Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

At his quick frown, she reached up and brushed a kiss across his rain-wet lips. Only to be caught totally unprep

ared by the sudden flaring of heat and her own intense need.

He groaned slightly and splayed his hand across her back, holding her close as she deepened the kiss. Their bodies molded together, and heat trembled through her veins. When the tremulous ache began in her heart, she knew, really knew, that she was more than just attracted to this man. God help her, she was falling in love with someone she barely knew.

His hand moved from her back to her hair—then stilled. “You’re bleeding,” he said, pulling away.

She glanced at his hand. It was smeared red. She frowned and touched the back of her head. It felt tender and sore. Then she looked at her fingertips. They were bloody.

“So I am.” She felt absurdly calm and wondered why. “I probably opened the cut when I fell off Hank’s shoulder.”

Jon swore, then swung her up into his arms. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”

She nodded and rested her head against his chest as he ran toward the nearest warehouse. The warmth of his arms and the strength and gentleness with which he held her were both comforting and arousing. Or maybe it was just the hit on the head affecting her senses.

He kicked the door open, then gently sat her down on a large crate. He checked the wound on her head, muttered something about a doctor, then squatted in front of her. “That cut might need stitches. How did you get it?” He took her hands again, rubbing them briskly.

She shivered, more from the force of his touch than from the chill beginning to creep through her body. “I think it happened when he hit me.”

He paused, his fingers tightening around hers momentarily. “He hit you?” he repeated, his voice oddly devoid of any emotion.

She nodded. The little man with the drums was starting up in her head again, and it hurt.

“The bastard has to pay,” he muttered. He glanced past her, listening intently. She could hear a distant wail of sirens, growing closer with every breath.

“Don’t move.” He rose and ran back out into the wind and the rain. After a few minutes he returned and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

“Maddie?” He shook her shoulders slightly, forcing her to look him in the eyes again.

Such nice eyes, she thought with a smile. Eyes that she’d love to wake up to in the morning—all the mornings—for the rest of her life.

“Maddie, are you listening to me?”

She smiled again. “No.”

He frowned and suddenly looked more worried. “I said, I called the police before I attacked Hank. A man called Mack is in charge. His men have Evan. You’ll be safe with them until I get back.”

Evan—lord, she’d forgotten all about him! Guilt washed through her, thick and strong, and momentarily cleared the fuzziness from her mind. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s in better condition than you are.” His gaze ran past her again. “Mack, get some medical help, will you?”

His gaze came back to hers. Anger and worry burned deep in the wild blue depths of his eyes. Her heart did an odd flip-flop. She reached out, touching his full lips with her fingertips.

“Let the police handle it,” she said, suddenly realizing he was going after Hank. That he would make Hank pay for the hurt he’d inflicted on her.

“I can’t.” He reached up and took her hand, gently kissing her fingertips. “Hank and Eleanor are my field of expertise. I’ll handle them.”

“You can’t go alone. Let me come.”

“Ah, Maddie, you continue to amaze me,” he whispered. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his mouth hot and yet so gentle against her own.

Heat whispered through her soul and made her heart ache. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. It was scary to realize just how far she’d fallen.

“Don’t go,” she whispered after a moment.

“I have no choice.” He kissed her forehead, then pulled back and glanced toward the doorway. “Mack, this is Madeline Smith. Maddie, Mack’s from the FBI.” He rose and squeezed her hand. Then his eyes became cold, so cold. “He’ll look after you until I get back.”

“Damn it, Barnett, just wait—” The big man cut his sentence short and frowned darkly as Jon disappeared through the doorway.