Bound In Death (Bound 5)

She wanted to see his eyes.

She was terrified to see them.

Jane lifted her chin, lifted that tray, and scurried through the crowd. It was a Friday night, and Friday nights were always busy. It was Miami—a city known for non-stop parties. Tourists, locals—everyone piled in on Friday nights.

It was only slightly past ten PM; the night was young. She wouldn’t be escaping from this place until close to six that morning.

Bodies brushed against her. Hands that were a little too friendly tried to slow her down. Offers, invitations were thrown out to her. She ignored them, hurrying toward table four.

Only she didn’t make it to the table.

She walked right into him.

He shouldn’t have been able to get across the bar that fast. But he had.

Her tray bounced against him. Beer sloshed, and she had to do a frantic grab to make sure that the whole try didn’t go crashing to the floor.

Music beat around them. Voices rose and fell. Laughter filled the bar.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His voice was deep. Rumbling. Tinged with the faintest of accents.

Her goosebumps got even bigger.

Look at him.

She made her gaze rise. Her eyes locked on his.

No, not on his. On the sunglasses he was wearing. Um, sunglasses, in a bar? At night? What was up with that?

Her attention shifted to his face. To the hard, square line of his jaw. A jaw that was clenched. His lips—sensual, a little cruel—were pressed into a thin line.

Her heart slammed into her chest. Breathing deeply got incredibly difficult. “Uh, if you’ll just get a table…” Before they all filled up, “one of the other waitresses will be with you in a few moments.” Because she was not taking his table. Mr. Sunglasses could just keep on walking right past her.

He took the tray from her. Dropped it onto a nearby table.

“What the hell—” One of the frat boys at that nearby table began.

But the man with the dark hair, midnight black and so very thick, wasn’t paying the frat guy any attention. No, the stranger had stepped forward. He’d wrapped his hands around her arms and pulled her right against him.

“I’ve waited long enough.” Growled. Those words seemed more animal than man.

Her heart wasn’t racing right then—Jane could have sworn that it stopped completely.

Trouble.

Her gaze cast frantically around the bar. Hannah wasn’t looking her way. And where were the bouncers? They should be there to help with situations like this one. No one was supposed to mess with the staff.

Breathe, breathe. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Her heart began its mad thumping once more. “I think…” His voice had been a growl. Hers was a squeak. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.” And she pitied that poor woman.

His fingers tightened. Then he was moving—cutting his way right through the crowd and hauling her with him.

Finally, finally, Hannah glanced up and saw her being dragged across the bar. Hannah’s mouth dropped open in surprise even as her green eyes widened in alarm.

Yeah, Jane was feeling pretty dang surprised and alarmed, too.

Help me. Jane mouthed. Then she screamed it. But the music was pumping, the crowd was already shouting, and her scream did nothing.

She tried to twist out of the guy’s hold, but there was no give to him at all. He didn’t even seem to notice her struggles.

“Curtis! Sean!” Hannah yelled, calling out for the bouncers.

But her stranger had Jane at the back door. He shoved that door open and dragged her outside. The night air was hot. Thick.

She tried to pull away from him once more. Not happening. The guy’s grip was unbreakable. He was strongest thing that she’d ever seen.

He pushed her against the brick wall of the building. Caged her there. “You should have come to me. As soon as you were free.”

He was insane. “I’m not—”

His lips crashed down on hers. His kiss was wild, rough. Almost desperate.

She shoved her hands against his chest.

He didn’t step back.

Jane sank her nails into him.

He growled and just kissed her harder.

All she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart. Too fast. Shaking her body.

He wasn’t letting her go. His kiss—she felt like he was consuming her.

Fear beat at Jane. So much fear.

Where was Curtis? Sean? She tried to scream again, but his mouth muffled the sound. Fine, maybe she’d just bite the jerk.

Only, before she could, his head lifted. Finally. Lifted and—

He licked her neck. “Missed you. So f**kin’ much.” His accent had deepened. What was that? Irish? It sounded like an accent she’d heard on TV once. “Never gonna let you go again.”

“Yeah, buddy, you will.” Sean’s sharp voice. “You’ll be letting her go right now.”

She sagged against the wall.

“You’ll let her go,” another hard male voice. Yes! That was Curtis talking! She recognized his familiar Alabama twang. “Or, mister, that’ll sure enough be the last mistake you ever make.”

Jane sucked in a deep, desperate breath.

Her stranger—still with his sunglasses on—gave a rough sigh. “You don’t want to get involved in this,” he said to the men. He didn’t even bother glancing over at them.

“Yeah, we do.” Sean was adamant. “Jane there is our friend, and you need to get your damn hands off her.”

The man, who held her in a grip of steel, tensed. His head cocked, and he seemed to study her behind his sunglasses. “Jane.” He tasted the name, frowning. “No.”

She found her voice with a stutter. “Pl-please, let me go.”

His body locked, the muscles tensing even more against her.

“Let her go.” Curtis’s voice was harder than Sean’s, harder and even meaner. “Or I’ll taze your ass.”

The tazer was Curtis’s weapon of choice. He’d told her once that he didn’t like to get bloody unless he had to.

Blood made the ex-linebacker feel nauseous.

“Last chance,” Curtis snapped, his drawl thicker. People usually jumped when Curtis gave an order.

Very, very slowly, the stranger eased his grip on Jane.

She immediately ran from him and straight into Sean’s outstretched arms.

A growl rumbled in the air.

“What the f**k?” Sean muttered. He shoved her behind his broad back. She was so glad that Sean was there. Tall, tattooed, with his gleaming bald head and the bulging muscles that normally made even drunk men give him a clear path—he was a truly beautiful sight to her scared eyes right then.