Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Trace

N othing was ever clearer to me. No instinct ever stronger. Not in the military or working for the security agency. I have never had my gun out and pulled the trigger faster than I did to take out the tires of that car when it tried to speed past me.

With my fucking wife inside, her face drained of color in the backseat with a man’s hand over her mouth.

My anger and worry boiled over to an impossible level that I’ve only felt fighting for my life in Syria. Popping a tire, the car swerves, and I jump on the hood, using my smoking gun to break the windshield.

“Stop the fucking car, mate, or you die.” I grip the broken windshield with one hand, ignoring the pain. With jagged glass slicing my fingers, I aim my gun at the driver’s face. “Is that man in the back worth your life?”

The driver slams on the brakes, and I barely manage to hold on, the blood gushing from my hand making it slippery. Keeping my gun aimed at the driver, I slide off and rush to the rear passenger door. It’s locked.

“Open this fucking door.” I bang my fist on the window and change the aim of my gun from the driver to the ugly mug of Shea’s captor.

The fucker wisely releases Shea and pushes her toward the door. “Get the hell out,” he yells.

I meet his eyes, committing every feature to memory. He goes white like he can read my thoughts. You are a dead man.

That unlocking click noise ramps up my adrenaline, and I yank the door open. Shea jumps into my arms, her entire body trembling. Knowing the police will show up any minute, I lean in to the car. “Two things. Her purse. And who the fuck are you?”

He throws me her bag. “Fuck you.”

“Who the fuck do you work for?” I scream at the driver, pointing the barrel back at him.

“C... Crest,” the guy stutters and puts his head down.

“Archer Crest sent you to kidnap Shea fucking O’Rourke?” I ask the asshole in the back. “Do you know who her brothers are?”

He bristles at my threat. “The Crests have powerful allies who can crush her brothers.”

“You tell your boss that fucker just signed his death warrant,” I ground out, but I’m ready to lose it. “And you too, if you’re there.”

“Go fuck yourself.” The guy in the back slams the door closed and the car speeds off.

With Shea tucked under my arm, I shove my gun into my jacket and squeeze my fist closed to staunch the blood. “You’re okay. I got you, love.”

Jesus Christ, this was my fault. Kieran must have had intelligence that Crest was planning something. And Scava knew about him, too.

Fuck!

Those two must have talked behind our backs and Crest got the heads-up somehow.

I walked right into it.

Not wanting to draw any more attention to us, as much as I want to just lift Shea and put her over my shoulder, I steer her by the waist to a nearby bodega.

The smell of coffee beans overwhelms me as I hug her. “You’re safe, my love.”

“Is it over?” She whimpers into my chest. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“It’s over. I promise.”

“I want to go home. Please, Trace.” She sniffs.

Getting out of here is a good idea. Some people in the bodega are staring at us. They’re possible witnesses to me hanging on to the hood of the car driving erratically.

I first need to make sure the coast is clear, and that Shea is okay. I turn my focus on her with a post-traumatic assessment. Other than mascara stains on her cheek, she looks unharmed. “Did that man touch you?”

“He held me too tight. My ribs ache a little,” she answers, wincing and holding herself.

“He didn’t touch you in a sexual way?”

“No,” she scoffs.

I hold her tighter and look out the storefront window for any suspicious activity. The scene on the street appears normal again. “Has anything like this happened to you before?”

“No.”

I exhale, hoping she either has good luck or good sense. Or maybe it was her name that kept her safe. Not anymore. Scava sends men to spy on her. Crest tries to abduct her.

A fire burns through my veins imagining what would have happened if I wasn’t so close. If she made this trip by herself, she’d be in that car. Gone. Alone, scared, thinking no one could find her.

“How’s your breathing? Do you need your inhaler?”

“No,” she says, sounding stronger.

In a moment of weakness, I consider bringing her to Lachlan for safekeeping. I’m one man. She’s trusted her brothers her whole life to protect her. Even if it means facing their wrath that we went against Kieran’s orders.

Clearing my throat, I offer, “Do you want your brother, Lachlan, love? Will that make it better?”

“No,” her voice wobbles. “You. Only you.”

Fuck...

As quickly as Shea fell apart, she comes around just as fast. The shaking stops minutes later. My eyes stay on the man behind the counter. He nods, suggesting he understands we’ve been through something terrible by the look of the blood on my sleeve and the near-hysterical woman in my arms.

Juice , I mouth to him and moments later, he brings me a bottle. I reach for my wallet, but he waves me off.

“Drink this, love. You need some sugar. Your levels have probably dropped, and you might be in shock.” I bring it to her mouth.

Her eyes stray to my cut-up hand. “You’re bleeding.”

I look down at my blood-soaked shirt cuff. “Least of my concerns, princess.” I ignore the twinge in my hand. “We need to get out of here.” I manage to get my wallet and drop a twenty on the counter with a nod of appreciation. “Can you walk, or do you want—”

“I can walk.” She pulls herself together, impressing the hell out of me.

She is an O’Rourke. The same blood runs through her veins. She’s tough, my mouthy princess.

And a whole lot prettier.