Hostile Territory (Blackbridge Security 1)

Chapter 21Deacon

“I can’t.” She shakes her head to emphasize her refusal.

“We can’t stay here,” I argue.

“I can’t go out there. Is it—is he still out there?”

“Mendoza is waiting for the coroner. He can’t move the body.”

She begins to tremble all over again. “You had to kill a man because of me.”

“He was a bad guy, Anna.”

“He’s still dead.”

I hate that she won’t look up. I miss her honey-colored eyes on me. Fuck, this night went to shit incredibly fast. I’ll never tell her that the douchebag dead in the hall had to go through me to get to her. Quite literally in fact, because I was standing at the fucking bedroom door contemplating coming back inside to pick up where we left off when the hotel room door fucking opened.

“Dead bad guys don’t matter.”

“He’s dead,” she says again. Those two words have been on repeat like even though she knows it’s true it still doesn’t seem real. “You killed him.”

She’s a civilian, and people who don’t do the work I do are affected differently by seeing shit like dead people with a bullet hole in their heads. Just another fucking piece of scum off the street as far as I’m concerned.

“Wasn’t the first, won’t be the last,” I assure her, but my words aren’t calming. If she shakes much more, she’s going to wiggle herself right out of the chair onto the damn floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

“If you weren’t here…” her voice trails off, and I know she isn’t meaning for there to be accusation in her tone, but I feel the disappointment in myself to the bone. I should’ve left one of my damn guys here every night last week. I didn’t for selfish reasons. She’s fucking charmed Flynn and Wren. I know neither guy would lay a hand on her, but when she showed up at the BBS offices two weeks ago, I told myself that very same thing. Yet, I was the one pinning her to the wall just a couple of hours before that dickhead tried to come in here and hurt her.

I couldn’t leave my guys alone with her overnight because I’d have to kill one of them if they laid a hand on her. Seeing Flynn with his arms around her crying form earlier nearly upped the body count in this fucking suite.

“I was here,” I soothe from two feet away. Touching her would be a mistake. Things could’ve ended differently tonight had I not been torn between going back to her and getting the fuck out of there. I can’t even think what would’ve happened if I didn’t first walk away from her. If I’d taken things as far as my body was begging me to, I would’ve been several feet from my gun rather than standing in the hallway with it strapped to my hip. I would’ve been lost in her, lost in her smell, her taste, the sweet slick heat of her—

“I won’t leave you alone again.”

With that promise, she lifts her head, her eyes searching mine to determine if I’m just placating her or telling her the truth.

“I won’t leave you unprotected again,” I amend.

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are, bab—” I pull my hand back before it reaches her cheek and snap my mouth closed.

Jesus, does tonight have me completely fucked up.

“We need to get out of here.”

“I can’t walk out there.” She inches back in the chair, all the coaxing I’ve managed the last twenty minutes ruined with my insistence.

It won’t look well if I have to sling her over my shoulder and haul her ass out of here. Mendoza is still pissed at me for some shit that went down a couple years ago, but hey, if he didn’t believe me when I told him I didn’t know that chick was his sister, that’s on him. The world’s too fucking small if you ask me.

“I’ll carry you, love.”

My spine stiffens to the point I feel more made of steel and concrete than flesh and bones at Flynn’s offer. If I thought I could touch her and not be affected, I would’ve suggested that from the jump, but contact with her skin makes my body go haywire.

My friend isn’t offering to help her to rile me up. I mean he’s not above it, but he knows how important it is to get her out of here. The dead guy in the hall isn’t connected to the Russians other than being hired for the hit on Anna. The idiot had Petrovich’s name and number in his fucking pocket, and Wren was on top of gathering intel long before the cops managed to show up, but pissed gangbangers aren’t as willing to take their time with retaliation as other criminal organizations. They’re the shoot first ask questions later kind of guys. We’ve already been in this suite long enough that anyone waiting for that piece of shit is already growing worried about where his guy is at. We should’ve been out of here half an hour ago.