Her breath was hard and hot and heavy against his lips when he released her. And damn but that felt good. She felt good. So much fucking better than he’d ever imagined.
“What . . . was that?” she breathed against his lips. But she didn’t push him away. If anything her fingers were digging into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
Dear God, she wants me closer.
His legs felt weak. He lowered his lips to her shoulder and nipped at the tender flesh, then smoothed his tongue over the spot. “I don’t know.” He lifted his head and grazed her lips with his own. “But I really hope that’s your gun beneath that fucking hot dress and not that you’re happy to see me.”
Her lips curled. She was so close he could feel her silky lips move against his. “Scared, handsome?”
“Terrified.” But not of her. Of this wild, sizzling heat that was compelling him to give in to every one of his wanton urges.
He closed his mouth over hers again, and she sucked hard on his tongue and rocked her hips against his with a groan. And holy hell, he saw stars when she kissed him harder, when she rubbed her sinful body against his straining cock. Knew if she kept that up he was going to come. Right in his pants. Just like a freakin’ randy teenager.
Voices echoed beyond the steel door, out in the hall. Several voices. Male voices. Voices that did not sound happy. They cut through the sexual haze, pulling Rusty back from the edge. “Did you hear that?”
Harper turned her head, her soft hair grazing his cheek, and went silent. Then she said, “Shit, they’re coming this way.”
He released her from the wall, stepped back so she could pick up her clutch, and then reached for her hand. “Come on. You need to stop distracting me so we can get out of here like you said.”
She huffed in the darkness but didn’t pull away from his hold as he tugged her quickly down the steps. “That’s right. Blame me.”
He grinned, enjoying the banter with her and the lighthearted moments even when they were conceivably in deep shit. “My baby doll? Done.”
A soft chuckle met his ears. “I warned you, McClane.”
They reached the lower level, and he tugged her toward the door, but she stopped him and said, “No, one more down. We’re still two floors above the boiler room, and the hallway with the locked doors was only one level above that.”
He let go so she could take the lead but stayed close. And when they descended to the next landing and she reached for the door, he placed a hand on her arm and said, “Let me.”
She frowned. “Don’t go getting all macho on me. I’m the one with the weapon, remember?”
“Like I could ever forget.” He tugged the door open a crack and peered into the dimly lit hallway. Unlike the corridors above, this one wasn’t lit by a red hue but by a few low-wattage bulbs high in the ceiling that spread light in cone shapes every fifteen feet or so.
“It’s clear.” He tugged the door open wider and stepped out into the space. As she’d said before, there was a scattering of black doors on both sides of the hall, spaced evenly apart. He stepped up to the closest one and knocked gently, listening for any kind of movement on the other side.
Silence met his ears.
“How are we going to figure out which one is hers?” Harper whispered.
He didn’t answer, just moved to the next door and rapped softly. Still nothing.
“And once we find her,” Harper continued, “how are we going to get her out? Do you have a key? Because I don’t.”
He stopped at the next door, lifted his gaze to hers, and smirked as he lightly knocked. Her answer was a frown and a tilt of her head that was so damn cute it was all he could do not to kiss her again.
He restrained himself, only because of where they were, and moved to the next door. This time when he knocked, a groan sounded from the other side.
“Bingo.” He stepped back and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Something my brothers and I learned to do a long time ago.” He dropped to his knee, eyed the lock, then grabbed the tool that was closest to the right size.
“Is that a lock pick?”
“Yep.” He slid the tool into the lock, searching for the tumbler.
“Were you and your brothers juvenile delinquents or something?”
“They were. I learned everything I could from them.”
When she only shot him a disbelieving look, he looked up at her and smiled. “Serious. They both spent time in juvie when they were about thirteen. That’s how our father met them both. He took time away from his practice to counsel kids in the system. He adopted each of them after they got out.”
“He’s either a saint or certifiable.”
He chuckled. “Both.” Feeling the pick catch, he pushed to his feet. “Got it.”
The lock turned. He pulled the pick out, replaced it in his breast pocket, and pushed the door open.
Nothing but darkness met his eyes. “Harper, I need the li—”
“Here.” She’d already turned the flashlight app on and was pushing her cell phone into his hand.
He lifted it and shone it over the room, then swore under his breath when he spotted the girl, lying in a heap on the floor in the corner.
“Wow,” Harper whispered. “It really is the girl from the other night.”
“You thought it was someone else?”
“I wasn’t sure.” Harper glanced his way. “I hoped it was her, but I didn’t get a great look at her in the tunnel.”
He crossed the room. “That’s why this auction was so last-minute. They had to get rid of her.” He knelt at her side and reached for the girl. “Help me.”
They pulled the girl upright and moved her so she was sitting with her back against the wall with her legs out in front of her. Her eyes were half-closed, her head lolling to the side. One look was all Rusty needed to know she’d been drugged.
He shone the light over her eyes. “Megan? Can you hear me?”
Megan groaned as her head fell forward.
Harper pushed aside the sleeve of the girl’s T-shirt and then the hem of her long shorts. “Doesn’t look like she’s been assaulted.”
