She twists in his grip, using her other hand to claw at his face, her nails catching his cheek. He howls in pain but tightens his hold on her and she cries out. The panic in her eyes ignites something primal in me, something depraved and savage.
The vent finally gives, the cover clattering to the floor. The scene below burns into my mind—Geneva, pressed against the wall, her face pale but fierce as she fights back, and Lobo with his filthy hands on her.
I launch myself out of the vent, dropping down into the room with a quiet thud. The second my boots hit the ground, I move. Lobo doesn’t even have time to react before I’m behind him, my arms snaking around his head like a viper. The chain of my cuffs digs into his throat as I pull it taut, locking him in place.
He thrashes, clawing at my arms, gasping for air. But I’m stronger. And I’m fucking pissed. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?” I ask.
Geneva stares at me, frozen in shock, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her wide eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the world ceases to exist. Because she is my world.
I give her a crooked smile, tightening the chain around Lobo’s neck. “Did you miss me, Doc?”
She blinks, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out. Her silence doesn’t matter. I see the answer in her eyes.
Lobo’s body jerks violently, his gasps turning to wet, desperate gurgles. He claws at the chain, his nails scratching at my skin, but I don’t let up. My grip only tightens, fueled by the image of him attacking her, of her fear. Of her pain.
“No one touches her,” I growl, leaning closer to his ear. “No one.”
Geneva finally moves, stepping away from the wall, her hands out in supplication. “Ghost, stop,” she says, her voice shaking but firm. “You’ll kill him.”
“That’s the idea,” I deadpan.
She almost smiles, but the seriousness of the situation stops her. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”
“Not worth it?” I repeat, my voice low. “That might be true. But you are worth it. Always.”
I palm the sides of Lobo’s head to pull the chain-link more taut, even as it opens me up to getting elbowed by him. The pain of his blows reinforces how badly he could’ve hurt Geneva.
Eventually, his body goes slack in my arms, his futile struggles ceasing. The weight of him is oddly satisfying, but he’s a heavy fucker, so I’m quick to release him.
Then I kick him for good measure. “Motherfucker.”
Turning to Geneva, I find her staring at me with wide eyes. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths and her face is pale. She’s shaken, but she’s still standing. Still breathing.
“You okay, Doc?”
She nods slowly, as if she’s not quite sure. “You took long enough getting here.”
“What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”
CHAPTER 31
GENEVA
Ghost stands a few feet away, his expression calm, almost amused, as if he didn’t just strangle someone with his cuffs and drop out of a vent like fucking Batman.
No, he’d be the Joker. Heath Ledger style. Hot but deranged.
I exhale sharply, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, making my knees weak. I hate the way my body betrays me in his presence, not just with fear, but with the uncomfortable heat that coils in my stomach.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ghost arches an eyebrow, his gaze steady on mine. “Really? You think he’d have stopped if I asked nicely?”
My stomach twists, and I look away, avoiding the body on the floor. Ghost is right, of course. Lobo wouldn’t have stopped. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Ghost hadn’t been here.
I shift my attention back to him. His gaze hasn’t left me, astute and unrelenting, as if he’s dissecting every emotion flickering across my face.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “You can’t kill every man who threatens me.”
“The fuck I can’t.” Ghost narrows his gaze. “This isn’t the attitude I expected after saving your life.”
The disappointment in his voice cuts me. He’s right. Again. How annoying.
I nod slowly in resignation. “Thank you, Ghost. I really mean it.”
A flicker of something crosses his features. Appreciation? Devotion? I’m not sure because it disappears too quickly for me to read. Whatever the emotion, it was tender. And so at odds with the killer watching me intently.
“That’s more like it,” he says. His customary grin returns. “See how easy that was?”
I roll my eyes, repressing a smile of my own. “Don’t get used to it.”
He smirks, the charm he exudes infuriating as ever. “I wouldn’t dream of it, but isn’t it customary to receive a token of gratitude?”
“Like what?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, my curiosity getting the best of me. Regret immediately sets in. God only knows what Ghost’s answer will be.
“A kiss,” he says simply.
There is nothing simple about that. In fact, I can’t think of anything worse.
I scoff, trying to mask the way my blood rushes under my skin with renewed vigor. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?” Ghost takes a step toward me. And another. His movements are fluid and graceful, like a predator closing in on its prey. “Or are you just scared?”
I glare at him as my thoughts collide, making my head ache. My attraction to Ghost is nothing more than a psychological response. A textbook case of gratitude and misplaced attachment. He saved my life, therefore, I feel drawn to him. It’s primal. It’s survival. It’s not real.
It can’t be.
But even as I analyze my behavior, the logical explanation doesn’t eradicate the flames of desire burning me. If I don’t put an end to this conversation, I’ll be nothing more than ash, a pile of long-forgotten inhibitions.
I shake my head, stepping farther back, desperate to put space between us. “I’m not scared and you’re not a hero who deserves a prize. If anything, you’re the villain in my story.”
“That’s fair. Here’s the thing about villains… They don’t ask. They just take what they want.”
His words hang in the air, dripping with that maddening confidence, his smirk daring me to respond. The room feels stifling, the tension coiled so tightly it threatens to snap.
Ghost steps closer, and I retreat, only to find the wall at my back. He stops just inches away, his breath on my lips, his presence overwhelming me. I could barely handle him on the other side of the glass, but now having his body nearly flush with mine, I’m hopeless.
“That’s why you’re dangerous,” I say quietly. “You take without thinking about the consequences.”
“Oh, I think about the consequences, Dr. Andrews. I just don’t give a shit about them.”
Ghost’s hand shoots out to grab me by the throat before he yanks me to him. His lips crash down on mine, and I freeze.
This kiss is unrelenting, possessive, forceful.
He slants his mouth over mine, his tongue seeking entrance. Seeking dominion. And somewhere beneath my indignation, beneath my confusion, a treacherous part of me comes alive.
I shouldn’t want this.
Ghost is everything I despise: a ruthless criminal who doesn’t respect the sanctity of life.
My mind screams rejection, but my body cries for more. The heat of him. The raw intensity. The dangerous edge that vibrates just beneath his skin.