Hurry Up And Wait (Owens Protective Services #24)

32. Riley

32

RILEY

“That movie was terrible,” Bowie grumbled as we strolled down the sidewalk.

“I know. It was so sappy. If I have to see another man cry in a movie theater, I might just lose it.”

“No self-respecting man cries over a woman. No offense.”

I scoffed at that. “None taken. No woman wants a man who cries. I mean, maybe if there’s some life-altering change, but not because you’re finally admitting you’re in love.”

He stopped on the sidewalk and settled his hands on my hips, tugging me closer. “And what about non-imaginary men in your life? What do you want out of them?”

My eyebrows shot up at his question. “Are you asking me because you want me to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets or for research?”

“Research, obviously.”

I grinned at him. “Well, I do happen to like mechanics who are strong and protective.”

“That’s interesting considering that you ignored me when IKE came along.”

“That was for research for women,” I argued. “A man like IKE is like the Loch Ness Monster. We’ve heard of men who are like him, but no women have ever seen a man like him up close.”

“And what makes him so special?”

I pretended to think about it, which only made him grip my hips tighter. “Well…he’s broody.”

“I could be broody.”

“He has a sexy swagger.”

He scowled at me. “And what do I do? Walk like a girl?”

I grinned, continuing with my list. “And he smokes.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

“I would agree, but on him…the suit, the slicked hair, the swagger…it completes the look. You could never pull it off.”

“Not that I would want to,” he grumbled. “Who wants to be like IKE?”

“See, that’s where you’re getting this all wrong. IKE is a type of man?—”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” he interrupted, “but think very carefully about your next words.”

I chuckled at the insecurity in his voice. “As I said, he’s a type of man. He’s dark and dangerous, and that’s great for dreams. But in reality, a man like him isn’t what women actually want. He will never commit. He will never break his bad habits for a woman. He’s the unattainable man, and as great as that sounds in a book or in a movie, in reality, it really sucks.”

He pulled me a little closer, gripping my hips tight. “So, what you’re saying is that you really want the filthy mechanic.”

I grinned up at him, wrapping my hands around his neck. “The filthier, the better.”

His lips closed over mine and his hand thrust into the back of my hair, tugging as he devoured me. I was scarcely able to breathe. Every inch of me was on fire, but then again, Bowie was a mechanic. He had a way about him.

When he stepped back and grinned at me, I could only flutter my eyelashes at him, still too mesmerized to think of a single thing to say. “So…shall we go home? I’ll show you what a mechanic can really do.”

“Uh-huh,” were the only words that left my lips .

We made it to the crosswalk and waited for the light to change. In this small town, not a single person was out this late, but that was fine by me. I snuggled closer to him as we stepped off the sidewalk and headed for his truck. I glanced up at him, my lips quirking in a smile that he returned.

Bright lights blinded me as the sound of a roaring engine caught me by surprise. Bowie spun around, shoving me behind him for only a split second. Then he was shoving me hard. I went flying, barely clearing the path of the vehicle flying at us. My head thumped painfully off the pavement as I watched in horror as Bowie tried and failed to get out of the way. His body was crushed by the car, flying up over the hood, crashing into the windshield like a rag doll, and then he was thrown over the back of the car. I couldn’t see him from where I laid.

I struggled to move, to get to him, but my head throbbed painfully and my body wouldn’t obey my commands. A whimper left my lips as the door of the car opened and boots appeared in the darkness. I tried to call out for help, but not a sound left my lips. The harsh gleam of the lights accentuated the boots that walked toward me, taunting me with their approach, but I couldn’t do a thing to escape.

Fingers clawed at my hair, nearly yanking it from my scalp. I whimpered at the pain, but couldn’t cry out. Then a cloth was shoved over my face and everything started to fade. My heart thundered in my chest as I thought of Bowie on the ground, his body broken. Was he alive? Was he even breathing?

But all those thoughts faded into a whirl of black smoke as I succumbed to the darkness.