“No, they wouldn’t have touched her. Not yet, at least. They get more for her if she’s a virgin.”
“God, these people are sick.”
“I know.” He wrapped his arms around the girl and pushed to his feet. “I’m going to have to carry her. How far to the tunnel?”
“Down another flight and through the boiler room.”
The girl moaned again as he hefted her into his arms. “Let’s just hope we don’t run into any trouble between now and then.”
Harper nodded and rose beside him. “Five minutes and we’ll be in the tunnels. Then it’s a straight shot to the bar I used to gain access.”
Rusty sure the hell hoped so, because the sooner he got this girl to safety, the sooner he could get back to doing what he’d only barely been able to stop back there—which was getting lost in the tough-as-nails Harper Blake all over again.
Harper’s heart raced as she led Rusty back through the dimly lit corridor, into the stairwell, and down to the lowest level. No sounds followed them. She hadn’t heard any voices or footsteps, but she was still on high alert, her gun heavy in the holster against her thigh, her fingers itching to reach for it, just in case.
“Almost there,” she said as she pushed the boiler-room door open and stepped into the sweltering heat.
“Jesus, it’s hot in here,” he said, shifting the girl in his arms as the door snapped closed behind him.
“This way.” She crossed the large room quickly and rounded the boiler. Reaching for her duffel, she tossed the strap over her shoulder, then rushed toward the door, grasping her dress at the thigh so she wouldn’t trip. “Here.”
She tugged the door open and waited for him to step through. As he moved out onto the cement stairs, she pulled the door closed behind her and said, “
Hold on a second.”
She rifled through her bag and found her cell phone. After flipping it on so the tunnel was illuminated, she bent and yanked off her heels, then shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and threw the heels into her bag. “Okay, we’re set.”
He glanced down at the stairs. “Okay, Indiana Jones. Lead on.”
When they reached the dirt floor of the tunnel, Harper shone the light ahead, then glanced back at Rusty, holding the girl upside down over his shoulder. “You okay carrying her several blocks?”
“This chick? She’s light as a feather.”
She scoffed.
“I work on a farm, remember?”
“A winery.”
“Same diff.”
God, he was cute. Too cute. She lifted the skirt of her dress up, keeping it out of the trickle of water in the middle of the tunnel as she walked, trying not to think about how cute he was. How hot he was. And what the man had done to her back there with his hands and lips and—holy hell—that smokin’ body.
She was in serious trouble with this guy. Not just because she was wildly attracted to him but because she liked him. Really liked him. She liked his sarcastic sense of humor and the way he could cut the tension with one stupid joke . . . like the gun-beneath-her-dress crack back in that stairwell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a guy who could not only make her panties melt but also make her want to laugh at the same time.
They rounded a corner. Her light shone over beams in the ceiling, the dirt floor, and scattered debris. When they turned down a second corridor, the girl over Rusty’s shoulder groaned.
“She’s starting to wake up,” Rusty said. “How much farther?”
“Not much. A hundred yards, maybe? I came down a set of stairs from a red door. It’s the back room of a dive bar on Sixth and—”
Shouts echoed at their backs down the dark tunnel. Angry male voices that drew Harper around and sent her adrenaline soaring.
“Motherfucker, they’ve realized she’s gone.” Rusty dropped the girl to her feet and grasped her by the shoulders. “Hey. Wake up.” He shook her, then grasped her by the chin, forcing her head up. “Look at me. Megan, I need you to stand on your own.”
The voices grew louder. As did their footsteps. Coming right toward them. “Uh, McClane.”
The girl’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at Rusty with a dazed expression. “Megan? I need you to go with Blake. Stay with her, don’t slow her down.” He twisted to look at Harper. “Take her and run.”
His intention hit her like a swift punch to the gut. “What?” She grabbed hold just as he pushed the girl at her. “No. Are you crazy? Come with us.”
“I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Just get her the hell out of here.” He quickly scanned the ground and reached for a two-by-four with a nail sticking out of the end of the wood. Swinging it around, he glanced back at her and yelled, “What are you waiting for? Go!”
Wide-eyed, Harper stared at him in horror as she steadied the girl on her feet. Then she spotted the bodies coming straight at them—two, at least. And her pulse went stratospheric. There was no time to give him her gun, no time to do anything but run.
“Come on, Megan.” She grasped the girl by the arm and hauled her with her. “We have to go now.”
She all but dragged Megan down the tunnel and around the next corner. The girl was like dead weight, struggling to keep up, her bare feet digging into the dirt as she slipped and stumbled. Twice she went down, and Harper had to haul her up with a yank she was afraid might jerk the girl’s arm out of its socket. But she was too focused on what was going on behind them to care—on the unmistakable sounds of a fight—of fists slamming into bone, of grunts, of groans, of the thwack of what she hoped was Rusty’s two-by-four doing damage to those fuckers.
Please let him get through this. Please let him be okay . . .
The pleas rang through her mind as she rounded the last turn, spotting the stairs and the red door. Hauling the struggling girl up the steps with her, she fumbled for the door handle, jerked it open, and pushed the girl through.
And froze when a gunshot echoed through the dark tunnel at her back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Harper’s heart felt as if it had lurched into her throat. She stared into the darkness and waited, willing Rusty to come running around the corner toward her, praying for any sign or sound that told her he was okay.
Please, please, please, please, please . . .
Memories of the day her father had been shot flooded her memory, tightening her throat. The blood. The way he’d been lying in a pool of blood like an animal. She swallowed hard, not wanting to go through that again. Praying for history not to be repeating itself.
Come on, come on, come on . . .
The girl groaned at Harper’s back. A shuffling sounded, and she heard a male voice say, “Hey, what’s going on back here?”
Her entire body vibrated with the need to go back for Rusty, but she couldn’t leave the girl. She had to get her to safety first. If she let something happen to her now, if Rusty found out . . .
Harper swallowed hard and turned toward Megan, lying on the floor like a sack of potatoes. The door to the tunnel snapped shut at her back. She quickly moved to Megan’s side, where a man with a beard and a leather vest was eyeing her warily as if he wasn’t sure if she was going to throw up or pass out.
Harper grasped the girl by the arms and pulled her to her feet. Sliding an arm around her waist, she said to the man, “Sorry. She had a little too much to drink, I’m afraid.”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t remember seeing either of you in here before—”
“Just on our way out.” She tugged Megan’s arm over her shoulder and helped the girl through the bar and out onto the street.
Fresh air hit her, filling her lungs. Streetlights shone down around them, illuminating the wet pavement, but she didn’t slow her pace, didn’t give Megan a chance to rest. She hauled the girl down another block to her car, braced her against the side while she dug her keys from the duffel on her back, then yanked the back door open and pushed her in.
Her nerves hummed as she shut the door and glanced back the way they’d come, toward the bar with its flashing neon sign. “Come on, McClane,” she whispered.
Long minutes passed with no sign of him. Her anxiety shot higher. She tugged the duffel free and tossed it in the trunk, then came back, crossed her arms over her chest, and paced the width of the sidewalk as she waited.
He was strong. He was tough. He could handle two thugs, right? He’d taken down the two in the tunnel the other night, right?
“Come on, come on, come on . . .”
When another few minutes passed with no sign of him, she stopped and glanced in the back window. The girl was dead asleep on the back seat of her car. Oblivious to everything going on around her.
She knew she shouldn’t leave the girl, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She hit the lock button on her fob. If he was hurt, if he was bleeding . . .
Her adrenaline spiked, and she pushed her feet into a jog. The bar door swooshed open halfway down the block, and Rusty stumbled out onto the sidewalk.
Her muscles shifted into overdrive. She reached him just as he lifted his head in her direction. Capturing him around the waist, she pulled him up against her, afraid he was about to fall. He was sweating, his hair dusty and rumpled, his jacket ripped at the shoulder, his clothing askew. And there was blood dripping down the side of his face. Blood that sent her heart into overdrive.
“I’ve got you. Are you okay?” Her hands streaked over his torso, searching for any signs of a bullet hole or more bleeding. “Where are you hurt?”
“I’m . . . fine.” He staggered, then righted himself, pushing against her so he was standing upright. Closing his hand around her upper arm as if he needed something to keep himself steady, he gave his head a swift shake. “Just . . . got my bell rung.”
She grasped his face in both of he
r hands and forced him to look her in the eye. “Let me see.” Her gaze skipped over his face. “Your pupils are a little dilated. You could have a concussion. What happened down there?”
“Guy hit me. Hard.”
That told her nothing. She let go of his face and grasped him by the arm. “Come on.”
Carefully, she led him to her car, walked him around to the passenger side, and pulled the door open for him. Breathing easier knowing he was okay, she moved to the back of the vehicle, found her cell in the duffel, dialed, and held the phone up to her ear. “Hey,” she said when the person on the other end picked up. “I need you to meet me at the circle on Montgomery, down by the water. Yeah. I’ll be there in about three minutes.”
She clicked “End,” clutched the phone in her hand, and moved for the driver’s door.
Once she was behind the wheel, Rusty glanced at her and said, “Who did you call?”
“Help.”
“Mind expanding?”
“Someone I trust.” She reached into the console between the seats and handed him a stack of tissues. “Just . . . sit still and try not to bleed all over the interior of my car.”
He took the tissues as she pulled out onto the street, glancing once over his shoulder at the girl still sound asleep on her back seat.
Looking back at Harper as he pressed the tissue to his forehead, he asked, “Is she alive?”
“Yes. Thanks to you.”
“No. Thanks to us. We make a pretty good team.”
Her lips thinned as she made a turn, heading for the waterfront. Yes, they did, and that was going to be a problem for her. Not just because he was her ticket back to a life she thought she’d never have again but because she wanted him. She wanted him in her bed and between her thighs. And she had no idea how that was going to fuck up her plans in the long run.
Harper was quiet as they drove to the waterfront, and considering Rusty’s ears were still ringing from that hit he’d taken to the side of the head, he was glad for it.
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