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.
“Please…”
He shook his head. Terror squeezed her heart. She kissed him again. More frantically, wild now because this was her only hope. He was her ticket to freedom. They’d ditched the others, and now she just had to deal with him.
A growl built in his throat, and his hand tightened around her wrists. “Be careful,” he warned her.
She didn’t have time to be careful. Her tongue licked over his lips and—
He kissed her back. His mouth parted, and he took control. His lips were demanding on hers, his desire obvious in the way his tongue thrust into her mouth and the rising bulge in his jeans that she could feel shoving against her. His right hand curled under her chin, and he tilted her head up so that he could kiss her even deeper.
“Fucking taste delicious,” he bit off against her mouth. “So sweet…” His tongue swept past her lips again. He shifted his stance just a bit as he tried to get even closer to her.
And that was just what she’d been waiting for. Elizabeth’s knee came up in a fast and brutal hit. She made perfect contact because his pained grunt filled her ears and his grip eased on her hands. Elizabeth tore away from him and she ran as fast as she could.
Don’t fight?
Don’t scream?
Don’t run?
She opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could. Oh, hell, yes, she was going to scream. She was going to fight. She was going to run. There was no way she’d just die easily.
His footsteps pounded behind her. Her bare feet hurt as she ran over that rough street. She’d lost her high heels when those jerks grabbed her outside of her apartment.
She turned to the left. Saw only another alley waiting. But music was blaring in the distance, a Latin beat, and she knew that music meant people. If she could just get there, she’d survive. She’d find real help and not just—
“Freeze.”
She’d finally found light. A weak street light that fell down on the man before her. A man who was holding a gun.
Elizabeth froze.
She could hear the sound of Saxon’s thudding footsteps growing closer.
The man with the gun—she couldn’t see much of his face because the light was behind him. He was big, with shoulders nearly as broad as Saxon’s. And his hold on that weapon wasn’t wavering.
Could this night get any worse for her?
Saxon’s hands closed around her shoulders.
Yes, the night just got worse. So much for her run at freedom.
“The rules were simple.” Saxon spun her around to face him. “Were you trying to piss me off?”
“I was trying to stay alive! I was trying—”
“I don’t have time for this shit.” That voice belonged to the man with the gun. “Saxon, get her in the van and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Wait—no. No, that guy could not be working with Saxon. But…but Saxon had just tossed her over his shoulders like she was a sack of potatoes. She punched him. She kicked, but it didn’t matter. In about three seconds, Elizabeth found herself in the back of a van, with Saxon right at her side.