Carson (Dangerous Doms 4)

I scream when my assailant reaches for a gun and cocks it. But this is not Carson’s first battle. With near effortless ease, he knocks the gun out of the man’s hand, draws a blade, and before I know what’s happening, he’s sliced the man’s throat.

Cut. His. Throat.

Blood pours onto the ground, so much my stomach churns with nausea, bile rising in my throat.

I cover my mouth with my hands. This isn’t happening. He didn’t just do this. He didn’t just take the life of a man right here, on the streets of Stone City.

“Get over here,” he growls at me. On trembling knees, I walk to him, glancing to the left and right to be sure no one else has possibly seen what happened. He’s kneeling beside the body, checking for a pulse. “You alright?”

I nod. “I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not fine at all.

“Out of the way,” he orders, gesturing for me to move. And when I don’t run to obey, still frozen in place, he glares. “Now!”

I quickly jump out of his way.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“Oh, God.”

He rolls the body, then shoves it, blood mixed with rain dampening the earth. I watch as the body of my assailant soars downward into the creek below. Vomit rises in my throat. I turn, bend, and retch onto the ground.

He’s holding my hair, at my side, oddly soothing at a time like this.

“It was self-defense,” he says softly. “And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I’m standing, wiping my hand across my mouth. We’re both soaked through, drenched to the bone. He’s got one arm around my waist, and it’s odd, there’s no one here but the two of us, the blood of a dead man on our hands.

I feel as if I’m going to be sick again. I make myself breathe in through my nose and out again, in and out in a rhythmic motion to clear my head.

“Where are you parked?”

I gesture wildly toward the place where I’m parked.

“No guard?”

Jesus fucking Christ. Is that all they care about?

I shake my head once. No.

He doesn’t say a word as he leads me away. Not to my car, but his. He opens the passenger door and shoves me in.

“Buckle.”

He’s on autopilot, issuing commands, and I don’t think to question him. It isn’t the time.

I do what he says.

By the time he comes back to his seat, he’s on his phone.

“Aye,” he says. “I’ll send you the exact GPS location. Take her car home, tell no one.”

Finally, he hangs up the phone.

“Who was that?”

He’s soaking wet, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His white t-shirt’s stuck to his chest, and his jeans are sodden as well.

“Lachlan.”

Great.

“How did you know I was there?” As grateful as I am for him appearing so quickly, and when I needed him, I want to know how.

“I was there on business,” he says. “Came out just in time.”

But is it the truth? It seems a little too convenient.

“ A better question, Megan, is why you were there? Thought you were at work today?”

“I was going to…” my voice trails off. I don’t want to lie anymore. I don’t. “They called me and said they didn’t need me. I needed a little time alone, so I just went for a drive.”

“Just went for a drive,” he repeats. “In Stone City?”

I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say.

“Alone?”

Still, I don’t respond.

He holds the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. “Looked like he was homeless. Possibly no blowback from the O’Gregors.”

Rival mafia who own Stone City.

I can still see the blood, the vacant eyes. I close my own eyes and nod. “I know.”

“And you were here because…” he waits for me to fill in the blank. I don’t.

He finishes for me. “You wanted to take a ride without your guard on you.”

I don’t know how to respond. As much as I’m tired of them giving me such strict restrictions, it’s probably time for me to admit I do need the guard.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I really am.”

He clenches his jaw and stares straight ahead. There are bright red specks of blood along his knuckles and on his arms. I shiver.

“We both need a shower and clean clothes,” I whisper.

“You need more than that,” he mutters.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His voice hardens. “Really, Megan? You need your arse whipped for that,” he says tightly. “I’m half tempted to bring you back to my place so I can do it properly.”

This isn’t the sexy type of punishment he promises. But I don’t fight him. I don’t argue or tell him off for being so bossy. I feel little and small, because he’s right. It was stupid of me to run off to Stone City without a guard. And I’m not an errant teen anymore. I’m a full-grown woman who ought to know better.