Heart Shot (4 page)

Maybe he’s like you?
A soft inner voice whispered in her ear.
What if he isn’t a colleague, bodyguard or friend of Marshall’s? What if he’s another assassin?

For some reason she didn’t analyze, Emily found that thought warming. Attracted to him as she was, the concept that he might be like her, that he could understand the decisions she’d made and choices she’d faced tingled in her blood, making her heat. Indulging in the harmless fantasy, she smiled and turned to feign interest in some cucumbers.

Clearly you’ve lost your professional edge
, that small inner voice chastised her.
Cut your losses before you expose yourself any further. Text James. Decline the job. If you’re weaving fantasies of a pretty face framed in blond hair with big blue eyes, it’s time to move on.

But where there’s smoke there’s fire
, insisted a different part of her mind.
There wouldn’t be these rumors if Keyton wasn’t involved in something nefarious. What about that?

Emily drew in a deep breath and stilled her racing thoughts. She’d been wrong to let James talk her into this. Turning away from the grocery stall she then walked down the street. She didn’t pause or turn to look at her target as she strode past the café. Certain she was right to drop the mission she glanced one last time ahead of her to where the sexy man stood.

He turned his face, capturing her for just a second before she moved her gaze away. Even that casual exchange of utter strangers had her body reacting. Her nipples tightened, her stomach knotted lazily. Her cheeks flushed, so she lowered her head slightly.

The familiar crack of gunfire captured her attention.

For a second it was as if the entire street froze, then pandemonium broke out. Women screamed and chairs scraped back as people fled.

Crack.

Crack.

Instinct took over as the window directly behind her shattered. Emily ducked and rolled on the ground until she was half under a table. Behind her, people were scurrying out of the café and racing down the street. Marshall and his two cronies were with him as they fled, bent almost double, their hands held protectively over their heads.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Emily couldn’t gauge where the bullets were lodging, but it didn’t appear as if anyone had been hit. Was this some sort of prank? A gimmick? Who shot this many times and didn’t hit anyone?

Not wanting to stick around and still be present when the police showed up, Emily rose to her knees then crouched behind the upturned table. Looking quickly left then right, she assessed the easiest route and turned to run.

Crack.

The shot whizzed past, close enough that she felt heat across her thigh.

Emily didn’t believe much in chance. The area was rapidly emptying but there were still dozens of people in range. The likelihood of her being targeted randomly was low, but she hadn’t imagined that bullet.

They were after
her
.

Her blood cooled, her heart rate spiked and training took over. Emily pulled the long-barreled handgun from her shoulder holster. The highly illegal weapon had been concealed beneath her jacket. It fit to her hand like it was made especially for her. Emily turned to study the area around her, searching for the best sniper position and scouring where her attacker could be.

A brick wall slammed into her and she fell to the ground, winded. A masculine, woodsy scent enveloped her senses and she felt her shoulders cupped by large, warm hands.

“Are you all right, madam?” a deep voice asked her, concern in the tone. “Are you hit? Hello? Miss?”

Emily focused her gaze on the sexy man bending over her, covering her body protectively with his own. The blond she’d fantasized about had apparently decided to rescue her. She smiled, sensual heat flooding her.

He locked his blue eyes with hers, and for a moment everything appeared to stop, stilled by an intensity that burned her. His lips were luscious, full and enthralling. She leaned up, the desire to kiss them natural and instinctive. Only the sound of sirens approaching snapped her back to reality.

Screams filled the air and they both jolted as if electrocuted.

“I’m Finlay. Fin,” he said, blinking quickly as if he’d been struck a blow to the head. “I’ll help you get out of here, but we’ll need to—are you holding a gun?”

“Uh.” Emily sat up on the footpath. With a smooth motion that she’d practiced regularly, she replaced the safety as she slid the gun into the waistband of her slacks. The barrel pointed down, pressed into the hollow at the base of her spine. The position wasn’t the most comfortable one, but it would take her less than a second to remove the gun should she be caught again in the cross fire.

