Mr. Dangerous (The Dangerous Delaney Brothers Book 1)

by July Dawson

  "Green," I prompted, but Naomi was already easing up on the brake.

  She cleared her throat. Her words came out in a hoarse whisper. "I'm not that bad a driver, Rob. I know what green light, red light means."

  It was a shabby attempt at a joke, but it made me smile, aching with both pride and protectiveness. She was one brave girl.

  "Quiet," the guy said. "We're all going to stay calm and quiet and this is all going to be over soon."

  I nodded in agreement. Although it wasn’t going to end in a way that he would like.

  "Right here," the guy said, gesturing with the gun angrily. Unacceptable fucking trigger control. "Pull over."

  Belatedly, Naomi turned right into the deserted parking lot of a bank. I swayed against my seatbelt with the force of the turn, and then she braked awkwardly alongside the ATM.

  The guy in the back, who sounded young, in his early twenties, pulled his baseball cap lower over his face. "You get out of the car," he said to me. "I'll stay here with the girl. Make sure you come back."

  "All right," I agreed. I opened the passenger door and walked around the front of the car to the drive-up ATM. The small yellow light of the security camera watched me, but I knew it was not a live feed. That would be too helpful.

  I inserted my card and punched the buttons to withdraw the maximum amount from the ATM, wondering how many ATMs this guy planned to visit in one night. Without Naomi in the car, it would have been easy to dispatch the idiot. But I wasn't going to put Naomi at risk. I needed a way to get the guy out of the car.

  I slid back into the car, twisted in the passenger seat to offer the man the money. "You want this now?"

  "Yeah." The guy snatched it greedily out of my hands. "There's another ATM not far. Make the right at that first light."

  Naomi drove to a second ATM, and a third. I bided my time. Naomi was growing exhausted under the tension, struggling to listen to the man's directions while her adrenaline raced in fight-or-flight mode. But she was calm, even if she was clearly struggling to pay attention to traffic lights and road signs.

  When she glanced over at me, as we drove to the fourth ATM stop, I thought that I saw trust in her eyes. I gave her a hint of a smile in return. I was going to get us out of this mess. She could count on me for that, at least. Her hazel eyes were dry now, although her hands were still trembling. I wished I knew what was going on in her head.

  Meanwhile, our captor was starting to feel awfully laidback for someone with a gun and two hostages. I couldn't wait to take advantage of his complacency and hurt him for what he put Naomi through.

  At the fourth ATM, I went to the machine and stood in front of it for a second. I felt the rain mist against my jacket. This guy knew where all the ATMs were, which suggested he'd done some homework. He had to know there was a cap on daily withdrawals as well as individual ATM withdrawals. I took one long, slow deep breath before I returned to the car.

  I swung my door open and put my knee on the seat, wanting to move between the carjacker and Naomi in a hurry if this all went south. "Hey. The machine's not letting me withdraw. Says I'm over the max."

  "Not yet you aren't," the guy said.

  I shrugged. "I'll try again."

  "You, get out of the car," the guy said to Naomi, gesturing with the gun again. Didn't anyone teach these thugs gun safety?

  Naomi obediently opened the driver's side door and slipped out of the car. I was grateful the guy made the mistake of throwing open the passenger side door in irritation, getting down with the gun in his right hand as he gripped the door frame. Naomi was all the way on the other side of the car.

  I slammed into the guy. Get the gun, get the gun. My hand locked on it, making sure the barrel was turned skyward. I turned the man's wrist backward, and the guy released it involuntarily, trying to keep his wrist from breaking. I felt the metal barrel slide smoothly into my palm.

  I flipped the carjacker over my shoulder into the pavement, following it up with a quick, brutal kick that leveraged all my weight to put the guy down. The thug's head fell against the pavement. After all the time I'd waited, the fight itself was all over in a matter of seconds.

  "Oh my god," Naomi said from the other side of the car. I made sure the guy was out cold, checked him for other weapons, and then turned around, finally ready to comfort her.

