactly what London needed. He did as she asked. Stretched his long legs over her, then settled his handsome body close behind her. With his front to her back, he wrapped her inside his arms and whispered, “You’ve just made my mom very happy.”

She wiggled her butt into his lap. “Because we’re engaged?”

“Yes, babe. She thought I’d never settle down.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve talked to her. I’ll call her tomorrow so we can start making plans.”

His chest expanded with a deep sigh. “She missed you. I think she likes you better than me.”

“No mom loves anyone better than her own son.”

“Mama does. You were always special to her. She’s proud of your accomplishments. I think because you’ve accomplished what she always wanted to do. It’s your college graduation picture on her wall by the fireplace, not mine.”

London squirmed around until she faced Heston. “Are you lying?”

“Promise. Mama likes you best. You’ll see.”

“But I hurt her when I left you. I know I did. I need to apologize, but what can I say?”

“Just show up, babe. I promise, all you have to do is show up and she’ll take it from there. Oh, yeah, bring Kleenex because Mama’s a crier.”

London swiped a finger under her leakiest eye. “So am I.”

The tenderest smile bracketed Heston’s mouth. He leaned into her and kissed the tear away. “My dad’s another story. But Mama? Yeah, bring Kleenex. Maybe a box of it, because she’s going to cry all over you the second she sees you. If she scolds anyone, it’ll be me for not telling her you’re back.”

“I don’t understand why your mom’s always been so nice to me.”

Heston took her jaw in both hands and pressed a kiss to the end of her nose. “Because she loves you. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day, and we’ll be busy. You can call her then.”

London did him one better. Got up in his grill and French-kissed the hell out of her man. “I love you, Hes,” she declared, licking her lips when the steamy kiss ended.

He pulled her back under his arm. “I know, babe. Go to sleep.”

“I am tired,” she admitted.

Before long, Heston’s breathing evened out. But try as she might, sleep wouldn’t come for London. She lay there listening to his heartbeat, wishing she could go back in time and make better decisions that night. She’d hurt him more than she’d ever realized, and she’d hurt his beautiful mother, too. Regret was a sucker punch she hadn’t seen coming. How could she ever make those wrongs right? What do you say to the woman whose son you nearly destroyed just because you were a selfish brat and acted out? London had no idea. She eased from under Heston’s arm, so her tossing and turning wouldn’t disturb him. He grumbled in his sleep but after the day they’d had, she knew he wasn’t waking up.

The night dragged on, but no brilliant plan for forgiveness came to mind. Sleep eluded London at every turn. Insomnia and guilt nagged until—

“Enough,” she told herself, somewhere between two and three in the morning. Quietly, she gathered her scattered clothes, washed up at his bathroom sink, and dressed for the day. She brushed her hair with his brush and used Heston’s toothbrush because morning breath— Ewwww .

Maybe a good run would settle her brain. She tiptoed past him, pausing a moment to gaze down on him as he slept. Heston was the most beautiful man in the world. His olive-skinned face was boyishly slack with sleep, and his dark lashes laid like crescents on his cheeks. There was a fierce hardness about him that hadn’t been there before. Which stood to reason. She’d changed during their time apart, too. In some ways, she was stronger and tougher. She knew how to draw a hard line when push came to shove. She knew how flawed the federal government was. But while she’d drifted from one federal job to another, Heston had gone to war. He’d seen horrible things, might’ve done a few horrible things, too. But he’d served his country instead of himself.

London leaned over and softly pressed her lips to his cheek. “You’re all mine,” she whispered, “and I’m going to molest the hell out of you when I get back. Sleep, Heston. I won’t be gone long.”

Wouldn’t he be surprised when he woke up to coffee and breakfast?

Stealthily, she crept downstairs and quietly unlocked his front door. Once outside, she sucked in a bellyful of crisp, night air and took off running down the street. She hadn’t kept track of how they’d gotten to his place. Just knew she needed the chilly wind in her face to clear her mind. She wasn’t worried about Heston’s dad, but for sure, she owed Bellisa an apology.

She didn’t intend to go far. Had gone around the block he lived on when an idea struck. Why not stop at that cute little bread store and take Bellisa a box of sugary sweetness? What was the owner’s name? Charlee O’Donnell? Sounded right. The store sat in the middle of the block. Maybe the next one over? Why not surprise Bellisa and Heston?

Intent on setting things right, London grinned as she ran. She couldn’t wait to wake Heston. Maybe she’d jump his handsome bones before he even knew who was assaulting him. Maybe she’d wake him up with her tongue and her mouth. She grinned wider. He was the best ice cream cone she’d ever licked.

London was two doors north of the elongated, pink-and-white striped dome awning of that quaint little bakery when she spotted it. Great! The day was looking up.

Until two gnarly guys dressed in black suits stepped out of the alley.

She cut to her left, giving them the inside track, just to be courteous. Also to keep her distance. Women running solo had to keep their guard up.

Instead of stepping aside, the guys spread their feet and blocked her way forward.

“Hey, guys,” she offered breathily. “Coming through. Either get out of my way or—”

Some moron grabbed her from behind and yelled, “I got her! Open the trunk!”

She squirmed to loosen his hold, the ass. Reared her head back to bash his nose. But he was bigger and the arm around her neck was tight. With a grunt, he lifted her off her feet.

She kicked and thrashed, fighting his stranglehold. Not giving up, damn it!

By then, his two buddies were at the car parked by the curb. The trunk was open.

“No!” she hissed, putting all the vehemence she could muster into escaping. She scratched. She kicked. She yelled. “I’m not going into that trunk! Help! Someone help me!”

The other creep ran to assist.

“No! No! You can’t do this!” London screamed louder. But the streets were empty. This was her fault. She should’ve stayed in bed where she belonged. With Heston.

The guy behind her clapped a gloved hand over her mouth and jerked her head to the side.

She cocked her knee, intending a backward kick to his nuts.

A tiny sting hit the crook of her neck. With one shuddering breath, her world melted into murky darkness. They were bigger than her. She was too late to the fight. Too weak. There was no way she would win. She could barely keep her eyes open. Wasn’t sure what was happening to her until her limp body crashed inside the trunk of that truck, car, whatever. Her cheek burned when it met the harsh, cheap interior carpet.

Everything went black. She couldn’t see, couldn’t tell which way was up. Didn’t matter. She jerked her arm out from under her, then rolled to her side. Her poor head buzzed. She tried to focus, to make her eyes work. To remember. Not happening. Every self-defense move she’d learned vanished into the ether.

When a tiny yellow light flashed overhead, she came face to face with two blank eyes staring at her. Oh, shit. The Irish sniper. Ryan Malloy.