With what she hoped would appear like a casual action, she shrugged. This moved her jacket to once more fall into place.

Emily knew it wasn’t the safest way to carry her gun, nor the most subtle, but it was the carrying method she’d been taught. It was how she practiced her draw and once learned she was reluctant to change it. Besides, she was now fast and she could quickly holster her weapon when she was away from the scene.

Fin smiled at her, a devastatingly gorgeous look, making him appear like some wicked Pan ready for sensual, enticing play. As he moved back to give her space she almost missed the sight of a small hand gun holstered beneath his own blue jacket. The sirens were practically on top of them. She knew her time had just run out. Crouching, she guessed there was a small alley only a few hundred feet away. If she sprinted she should be fine and able to make her escape. She tensed her body, ready to flee.

“Ah, I’ve got it,” Fin drawled, his manner relaxed and charming once more. “You’re not supposed to carry. I might be of a mind to let you slide this one time, but I’ll need to— Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m not going to be questioned,” she insisted. “I have to go.”

“But I don’t know your name!”

Emily turned to take one last look at his face. Her body reacted again, and she wished she was able to indulge herself for once.

“I’m Emily,” she said, shocked when the words fell from her lips. On the rare occasion she gave a name while working it was always a false one, usually Amy or Sarah—common ones that sprang easily to mind. Flustered now, she half-smiled at Fin, then turned and fled.

She thought she could hear him call out to her, but the sound of the police and shouts of all the people left behind mingled together into a cacophony of noise. Emily figured it just as likely it was her imagination, wish fulfillment.

Without a backward glance and only a small amount of regret, she raced away from the entire situation. Emily couldn’t believe she’d let him take her by surprise, tackling her like that. She never lost focus while she worked, she’d always been completely aware of her surroundings and in full control. If she didn’t know better she’d swear the man had cast a spell over her, some sort of distraction spell.

With one heated look, a wicked grin and a bit of close contact he’d gotten her name. Damn, the man was good. No one ever said a sharp brain couldn’t lurk behind a handsome face. Now she’d just relearned that lesson the hard way. He wasn’t some dandified fop, but a smart, savvy man.

She needed to forget him, and the way he made her heart race and her body heat.

Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the fact that merely remembering how his sleek, hard body had felt pressed into her slender curves made her wet. She had far bigger problems at hand. Like who the hell had been shooting, and why?

What the hell was going on?

* * * *

What the hell’s going on?
Fin wondered, completely side-swiped by Emily. The astonishing woman ran like a professional down the street and into the nearest alley. Fin looked behind him. Keyton and two of his coworkers cowered behind a bus shelter. All three of them were talking quickly into their phones.

A car engine revved and Fin tensed. He turned, body rigid, expecting anything. But he recognized that long, black town car and the driver. The man swerved in front of Marshall with a smooth glide of excellent steering and well-oiled brakes. The doors opened and all three men practically threw themselves into the safety of the back seat.

With Keyton being whisked to safety, Fin made a snap decision.

I’m going to catch a heap of shit for this,
he admitted to himself, resigned.

Ignoring his duty, going with his instincts instead, Fin turned his back on his obligation to remain with his ‘client’ and adhere to Preston’s mission. Instead, he raced after the surprising woman.

This isn’t because she has gorgeous tits, or an arse I could nibble on all day without getting bored.
There’s something about her. The ease with which she held that gun, the speed of her reflexes, the fact she’s here at all. It all adds up to something… I just don’t know what, yet.

Fin hurried into the alley and down the long cobblestoned way. When he followed the path around the back of the shops, he caught sight of her exiting onto another street. Giving chase, he tried to not think of how glorious it’d been to feel her in his arms.

Petite but curved enticingly, she’d fit against his body as if she’d been created for him. Long, honey brown hair fell past her shoulders and eyes like melted chocolate had seared him. There was a sadness in that gaze he couldn’t ignore, a weight she seemed to carry that he wanted to help her with.

