“Give me the number for your cell phone.” I search the cab for something to write it on.
He removes a wrinkled receipt from the glove box, jots down the number, and hands it to me, with annoyance written across his face. “Try not to get yourself abducted.”
Lorne might be a class-A prick, but I know he won’t take his eyes off me between here and that car. Besides, John Holsten would be a fool to show up with Lorne’s truck sitting here.
I hop out and stuff the paper in my pocket. Hair swaying around my shoulders and boots clicking on the pavement, I glide across the lot with a subtle sway in my hips.
When I approach the passenger door of the security car, the window immediately rolls down. I lean in and fold my arms on the frame, giving the early-twenties security guard an unhindered view of cleavage.
Blue eyes zero in, hooded and captivated.
“Holy hell,” he whispers. “Where did you come from? Because one thing’s for certain, you ain’t from around here.”
“Evening, handsome.” I trap my bottom lip between my teeth and let it slowly slide free. “Want some company?”
“I could never turn down a pretty thing like you.” His gaze jumps to Lorne’s truck, to the cameras on the building, and back to me. “But I’m not supposed to let people on the property.”
“Aww, shoot.” I straighten and hook a thumb beneath the waistband of the cut-offs, inching them so low it leaves little to the imagination. “I’m in a bit of a predicament and could really use some help from a strong, strapping man like yourself.”
The sounds of his breaths grow deeper, faster. A moment later, the door unlocks with a victorious click.
I climb into the car.
The moment Raina disappears inside the dark car, my stomach knots. Restlessness grips my legs. My body temperature rises, and I feel like my insides are shaking.
My anxiousness is completely unwarranted. The security guard is such a skinny little twat she could swat the air and knock him over.
But I don’t like it. I hate that she’s alone with him.
I hate that I hate it.
Twisting the dream catcher pendant on my wrist, I probe the surrounding fields and vacant roads. My foot bounces, and I squeeze the back of my neck, unraveling by the second.
Blowing out a series of short breaths, I try to gain control and ignore the car that obscures her. But my gaze crosses the lot without my permission, straining to make out the dark interior.
What the almighty fuck is she doing in there? She wouldn’t have sex with him. Not for something as menial as keeping a lookout for John Holsten.
But there are other things she could offer in exchange for the guard’s cooperation.
A growl rips from my throat, and I reach for the handle to shove the door open.
Across the lot, Raina emerges from the car, hits the door closed with her hip, and struts her ass back to the truck.
Her glossy black hair shines beneath the glow of the lighting poles. Her tits jiggle in the gap of the flannel shirt, and her long legs carry her with a seductive, defiant air.
She’s breathtaking, spellbinding, built head to toe from earth, wind, and handcrafted sin.
She slides into the truck and buckles up, her expression closed off and shoulders tight. “Where to next?”
“What happened?” I bow across the seat, grinding my jaw with built-up tension.
“It’s all good. He’ll call—”
“What did you do?”
Her gaze flicks upward, as if seeking patience. Then she claps those huge brown on eyes on me. “I let him feel me up.”
My vision clouds, and my hands clench into burning fists. “Over or under the shirt?”
“Under.” She juts her chin.
I seethe. I growl. I harden in places I shouldn’t, as violent boiling outrage steams from every pore in my body. I want to grab her throat, maul her mouth, and wail on her ass until it’s red and swollen.
How could she so flippantly let a man grope her? After the brutality she suffered with John, shouldn’t she be running in the other direction?
How does she not understand why something like this would piss me off?
Fuck, I don’t even understand it. I’m tempted to shove her out of the truck and drive to the nearest liquor store. I need a drink and some goddamn peace.
A ringing phone breaks through my haze, and I follow her line of sight to the device on the seat between us.
“That’s Ford.” She glances at the car on the other side of the lot.
Ford is the little boob-grabbing fuck?
I crack my neck, my thoughts swimming in blood. “That’s not a name. It’s a goddamn truck.”
“Do you mind?” She points at the chirping phone and snatches it without waiting for my answer.
“Hello?” A smile curls her demon lips. “Yeah, it’s me.” She tilts her head, listening, then releases a husky laugh. “You, too, honey. Now don’t forget to tell your boys to keep an eye out—”