  Naomi was already in the driver's seat again, her purse in her lap and her cell phone up to her ear. "We're at the Sun Bank. I don't remember what street this is on. Rob? Do you know?"

  I looked at her, sitting in the car again as cool as could be with 911, and wanted to laugh because I was so pleased with her. So relieved.

  Instead, remembering the street signs I'd watched with the part of my attention that wasn't on the unsteady carjacker, I said, "We're on Dudson."

  "Dudson," Naomi relayed.

  I joined her at the door of the car, and she held the phone away from her ear, turning on speakerphone. The 9-1-1- operator said, "I'll stay on the line with you until the police arrive."

  "Okay," Naomi said, setting the phone down in the cup holder. She looked at me, an unreadable look on her face.

  "Are you all right?"

  "I'm alive," she said, one corner of her mouth quirking up. I wanted to kiss that little quirk, an impulse that rose in stark contrast to our strange night.

  "I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," I promised.

  Still, with that unreadable smile, a long look she gave me from under her eyelashes. Impulsively, I leaned in towards her, feeling the heat between our bodies; she looked up at me uncertainly.

  "What are you thinking?"

  She shook her head, glancing away out the windshield. This close, I could smell the creamy scent of her shampoo. Her dark hair was wild around her face, as if she'd run her fingers through it in her anxiety, and I smoothed it with my palm. Almost involuntarily, she let her eyes drift shut, heavy lashes meeting her cheekbones, turning her face into my hand.

  Police sirens bleated in the distance, and two squad cars turned into the parking lot. Naomi's eyes snapped open.

  "It's going to be okay." I held a hand out to help her out of the car, and she took it reluctantly, sliding down from the driver's seat.

  I set the gun down on the hood of the car and took a few long steps back besides Naomi, lifting my hands to show the police empty palms. Naomi hesitated, then raised her hands above her shoulders.

  "No big deal. We want to make it easy for them," I assured her. "Let them know we're the good guys."

  "Are the police there?" the 9-1-1 operator asked.

  "Yes," Naomi said, a tremble in her voice. "We're standing outside the car."

  "It's all right," the 9-1-1 operator said. "You guys are safe. Everything is fine."

  But now that everything was fine, Naomi seemed to be falling apart. Her hazel eyes were suddenly pooling with tears, and she started to wipe her face, then put her hands back up in the air.

  "It's all right," I repeated, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. She was safe, and I wanted her to know she was safe. "It's all over."

  I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but two police officers joined us just then, taking possession of the gun, asking questions. Once the situation was calm, they took Naomi over to one of the squad cars to get her version of the story while I gave my own statement. The Suburban was taken into evidence for the time being.

  "This," I said, as we rode back to the hotel in a police car, "Is not the romantic evening I'd planned."

  Naomi laughed, a little bit too heartily, her face still blotchy from her earlier tears. "I told you, no romance, no flirting. This is what happens when you don't listen to me."

  "Fluke carjackings? Well, that is scary."

  "We'll try to get your car back to you by tomorrow afternoon," the policeman who was driving promised. "Sorry for the trouble."

  "It's all right," I said. "I'm happy no one got hurt."

  "He got hurt," Naomi said.

  I felt a jolt. I wondered how mu
ch of the abrupt, bloody takedown of that carjacker Naomi had seen. I wanted to ask if she was afraid of me now.

  Instead, I said, "I bet our burgers are cold."

  "Let's go back to the hotel and order a pizza," she said. "You sure know how to treat a lady. We're like six hours into this date and I still haven't had a decent bite to eat."

  Back to her usual sharp self. I could’ve laughed in relief. "Oh, a date? You changed your tune on that one."

  "I have to call it a date," she said, "So I can tell all my girlfriends about the worst date ever."

  15

  Naomi

  I sat on the floor of the hotel room, my aching legs curled beneath me and my back pressed to the foot of the bed. "I'm going to need therapy after that," I said, already flipping through the TV channels with the remote control. Something to distract me from what had just happened. I wasn't sure I would ever sleep again.

  "You already needed therapy," Rob said. He flipped through the room service menu. "Not a lot of options. What do you like on your pizza? Besides not-seafood?"

  "Pepperoni."

  He picked up the phone and called in a room service order that was a whole lot longer than just pepperoni pizza. I wasn't going to object.

  "I'm not sure I ever want to leave this room," I said when he hung up the phone.

  Rob waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. I had never seen a man waggle his eyebrows before, but there was no denying waggling when I saw it. And it was still, bizarrely, sexy as hell, with those dark brows over those piercing blue eyes.

  I smiled. "You never quit, huh?"

  He sat next to me. When his broad shoulder touched mine, I felt a shiver run down my spine. "When I see something I want, I don't quit until I get it."

  "I don't know about that," I murmured.

  Rob started to ask a question, and I cut him off, suddenly exhausted. "I don't want to fight or insinuate or banter, Rob. I'm tired. It's been a long night."

  "All right," he said. "Just pizza, I promise. Do you want me to go? Give you some space?"

  "No.” The thought of Rob leaving made my heart rate speed. "I want you here. I'm still a little shaken."

  "But you'd like for me to be quiet?"

  I smiled at that. "I don't know. Seems like an awful lot to ask of you."

  "SEALs can be very stealthy," he assured me. "You won't even know I'm here."

  I breathed in his scent, the soap and the rich, pleasant smell of his pheromones. Forget he was there, hulking and masculine and protective? Not a freaking chance.

  I cleared my throat, not wanting to talk about the night and not able to think about anything else. "I'm sorry I forgot to lock the doors after you got out of the car. That I ruined our night."

  He twisted slightly to make eye contact with me, his blue eyes taking on an edge of exasperation. "You didn't do anything wrong. That carjacker did. And my night isn't ruined."

  "How could it not be? That was terrifying. I'm still shaking." I held out my hands, but they were traitorously still. "Well, I feel like I'm still shaking, anyway. I feel all wrung out."

  "That's normal," he reassured me. "Your adrenaline rush is gone and that makes you feel like shit. Always did for me, anyway."

  "Hard to believe anything gives you an adrenaline rush," I said. "You seemed pretty matter-of-fact with an armed asshole in the backseat."

  "I did not feel entirely calm, not with you in danger."

  "Well. We’re fine. Tomorrow we'll go see your dad, we'll get the Suburban back. Everything normal, just like we planned."

  "Naomi. You don't have to go right back to normal. It's okay to feel upset about what just happened."

  I laughed shakily. "Is the Navy SEAL telling me to stay in touch with my feelings?"

  "Just because I like to avoid mine doesn't mean I think it's healthy for everyone," he retorted. His blue eyes were warm with concern.

  I turned away. I felt so much more than residual fear and anxiety from the carjacking. I felt a sudden surge of lust, a desire for him that was reckless and embarrassing. I didn’t want him to see the heat in my eyes.

  I knew this was purely primal. All I had to do was talk myself through the desire to rip Rob’s clothes off and straddle him. I'd been afraid. Rob, with his powerful, athletic body and dangerous competence, seemed like he could protect me from anything. So now I wanted him. Even more than I had before.

  Rob sighed. "I'd planned to take you dancing after dinner. Try to teach you a few moves before the fundraiser."

  "I don't plan on dancing," I said. "I'm sure I'll be busy with the event."

  "You don't have to do everything yourself. I hired an event planner. Then you can enjoy it too."

  "Rob." At least exasperation with him felt safe and familiar after the unsettling night. "The point of a fundraiser is not to spend much money, so you can use the donations for the charity. Fund. Raiser. It's not just a big party."

  "I'm paying," he said. "And I'm paying for the caterer. My donations."

  "Why?"

  "Because I want your fundraiser to be a raging success. Because it's obviously important to you, crazy cat lady. And because I want you to enjoy something for once."

  "I enjoy lots of things," I said defensively.

  "Great. Well, you're going to enjoy the night of the fundraiser too."