She brought out the chivalrous nature in him, something he’d never thought lurked beneath his blasé exterior. He wanted to ease the pain he sensed within her, bring a spark of joy into those eyes and tease laughter from those lush lips. He craved to know what she’d look like on the point of orgasm, with all those barriers down.

Would her face be even more beautiful with the weight lifted from her heart? His mouth watered as he imagined her body slick with sweat, arching up to him in supplication as he thrust his dick deep into her glistening pussy.

His breath caught. Fin could almost feel her tight heat squeezing around his cock, milking him dry.

Shaking his head, he decided it’d been too long since he’d last gotten laid—far too long.

She’s got a gun,
he reminded himself.
Chances are good she’s some sort of player. If you jump her, she might just shoot you instead of politely declining like a sweet, chaste little debutant would. Keep your focus, Mann.

Fin realized she hadn’t expected the shooting, however. When he’d first caught sight of her ducking for cover in front of the café she hadn’t held the weapon. Indeed it had taken her precious seconds to register the danger and draw the gun. She’d been jittery, surprised.

Ambushed?

The usually silent voice at the back of his mind, his deepest instinct, floated the thought to him. Fin shook his head, discarding the idea. This was a random attack, right? Or…possibly a hit out on Marshall? No one had been after her, surely?

Really confused now, and feeling faintly guilty for chasing her instead of remaining behind to protect Keyton, Fin put on a burst of speed. His lungs were heaving and he cursed the slippery-soled leather office shoes he’d worn today. He swore, then he gritted his teeth and caught up to Emily.

Grabbing her arm, he then jolted them both to a stop. Fin quickly took stock of her. Her breaths came as hard as his, but she didn’t sweat or appear unduly rocked by the physical exertion. Indeed, as he studied her, the more his curiosity was roused. She tracked her dark eyes around them both with a professionalism that shook his confidence in her innocence. Emily gave every indication of a calmness that worried him.

“Who the hell are you and what’ve you got to do with this?” Fin demanded more harshly than he’d intended.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Let me go.” She tugged her arm, but Fin tightened his grip upon her.

“Gun shots sound out in the middle of a busy city street, and you duck for cover, pulling out a nasty looking, highly illegal weapon. I can see in your eyes you’re already forming some lie, Emily whoever-you-are. You’re scanning the distance like a pro. I know you’re tied up in this somehow. That sweet smile won’t distract me a second time. What’s going on?”

This time she seemed genuinely surprised by his words. He assumed the shock was sincere, as it only flashed across her face. Seconds later she’d returned to her formerly inscrutable look and frowned. Fin watched as she flicked her pink tongue out for a moment. She licked her lower lip. He wanted to follow her action, trace that plush mouth with his own tongue, but restrained himself.

While Emily thought, he wondered if her lip action was a subconscious tell on her part.

“You’re reminding me that it’s not just women who can use their looks to distract the enemy from thinking they have a brain,” she said in what he thought was a cryptic manner.

Fin couldn’t tell if her words were a compliment or a complaint. Either way, he refused to be distracted by
her
beauty. He glanced up and down the street to try to gather his thoughts. He wondered what the hell he was doing. Pulling her with him, he then stalked over to a quiet corner. He lowered his voice so they’d not be overheard by anyone.

“That doesn’t answer anything. Who are you, and what do you do to justify a gun like that? What part do you play in this? How do you connect in? Is someone after you? Are you in trouble?”

“I’m not— Wait, what? In trouble?
Me
!”

She widened her eyes in what was either the best acting he’d seen, or genuine shock. When she lowered her jaw on the last word, he knew it wasn’t fake. Again this loss of control only lasted a swift moment. She snapped her mouth closed and tensed. Her gaze sparked with what he could only call outrage, which further confused him.

“Is that why you followed me?” she said with scorn. “To protect me? Fin, let me explain something to you, I don’t need a hero, or some man to keep me safe. I’m perfectly, completely able to handle myself, thank you very much.”

Fin frowned, caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement.