‘Not at a crime scene. And not in public while this case is still ongoing.’ She could feel his gaze, studying her profile.
‘Why were you looking at that door in the basement?’ he asked.
She blinked, not expecting that response. ‘I wanted to see where the bullets hit. He was aiming at you. If you hadn’t moved, you’d be dead.’
‘But I did move, and the bullets missed us. You’re not dead and neither am I. Not by a long shot,’ he added in a mutter.
She glanced over at his face, then down at his lap. And had to bite back a whimper. No, he was not dead. Nowhere even close. She clenched her hands around the wheel to keep herself from touching him, from stroking that hard ridge that beckoned her.
‘God,’ she whispered. ‘That’s not fair, Marcus.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ he said under his breath, then adjusted himself with a grimace. ‘So where, Scarlett, and when?’
‘I . . . I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.’
‘I have,’ he said quietly. ‘Take me home with you.’
She turned her head with a jerk to stare at him. He was not joking. She’d never seen a man look more serious. Another car tooted its horn, and she abruptly returned her attention to the road just in time to avert an accident. ‘You mean now?’
‘Yes.’
‘I . . . Marcus, we can’t do that now. I have to walk my dog and get back to work.’
‘Why, Scarlett,’ he said, the dry amusement back in his voice. ‘I’m only planning to look at you. You know, like that. Which I can do while you’re walking your dog. Whatever did you mean?’ He clucked his tongue. ‘You naughty woman, you.’
She had to laugh. ‘You’re . . .’ She sobered, then sighed. ‘Alive. You’re alive.’
‘I am,’ he said just as soberly, all the humor gone. ‘I’m afraid you’ve seen me at my worst. I’m not normally dodging bullets. This is an unusual day.’
‘You wear a bulletproof vest. You get death threats on a regular basis.’
‘You’re a cop,’ he countered evenly. ‘People shoot at you all the time.’
‘Actually, they don’t. I think you’re ahead of me in that department.’ She tapped the tactical vest she still wore. With a shooter after Marcus, she wasn’t taking any chances at being collateral damage. ‘This is not my everyday attire.’
‘Why don’t you want to take me home?’
Unfamiliar panic rose to clog her throat. ‘I didn’t say that.’
He raked his fingers through the thick dark hair at his temple, then held his bloody hand out far enough for her to see without taking her eyes off the road. ‘I need first aid.’
‘The concrete chips,’ she said. The ones he’d sheltered her from. He’d been hit while she didn’t have a scratch on her body.
‘You have to take me home with you so that you can clean the wound and bandage me all up.’
She bit her lower lip. ‘I meant to have the paramedics look at it.’
‘They needed to tend to Tabby.’
‘They could have sent another pair of medics and you know it. Dammit, Marcus. I’m taking you to the hospital.’
‘No.’
The word sounded almost as panicked as she felt. ‘Why not?’
He drew a breath. ‘I don’t like hospitals.’
‘I guess I can understand that, given what happened last year. I don’t care much for them myself.’ An exit was fast approaching and Scarlett took it.
‘Where are we going?’ Marcus asked suspiciously.
‘I’m going to check you out. If it’s worse than I can deal with, I’m taking you to a doctor. Not a hospital,’ she added before he could protest.
The first parking lot she saw belonged to a church. At this time of the day, it was largely deserted. Scarlett stopped the car and went around to open Marcus’s door. She gave him her hand. ‘Stand up. It’s too dim in the car and I need more light to see. We’re sheltered here. No one can shoot at us unless he comes back here in person.’
And if that happened, she was taking the shooter down.
He cooperated, following her as she led him around the open door, backing him up so that he half sat, half leaned against the hood, his feet planted wide. From this position she’d be able to see a shooter approaching before he saw them. ‘Head down,’ she said.
‘Up, down,’ he grumbled, but dropped his chin obediently. ‘You’re bossy.’
‘And you’re just figuring that out?’ She leaned forward to get a better look at the cut on his head. Then sucked in a breath when he gripped her hips and pulled her closer, tucking her between his spread thighs.
‘You said you wanted to look,’ he murmured, his voice a low caress that made her shiver from the inside out. ‘So look.’
Her hands unsteady, Scarlett ignored the silky invitation, carefully parting the hair around the cut on his head. ‘It’s not too deep. I think I can fix it.’
‘Good.’ He pulled her closer, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder and drawing a deep breath. ‘You smell so good,’ he said, his exhale warm against her skin. ‘I could stay here all day. All night.’
The mental image of them writhing between her sheets had her trembling. ‘Marcus,’ she protested, but it was a weak protest indeed. Every cell in her body was urging her to press closer.
He lifted his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes. He was as serious as she’d ever seen him. ‘We’re not at a crime scene and nobody is shooting at us. I think we’ve waited long enough, Scarlett.’
Without further warning, he curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss that instantly took her breath away. No gentle introduction, this. His mouth was hard, intense and so . . . proprietary that she could only moan, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him back. His hands roved up and down her back impatiently and she cursed the tactical vest she wore for robbing her of his touch. With a frustrated noise deep in his throat, his hands slid down her back, past the vest, to close over her butt, kneading her cheeks.
It felt so good that she almost whimpered. Hell, maybe she did whimper, because he growled and yanked her closer, using his hold on her butt to press her hips into his. She’d felt his erection when he’d lain on top of her in the basement, and it had taken every ounce of her willpower – and the knowledge that a gunman could be coming through the basement door – not to give in to temptation. But now there was no shooter, no situation. Just Marcus, his hands on her ass and the very impressive ridge in his jeans.
All for me. The realization left her heady. And greedy. She rubbed against him, lifting her leg to bracket his hip. Closer, was all she could think. She needed to be closer.
His groan vibrated through his chest as he pulled back only far enough to let her breathe, grazing her lips with his. ‘I want you,’ he said, his voice gone gravelly and rough. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, then smiled against his mouth, a sudden surge of happiness rising up within her. ‘I figured that out for myself.’
He squeezed her butt even as he smiled back. ‘And?’
Leaning away to see his face, she abruptly sobered as reality came crashing through. Shit. They were parked behind a church, going at it like teenagers with no regard for . . . anything.
His smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I want you too,’ she confessed quietly. ‘So much that it scares me.’
His brows crunched together, his body going very still. His hands still covered her ass as if he didn’t intend to let her go, and the notion felt way too good. ‘Why does it scare you?’
‘Because I got so caught up that I forgot to be careful. You’re standing out in the open and I wasn’t watching. Anything could have happened to you.’
He drew a deep breath, his stiff shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. ‘Then you have to take me home with you.’ One dark brow lifted. ‘We’ll be safe there, right?’