  I was amused at how combative Rob sounded even when he was trying to be nice. This was another reason we could never date. What kind of future did two people have when they argued all the time?

  "So tell me," he said. "What else do you enjoy?"

  "What else do I enjoy? That sounds like an interview question." And a question that made me squirm.

  "If there are so many things, it should be easy for you to list them." His lips quirked up.

  Fine. Challenge accepted.

  "I like reading. As you obviously know. I like swimming, although I don't swim often. I don't want to go ocean swimming alone."

  "A wise choice," he said. "Why isn't there anyone for you to swim with?"

  "None of my friends want to go for a nice mile swim on a Sunday morning," I said, "For some reason."

  "I'd go on a nice mile swim with you."

  "I'm out of practice. You'd leave me in your wake."

  His eyes were intent on mine. "I wouldn't leave you."

  I noticed the day's shadow, dark scruff across his broad jaw, the soft pink of his lips.

  He certainly hadn't left me with that carjacker.

  Even when the guy had climbed into the backseat before I could hit the locks, even when I was terrified with the gun’s big barrel staring me down, I'd known Rob would come back. I had sat there with my hands frozen on the steering wheel, my fingers so stiff that I wasn’t sure I could even obey the man with the gun. Adrenaline had flooded through my body and made my legs ache to run. I’d thought frantically of Rob, Rob, Rob, coming back.

  I had tried to figure out a way to warn him before he got into the car, and at the same time, I had felt like once he came back, I would be safe.

  “I could’ve died tonight,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t let that happen.” His tone was confident.

  I shook my head slightly. If Rob hadn't been there, so cool and collected, so able, the evening would have unspooled in different, terrifying new directions. But then, if Rob hadn’t been there, I wasn’t sure that carjacker would have climbed into the Suburban. “Do you think he knew who you were?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that question too.” He rubbed his palm against his five o’clock shadow. His eyes were troubled. “Hopefully the police get an answer out of him.”

  “Maybe it was bad luck,” I said. “Our unlucky night.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. He turned that troubled gaze on me, those deep blue eyes full of pain despite the confident way he spoke. “I hate that you were in danger.”

  “I wasn’t happy about it myself.” I was trying to be funny, but my heart raced.

  “If I were a better man,�
�� he said softly, “I’d let you go. Back to your world, where you’re safe. I wouldn’t try to keep you near me.” As if to betray his words, he brushed back my hair from my face, tucking a rogue strand back behind my ear. The light touch of his fingers against my neck sent a wave of desire rushing through my body.

  “I’m sure I look like a mess.” I could barely catch my breath. Hoping he couldn’t tell, I ran my hands over my hair to pull it back into a ponytail. I coached myself: Whatever you do, Naomi, don’t look into those damnably gorgeous blue eyes.

  He brushed a finger over my shoulder. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "And as much as I might tease you, the way you're oblivious about it... it breaks my heart. You should know."

  "Rob," I whispered, wanting to reprove him for the compliment, but knowing he'd just argue with me more.

  "I think," he said, "I should tell you that you're beautiful every day. Until you stop blushing about it."

  "Every day? There are only twenty-five more days in that every day. Then you'll be gone again."

  "So let's make the most of them.” His fingers skated down my arm, raising goosebumps at his touch. Such a little thing, and it made my spine tingle with longing, as if his touch raced through every part of my body.

  "We should eat our pizza," I said. "Go to bed. Back to normal tomorrow."

  He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against my hair. "I don't want to go back to normal tomorrow, Naomi."

  The way he said my name made it sound like a prayer, a plea.

  I bit down on my lower lip as I turned my eyes up to his. Was it possible that Rob felt as much as I did?

  Even if he didn't, did I care right now?

  We had survived the night. I could survive Rob Delaney breaking my heart again if I meant I finally filled this ache I had to wrap my thighs around his lean waist and let him bury his cock deep inside me.

  “This isn’t smart,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said. “No, it isn’t smart. But can’t we just have this one, dumb moment?”