Nick popped open his newspaper and pointed his gaze to the headlines, but his eyes slid over the words. He hadn't asked her who she called the night before, even though the desire to make sure it wasn't someone who could bring down his operation burned at him like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He hadn’t even had Alan run the number.
Sophia had a point. He’d demanded trust from her, but showed her very little in return. But how the hell else was he supposed to make sure this went off without a hitch? She might not realize it, but a small mistake here could cost them both their lives.
He dropped his hands and the paper they held in his lap and stared out at the woman. She was counting cash now, and the old man had disappeared from Nick's view.
Guilt pushed at him, and it was getting difficult to keep it at bay. He was doing the right thing. The end did justify the means in this situation. He'd be getting a killer off the streets if they could bring in Ferry, and the small risk to her—and himself—was worth that risk. Hell, it wasn't his fault that she'd gotten herself wrapped up in Ferry's life and criminal dealings.
A small voice niggled at him that her being here now was his fault. And he'd lied to her to do it. But hell, even if Ferry hadn't found her yet, he would have eventually.
Liar.
Nick cursed and snapped the paper back up.
A few late-in-the-day travelers joined him in the covered bench area before boarding their buses. He noticed Sophia actually had a few customers come into the video store. At three o’clock, Nick moved from his position on the bus bench to a pizzeria two-doors down from the video store. He couldn’t watch her from the restaurant, but from his outside table, he could watch the people entering and exiting the store.
At ten after six, she stepped out of the store and waved goodbye to the owner. Albert Wilson. The man had an old rap sheet longer than Darrell Ferry’s, but nothing in the last two decades, and nothing violent. Despite his rocky past, Sophia seemed more relaxed in that old video store than anywhere he’d seen her yet.
He followed her at a safe distance. The farther she walked, the more she drew into herself, pulling her jacket in tight and wrapping her arms around her chest. The inexplicable urge to get closer so he could make sure she was safe, pulled at him. He kept his distance.
The exact moment Sophia noticed the women hit him like a brick. She exploded in a flurry of movement and sound. Yelled greetings, screams of happy shock, and then hurried chatter far too fast for a normal man to have comprehended, even if he’d been close enough to listen in.
After a few moments of chatting, mostly the other women at Sophia, Sophia pointed at her work, and the women nodded. The girls disbursed, and Sophia continued her walk to their apartment building.
She was so skittish. And no wonder, with a guy like Darrell probably looking for her.
A pang of pity hit him, and he brushed it off. His business wasn’t going to be running for much longer if he didn’t bring this guy in. Using Sophia wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity.
Humidity pressed at her, making it difficult to breathe. She crouched behind the bar. She was supposed to have gone home, but she’d stayed. Why had she stayed?
She was afraid to blink, couldn't move, trapped.
It all felt sickeningly familiar.
Through a small gap in her hiding spot, she could make out only a small line of the scene before her. Darrell, her boyfriend, held a baseball bat in one hand, and his cell phone in the other.
A man, down on his knees, cringed with fear before him.
Darrell shouted, but she couldn't make out the words. He screamed at the man. Showed him something on the cell phone. Shook the bat. A string of profanities.
Without warning, Darrell swung the bat. The thick wood slammed into the other man's shoulder with a loud pop. The man cried out, gripping his shoulder. Begging Darrell to leave him alone.
To let him live.
She closed her eyes tight and tried not to hear the noises. The words. The sound of the bat hitting the man over and over again. She tried not to listen as the cries turned to grunts then to only the sound of wood hitting something wet and unmoving.
A cry caught in her throat, and the smallest noise escaped her.
She stopped breathing, stopped thinking. As if Darrell could hear her thoughts his attention turned toward her, eyes searching.
The room went silent. Only Darrell's haggard breathing broke the quiet.
“Who's there?” he demanded. “Come out, fucker.”
He knew she was there. What could she do?
Dread came crashing into her. It was only a matter of time before he found her. She could hear the foot steps, and felt the humidity in the room increase. He moved closer, and she could barely suck in enough air to stay upright. This was it. She screamed.
“It's okay. Sophia, it's okay. You're safe.”
Her eyes snapped open. The nightmare’s hold on her broke.
Typically someone just telling her she was safe—a male someone besides—made her feel the exact opposite. But something in the gruff, growly voice that spoke to her was familiar. And it didn't set off alarm bells in her head.
“Nick?” Her voice was soft in the dark, fearful. She hated that.
“I'm here. You're safe,” he said again.Then he pulled her into his arms.
For a long moment, she leaned against his warm, hard body. She took in a deep breath of air, inhaling his masculine scent. God, it felt good. So good to let someone else hold her, to let someone else tell her that things would be okay. That she was safe.
But it wasn't real.
Still fighting her desire to stay right where she was in his warm arms, she pulled back slightly, just enough to make out some of the chiseled features of his face in the darkness. His expression was hidden from her, but she could feel his concern. Ebbing from him like some kind of psychic connection. She shook her head
“Bad dream?” He smoothed her hair with his hand.
She didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to talk about anything, right now. She just wanted to forget. To feel that safety again. Without thinking about it, she pressed her lips against his and kissed him.
A moment's hesitation—she'd surprised him—and then his hesitation dissipated. He was kissing her back. His mouth moved against hers, hard and confident. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she opened for him.
Fear still clinging to her, the powerful emotion twisted into passion at his touch. She found herself climbing his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. Tying herself to him with limbs and hair and tongue.
Nick felt it too. It was evident the way he touched her, wrapping his fingers in her hair, forcing her to stay in place while he devoured her mouth. The way his cock was hard as a rock, pressed against her most sensitive place.
God, he felt amazing against her.
A fiery passion raged through her, the likes of which she had never felt before. In the back of her mind, she knew that it wasn't just him, that she was channeling her fear into desire. But she didn't give a fuck. She wanted this, now She needed a release from the memory that had haunted her for months. Needed him. Needed this.
And then suddenly it all stopped. Nick pulled away, his tight grip on her hair ensuring she didn't continue to kiss him, either.
“We can't do this,” he said, trying to disentangle himself from her, gently.
At his words, she stopped fighting to get closer to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away. “What?” She couldn't manage another word. Her brain was still catching up with the giant shift that had just happened in her world.
“This isn't right,” he said gently, still holding her close. “I'd be taking advantage.”
Confusion twisted in her brain. “So? Take advantage. I'm offering.”
A harsh laugh escaped him, but the sound had no humor in it. “God, if I could. You have no idea how much I’d love to.” With that, he finished disentangling himself from
her.
She didn't fight but didn't help either. Her mind refused to wrap around what was happening. What kind of man declined to take a willing woman that he was obviously attracted to? She couldn't wrap her brain around it.
“You don't want me?” It was the only answer brain could come up with, she hated that the words came out a choked sob.
He stood, then pulled her close, her head against his chest. “I want you. Never doubt that.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I'm sorry.” And then he was gone.
Sophia flopped on the bed, mind buzzing, and body still on fire. She tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
5
Light, just coming up over the horizon, peeked into the window. Nick woke with a start, for half a second holding onto hope that the reason for his panic had been a dream.
No such luck.
What the fuck had he been thinking? Going into Sophia's bedroom had been a stupid decision. He had no business in there. No business comforting her. No business holding her. Had no fucking business kissing her.
But damn. What a kiss.
After spending only a few days with the outwardly slight but inwardly fierce woman, he'd seen there was a great deal of passion inside of her. Sure, mostly he'd witnessed sparks of anger, but he'd sensed the desire as well. He'd have to have been a moron not to be attracted to her, not to think about her pretty lips the next time he fisted his cock in the shower. But that’s where it should have ended.
Yet when he'd heard her scream, he hadn't been able to help himself. Even after it became evident that she was alone.
Thank God it had only been a nightmare. But fuck him if his comfort hadn't turned to something else. He could blame Sophia — after all, she'd been the one to kiss him. But it wasn't her fault. If she hadn’t made a move, he probably would have. Damn him if he hadn't enjoyed her touch more than he'd enjoyed anything else in a very long time.
It couldn't happen again.
Forcing the memory to the back of his mind, Nick got up, groaning at the rigid hard-on that thinking about her had spurred. A quick shower, shave, and brush of his teeth, and he was ready to go. Yet he still had no idea what to say when he saw Sophia.
Fuck this awkward shit. They weren’t in high school.
Nick walked into the kitchen. Sophia was already dressed and showered as well, and he wondered if she'd ever gone back to sleep after he’d left her in the middle of the night. Her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, and with the smock over her jeans and T-shirt, she looked ready for work.
She eyed him levelly, revealing none of the emotion she might be feeling below the surface. “Good morning.”
“Hey,” he said. Hell, maybe there was no emotion boiling below the surface of the woman sitting across from him. Maybe she just didn't give a damn. Maybe it had just been a kiss to her.
What the fuck was he thinking? He shook his head. It was just a kiss to him, too.
“Off to work early?” he asked. According to her schedule, she wasn’t due in for nearly an hour.
“Yup,” she said, then drank the milk from her cereal bowl. She looked young when she did that, almost innocent. But she wasn't that young, and she wasn't innocent. He had to remember that.
Nick followed her to work, keeping a safe distance, him doing his best to look like he wasn't watching her. He had experience at that—both as a bounty hunter and a cop—and yet he struggled. It was hard to tear his eyes away from Sophia.
It was just the danger level—and the way that she seemed so apart from the normal criminal world he dealt with. It wasn't because he could hardly tear his eyes away from her sensual form. Definitely not because he worried if he glanced away for a moment she could disappear before he looked back. Certainly not because he was starting to care about her.
Dammit.
She arrived at work for her short, five-hour shift. Nick found a spot nearby—sitting at a table across the street at the café. He had his tablet and a good old-fashioned newspaper. Tomorrow, he'd drag out his laptop. That way he could work for hours, or pretend to work on his computer, while gathering little to no notice.
