Sinful Seduction (2 page)

Okay, more than nervous. Alarm bells were going off in her head. Before moving to Key West and actually since living here she’d been adamant about paying attention to her surroundings. But she’d gotten caught up in her head, not thinking about anything. Wondering if she was being paranoid, but not really caring, she picked up her pace and started jogging toward the end of other road. Her sandals—not designed for running—made loud snapping sounds each time she hit the pavement.

Nerves humming through her, she glanced over her shoulder again and nearly stumbled. No one was on the other side of the road. Frowning, she turned and started to pick up her pace again when a man jumped out from one of the cars parked along the curb.

When she saw the knife held loosely in his hand, she instinctively reacted. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she hauled her purse back and slung it at him. Surprise flitted across his features for a moment, giving her the element of surprise as he ducked back, but she only clipped his face. She swung her heavy bag again, aiming at his middle, but he grabbed it mid-air and yanked.

Though she hated to give him her purse, she let go. Everything in it was replaceable and not worth losing her life. Continuing to scream, she pivoted and dodged between two parked cars, trying to put distance between them. As her feet hit the cobblestone street, another man jumped up from behind one of the cars.

Another scream built in her throat, tearing free with bloodcurdling volume. She wasn’t physically strong or stupid enough to think she could take on two men. But she could scream loud enough to bring help while she fought back. Or she hoped.

As she shouted for help, she dodged around the end of the car to the right, away from the other man. Unfortunately that put her right back in the path of the first one.

Panic, slick and icy slid down her spine as she came face to face with her first attacker. He wasn’t holding her purse and the knife was gripped firmly in his hand.

His dark eyes seemed bottomless as he watched her with no expression. As if he was looking right through her.

She started to scream again when a hand clamped over her mouth. The stench of stale cigarettes filled her nostrils and mouth as she started to struggle.

The numbness that had threatened to take over her cracked free, only to be replaced by raw fear that this wasn’t merely a robbery.

Chapter 2

Mina threw her elbow back, ignoring the pain as she connected with the man’s ribs. He grunted, but barely seemed affected. Another shot of raw fear slammed through her as his grip tightened. She started thrashing around and the man in front of her began to advance but suddenly froze, his eyes growing wide as he growled a curse. Then he raced past them and suddenly she was falling. Scrambling to hold on to something, anything to stabilize her, her fingers skimmed the nearby car before she fell onto the cobblestone road.

Despite the pain that ricocheted up her spine, she rolled over and pushed up, expecting to have to defend herself. Instead she saw one huge man fighting with three—three!—in the middle of the quiet road. He slammed his fist against the jaw of the man who’d covered her mouth. Even from this distance she could hear the crack. The man with the knife lunged at him but he kicked out at him like some sort of ninja, throwing her would-be attacker back a couple feet. Though it felt like forever, she knew only seconds had passed as they fought.

And she had to get help.

Scrambling back in between the cars toward the sidewalk, relief punched through her when she saw her purse near a wooden privacy fence that lined this side of the alley. Half of her belongings were strewn across the pavement, including her cell phone. Snagging it off the ground, she started to dial 9-1-1 when the sound of squealing tires made her head jerk up. A dark SUV with tinted windows was racing out the other end of the alley, thankfully in the opposite direction. But the big man who’d come to her rescue was lying on the ground.

Phone in hand she raced down the sidewalk, fighting panic that he’d been injured or worse. Maybe the guy with the knife had stabbed him… As she reached him, he groaned and shoved up to a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” he rasped out as he glanced around, diligently taking in their surroundings.

“I should be asking you that.” Kneeling next to him, she reached out to touch his temple. “Thank you so much for what you did…” A small trickle of blood trailed down the side of his face. “Crap, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, swiping it clean, but didn’t move away from her.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She scanned him, taking in the casual pants and loose T-shirt. That was when she saw the gun peeking out from underneath his shirt which had been shoved up. It was secured to the side of his pants by a small holster. Mina jerked to a halt at the sight of the weapon. Her throat constricted, but before she could move, he pushed up to a standing position and held out a hand for her.

“I have a permit and I’m fine, but we need to call the police. Whoever those guys were, they weren’t just out to mug you. They shot me with a fucking bean bag round.” He groaned as he pulled her to her feet.

At five feet eleven, she was taller than a lot of people so she was surprised when she stood in front of him and realized he had to be well over six feet. And he was really broad too. There couldn’t be an inch of fat on the guy. And why was she noticing that anyway? Maybe she had hit her head. “Wait, what?” His words finally registered as she tore her gaze from his wide chest to his concerned face. “A bean bag? What are you talking about?” And why had he even jumped in to help her like that? She wanted to ask but was struggling to remain calm.

He nodded at the ground and stepped past her. She watched as he bent down and when he came back up with something in his hand she was even more confused at what she saw.

He held it up for her to inspect. “They shot this at me using a shotgun with some sort of modifier on it. I’ve never seen something like that before. I barely heard the release.”

“You mean they shot you with something police use in riot controls?” That was beyond weird. But also deadly. She’d read an article about the kind of damage those things could do if they hit someone in the head or ribs. “Where did they hit you?”

“Barely clipped my shoulder. Trust me, I’m fine,” he said as he scanned her from head to foot. “Did they hurt you? Did they say anything?”

A shiver raced through her as the reality of what could have happened slammed into her all at once. “They didn’t hurt me, but they would have.” As thoughts of how truly horrific tonight could have gone settled in her mind, another shiver took hold and soon she was full-on shaking, her teeth chattering even as she tried to speak. There had been three of them. She hadn’t even seen the third until that fight. And there’d been a driver, so that was four.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling her into a tight embrace. The sudden hold should have shocked her but she was barely hanging on after what had just happened. “You’re okay.” A big, surprisingly gentle hand, soothingly stroked down her back, helping steady out her breathing and slow her heart rate.

