Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

He had yet to look at another person in the room. Deck stared at him, the police officer who’d been telling him he couldn’t ‘go in there’ was behind him, Vic was in the living room talking to Ernie and Officer Rick had his hand close to his hip where his gun sat.

Connor stalked toward me.

Officer Rick stiffened, “Who are—”

Deck was quick to interrupt, “He’s the one.”

I had no idea if Rick responded or what, because Connor had reached me and he was all I could focus on.

He stepped on the first stair, bent and took my hand and pulled me to my feet. Then we were moving down the hallway toward the kitchen. I looked back at Deck and his eyes followed us.

This was exactly what he planned, Connor showing up.

Shit, Connor was going to kill him when he learned the truth.

He led me into the bathroom that was next to the kitchen, shut the door and locked it. I was pretty sure a flimsy bathroom lock wasn’t going to stop any one of those men out there if they wanted in.

Connor’s hand slipped from mine and ran through his hair. His hair was wet and tangled and had left wet splotches on his grey T-shirt. He smelled like soap as if he’d just come out of the shower.

He stared at the floor as he walked to the end of the bathroom then back again. It was only three strides and he did it several times. His face was hidden because he kept it low, but the tension in his body was very obvious. The balloon had refilled and was about to burst.

I stood with my back against the door. Waiting. This was what Connor needed. Me to wait. Me to be patient. Me to be calm. Because it was everything he wasn’t anymore.

But he was here. The question was would he stay?

“Jesus Christ, Alina.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. His hands curled into fists at his sides and his breathing was ragged. “You’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but—”

“Fuck,” he muttered, cutting me off. “Fuck.”

Then his face softened and the anger dissipated as he moved into me, his hands cupping my face, thumbs stroking back and forth on my cheeks. “I was at the hotel,” he murmured. “I was in the shower while you were being shot at.”

Even if I had a response, which I didn’t, he didn’t give me a chance as he kissed me. I tasted mint as his mouth moved over mine, gentle and warm, but just as consuming. He cradled my head between his hands, mouths and tongues melding together. He said my name a few times against my lips before he deepened it. I sagged into him, arms moving to loop around his neck, fingers in his hair, drawing him closer.

Connor broke the kiss then rested his forehead against mine. “I heard the police scanner say your address and gunshots. Fuck, I thought you were dead, baby. I thought you were dead and it scared the shit out of me.” He had a police scanner? That’s why Deck had the police involved. He knew Connor’s moves. His hand stroked my hair. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left that’s keeping me sane.”

“You won’t lose me,” I whispered. “I’m okay. I was never in any danger.”

At that he pushed back, brows knitted. “Someone put bullets in a fuckin’ house you were in. It sure as hell was dangerous.”

Oh, boy. He was getting revved up again and that probably was a bad combination with Deck waiting to talk to him and finding out this was Deck’s plan to get him here. “Connor?” He was leaning on the counter, hands gripping the edge, head hanging. “You’re here.”

He snorted as his eyes met mine. “Of course I’m fuckin’ here, Alina. You were shot at.”

I continued, “You said it was over. I thought you left.”

He straightened and came toward me, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “You. Were. Shot. At.” He leaned in and briefly kissed me then said, “We’ll leave. I’ll get you away from here.”

Whoa. That was impossible for a number of reasons, one of them being a bunch of commandos in the house. “Connor, no.”

“We’ll get on my bike and leave right now. Start over somewhere else.”

Go? Start over? I had friends now. A job. I loved this house, not to mention that it was a horrible idea.

I wasn’t running. I didn’t run. “I can’t leave, Connor. I like it here.” Then I added, “I have a job and I like your friends and they’re my friends now, too.”

“Fuck.” He strode to the opposite side of the washroom, faced the wall and pounded both fists into it, although not hard enough to break the plaster. “Fuck.”

I swallowed, throat tight as I waited for him to decide what to do next. It felt like hours before he finally turned around. God, his eyes swirled with so many emotions, I didn’t know how he was feeling.