While Sophia worked, Nick checked his emails. There was a new one from his computer whiz business partner, Alan, letting him know that nothing had popped on Darrell Ferry as of yet. And asking if Nick needed him to run anything else specifically.
Nick typed back that he was good, then hesitated. Slowly, he deleted what he'd written. Then typed a quick note.
Get me everything you can dig up on Sophia Scott. Dig deeper than we did before.
It was a bitch of a thing to do. They’d already gotten quite a bit of information about her when they started looking for her. When he'd realized that she might be part of the key to digging Darrell out of his hiding spot. But Alan could find out much more. More than Nick needed to know for the sake of the hunt. Probably more than he had a right to.
He couldn't bring himself to take the email back. To tell Alan never mind.
For the rest of the late morning and early afternoon, Nick skimmed his paper while keeping the door of the store in his peripheral vision.
At five till two, Sophia stepped out the door, smiling and calling out something to someone inside. A goodbye, maybe. When she turned back, he caught a glimpse of her wide smile.
Irrational jealousy twisted in his stomach. Not for her talking to someone else, but for that smile. God, the woman was beautiful when she looked happy. As far as he could tell, it was a rare sight. Certainly, one she'd hardly afforded him. And never once one so genuine, so full of life.
He pushed away the emotion and got up from the bus bench where he’d moved to after leaving the cafe. What the fuck was he doing? Mooning over a potential criminal?
Unable to answer his own question, he followed Sophia home. Only letting her get out of his sight once or twice. Even then, his heart rate picked up, until he got her in his sights again. This was stupid. He was going to fuck the whole operation up if he wasn't careful.
He shook himself mentally. No, he didn't have any real emotion about Sophia Scott. Sure, maybe he was getting to know her a little bit—well enough to place her in the real person category in his mind rather than strictly in the means to an end category. But he didn't care about her.
Okay, maybe he cared a little.
Nick closed the apartment door behind him. Sophia was leaning on the other side of the kitchen counter, facing the door and chomping on Doritos. The bag was almost gone.
“You sure like your chips,” he observed.
“Not usually.” She glared at him. “I'm only not throwing these at you because I want to eat them, and I doubt you'd replace them if I managed to hit you in the head.” Annoyance coated her tone, not quite anger but close. “Someone has upended my life and now I'm stress eating. So yeah, I like my fucking Doritos right now, okay? Is that all right with you?”
Okay, maybe she was angry. He held his hands up in mock submission. “Little touchy today, aren't we?”
She didn't grace that with a reply. Instead, she shot him a dirty look, and then turned to the fridge and grabbed a pop. She didn't offer him one. Not that he expected her to.
“Look, I think that things”—he avoided the word kiss like the plague—“have happened that threw us off our game a little bit here. Let me take you out to dinner—somewhere on the other side of town so we don’t risk someone from your old circle seeing us. We'll have a couple drinks, have a couple laughs. Get back on the right foot.”
She laughed, and the sound was callous . “I'm not about to let you wine and dine me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Her frown deepened. “I'm not going to fall for some guy again like a damn idiot. Especially not a cop.”
“Ex-cop,” he said, automatically. The way that she'd said cop, with such a disgusted tone, got under his skin. “And yeah, better to fall for a felon.” He shook his head. “What the hell are we even arguing about? I'm not t
rying to wine and dine you, and the last fucking thing I want is for you to fall for me.”
“Then what the hell do you want?”
“I just offered to buy you a damn dinner. Don't read any more into it than that.” He crossed his arms, glaring right back at her.
She leaned against the counter, watching him for a long moment, evaluating. “Fine. But no touchy-feely crap.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.” He winked.
She threw the bag of chips at his head, after all.
Sophia didn't entirely trust Nick's motives in asking her to dinner. But, she kinda had to live with the guy, at least for the near future. And she was relying on him to keep her safe. Granted, both of their motives with the arrangement were mercenary in nature, but it still benefited them to get along.
Wisely, Nick had picked a place on the north side of town. A restaurant she'd never been to. The spot was unlikely to be frequented by anyone in her old circle. And, also to his credit, the food was pretty basic and the restaurant not terribly romantic. Chinese buffet.
Maybe it was just a peace offering. She hoped so. …Or did she?
The waiter, host, whatever he was, didn't seem to speak much English. But he seated them at a table by the window and directed them to the buffet. Then he disappeared into the kitchen in search of hot tea. She and Nick filled their plates quickly. Most of her plate was taken up by coconut curry and chicken fried rice. Nick's plate looked to be almost entirely filled with beef and broccoli.
The tea had magically appeared while they were gone, and Nick poured them both a tiny cup. “How did your day go?”
“It was fine,” she snapped.
He gave her a look over the table. “Did I miss something?”
She mentally struggled for a long moment. To be truthful and vulnerable, or to be her normal self, wary of letting him see anything real? “I’m sorry. Guess I'm just a little on edge.”
Bounty and Bait: Bounty Hunters, Book One Page 4