Wanted (Most Wanted #1)(23)
Author: J. Kenner

“Shit, Chris!” the lean guy shouted as Evan twisted Chris-the-Bruiser’s arm behind his back and wrested the knife free.

“Motherfucker!” Chris snarled, but he didn’t struggle, and from where I stood I could see why—considering Evan’s grip, if Chris even breathed wrong, his arm was going to snap.

“You fucked up bad, pretty boy,” the lean guy spat, already in motion with his own knife tight in his hand.

In the kind of move that Hollywood directors probably spent weeks choreographing, Evan shoved Chris aside, spun toward the lean guy, knocked his knife arm out of the way, then thrust the tip of the knife he’d taken off Chris into the flesh at the base of the lean guy’s throat. Chris cursed and sprinted down the alley, leaving his buddy to Evan’s mercy.

Evan didn’t even spare him a glance, his attention focused entirely on the lean guy with the knife still twitching in his hand. “Give me a reason,” Evan said. “Give me just one reason, and I’ll slice through you like butter.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wrong reason.” In a move too fast for me to see how it happened, Evan yanked the guy into a clench, his face a wash of rage. Now the length of his blade was pressed to the lean guy’s throat. I saw a single drop of blood trail down his neck. “All I have to do is flick my wrist,” Evan whispered, the voice so soft and menacing it seemed to be inside my head instead of spoken.

The guy’s eyes were squeezed tight, and the knife he still held clattered to the pavement. I caught the pungent scent of urine and knew that he’d wet himself.

I heard a soft noise, like the cry of a child. At first I thought it came from the man in Evan’s arms. Then I realized it came from me.

I saw Evan’s muscles stiffen, saw the shift of expressions on his face, the way he brought the rage down. The way his chest rose and fell as he looked at me and gathered himself. Slowly—very slowly—he drew the knife away, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed quiet. The thought should have terrified me. It didn’t. This was Evan, and like Jahn, he’d do whatever it took to protect me.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Evan said, his voice like the low roll of thunder.

The guy didn’t waste any time. He took off down the alley, practically tripping over himself in the process.

Slowly, Evan moved to the trash bin and tossed the knife in. Then he came toward me, moving gingerly, as if I were a wounded animal. I didn’t understand the reason for his tentative approach until he crouched in front of me. Only then did I realize that I’d slid to the ground, my knees pulled tight to my chest.

“Hey,” he said, his voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He reached out and stroked my hair. “They’ve gone. They’re not going to hurt me, and I’d kill them before I’d let them hurt you.”

I nodded, thankful for his touch. The pitching, tossing waves inside me began to settle into soft, undulating swells.

I reached out a hand for him to help me up, but he shook his head. “No. I’ve got you.”

Before I could protest, he had his arms under my legs and behind my back. I thought I should protest, but I couldn’t quite work up the desire. Instead, I curled against him, letting his steady strength soothe the rawness of my memories.

I have no idea where it came from, but the moment we emerged from the alley onto the street, a familiar-looking black Lexus pulled to the curb. A burly man with arms as thick as my thighs hurried out and opened the back door for Evan, who moved gingerly as he placed me on the soft leather.

“Don’t go,” I whispered, as the icy prickles and hard knots of fear began to return.

“Never,” he said, as he slid in beside me. And then I was in his arms again, safe and warm. I curled up next to him, my eyes closed. I heard the door slam, then the sound of Evan’s palm against the back of the front seat. A signal to go, I realized, because the next thing I felt was motion and power as the Lexus pulled out onto the street.

Evan said nothing, and for that I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to explain. I didn’t even want to be reassured. All I wanted was for him to hold me, and he did that, his arm around me, his fingers idly stroking my upper arm. My head rested on his shoulder, and though I thought I felt his lips brush over my hair, I couldn’t be sure, as I didn’t have the strength to lift my head and look at him.

I was tired. My body drained, my muscles limp. Everything was coming at me too damn fast. I didn’t want anything but the feel of Evan’s arms around me, and if I had my way, I would have stayed like that, held tight in the warmth of his embrace, forever.

seven

Forever ended all too soon.

The next thing I knew, the engine had stopped and we were parked in front of Jahn’s building. As I blinked groggily, I saw Tony the doorman hurry over. He pulled open the door and Evan slid out, then bent back in to give me a hand.

“I’m fine.” The breath I drew in was shaky, and I knew that my voice was going to sound petulant, but I couldn’t help myself. “You brought me to the condo.”

His gray eyes were clear and full of understanding. “I thought you needed someplace familiar.”

I nodded, even though he was wrong. I didn’t want familiar. Hell, I was familiar, and wasn’t that the whole point? To get as far away from myself as I could? I’m not sure I knew anymore. All I knew was that for years, I’d felt lost. Until tonight, that is. Until I felt Evan’s touch and knew that I’d finally come home.

That, however, wasn’t something I was going to tell him. I might be feeling ripped and scared and sentimental and a million other emotions, but I knew better than to dump the heavy shit on a guy I wanted to stay. So, wisely, I stayed silent as he led me through the polished lobby to the sleek elevator bank.

The car arrived and we got on. I started to dig in my purse for the card key that would access the penthouse, but Evan already had one. I’m not sure why I was surprised. He was as close to Jahn as I’d been. Maybe closer. For years, Evan had been around full-time, while I’d only been able to visit during the summers and then, later, when my college load permitted jaunts into town.

Only silence greeted us as we entered the condo, a sharp contrast to the noisy hum of the guests that had filled these walls earlier in the evening. Not even Peterson was around. Though he was ostensibly Jahn’s live-in help, he actually lived in a separate apartment one floor below the penthouse that could be accessed by a private set of security stairs.