Despite the fact that she was standing in the middle of the street—where the hell was anyone else?—with a stranger, she felt oddly safe in his arms. Still clutching her phone, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. He smelled fresh, like clean linen with just a hint of a spicy aftershave. She struggled to find her voice, but couldn’t make her throat work as it tightened.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” he murmured, slowly walking them until they reached the sidewalk. “Step up.”

She did as he said then took a deep, shuddering breath as she stepped out of his embrace. “I’m okay. Sort of.” Enough to talk anyway. “Again, thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t been here…” Shuddering again, she trailed off. She so didn’t need to say the words aloud. The images were already vivid enough in her crazy imagination. “Are you a cop or something?”

He shook his head before glancing around. “No, but we need to call them now. And get you out of this alley. I don’t like how cut off it is from everything.”

She wasn’t going to argue with getting the hell out of there. “My purse,” she blurted, nodding down the sidewalk where the contents of her bag were strewn about.

He fell into step beside her as they headed for it. “What’s your name?”

“Mina. You?”

“Alexander, but you can call me Blue. It’s my last name.”

Despite the remnants of fear clinging to her insides like kudzu, she let out a short laugh. “Blue?”

He lifted those broad shoulders, still not looking at her as he scanned the alley. God, she wanted to punch herself for walking down here alone. The city was relatively safe and this was a great neighborhood, but seeing it through a stranger’s eyes, she realized how truly quiet and cut off this street was. There weren’t any shops on it so no one had any reason to be down here unless they were cutting through. Like she’d stupidly done. That’s what she got for getting complacent. Back in California she’d never have done something like this.

Of course there she would never have been allowed anywhere without armed freaking guards. She raked a shaky hand through her hair as they reached her belongings. “Listen…I don’t want to call the cops.”

He pinned her with that dark gaze, making her squirm. The man was like a statue standing there. “Why not?”

She blinked, surprised he wasn’t immediately insisting she do it. “It’s complicated. Besides, what are they going to do except take a report? We’ll have to go down to the police station and make a statement. Then what? Did you get the license plate?”

He shook his head. “There was mud rubbed on it. But I got a good look at all those guys. And so did you. Right?”

“Two of them.” But if they went to the police it would eventually leak to the public who she was. Only a few people in Key West knew her real name and she trusted them implicitly. She’d been using her mother’s maiden name since she moved here so she could live in peace with relative anonymity. It wasn’t that her father was famous, just filthy stinking rich. And certain people would recognize her last name and try to capitalize on that. Or worse, hurt her. If she filed a report—and she couldn’t give a fake last name to the cops—and the media got wind of it… Yeah, not happening. She wasn’t going to sit back and just do nothing, but… “I’m not filing a report,” she insisted before bending to gather her things.

He knelt next to her and started helping. She was surprised, but relieved he didn’t argue. “This isn’t a purse, it’s like a fucking suitcase,” he muttered.

She laughed at his analysis because it was true. He handed her a fallen e-reader, then a new pack of paintbrushes she’d bought on her way to Jerome’s, as she gathered up everything else. When he paused, she frowned upon seeing what he’d picked up.

And felt her face heat.

He was holding two condoms. The silver wrapper with the word Playhouse in bold, black lettering was unmistakable. They looked so small in his big hands, which made a very feminine part of her tighten unexpectedly. When she’d had the painting for the Playhouse delivered they’d not only paid her, but sent her a very creative gift basket with all sorts of toys. Some things she hadn’t even known what they were used for until she’d Googled them. She’d planned to give the condoms and flavored lube to Jerome—thank God the lube hadn’t fallen out of her purse—but had forgotten after seeing the amount on her check.

“Those aren’t…” She cut herself off, not needing to explain anything to this stranger. She hadn’t had sex since she moved to Florida, not that that was any of his business. If she wanted to walk around with an entire arsenal of condoms and sex toys it was no one’s business but hers. Snatching them from his hand she shoved them into her purse. When she met his gaze again she was surprised by the flash of hunger in that dark gaze.

Unable to find her voice, she finally drank him in. All of him. Crouching there on the sidewalk he looked like a tiger, ready to pounce. Not necessarily on her, but there was a lot of strength and power in that body. That very muscular, very large body. And something told her that he was proportionate
everywhere
. With the sharp, defined lines of his face, he’d be a dream to paint. And sculpt. That thought made her hands itch to do just that. As her gaze landed on his lips she was struck by how soft they were in comparison to the rest of him. Soft, kissable…

When he cleared his throat she felt her face heat up again as she met his gaze. And that hunger was still there. It was muted now, but definitely simmering beneath the surface in those dark brown eyes. “Seriously, thank you for what you did. I can’t believe you took on all those men for a stranger. Can I buy you dinner or something? Please.” It was a lame way to thank him, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

Sighing, he rubbed a big hand over his face. “You
should
call the cops,” he muttered.

She ignored his words as she saw his bruised knuckles. “You’re hurt,” she said, sounding more accusing than she’d meant to.

Reaching out, she took his right hand in hers. It might have been her imagination but an electric current seemed to jolt through her at the contact. His palm and fingers were rough and callused as she inspected his knuckles. He jerked slightly at her touch, but didn’t pull away.

“This is nothing,” he muttered in that deep gravelly voice that did strange things to her insides.