back.”
Without waiting to see if Leah obeyed, she hurried inside. The bouncer offered her a smile. “Back so soon?”
“I think I lost my cell phone in the ladies’ room.”
The guy took pity on her, obviously seeing her distress. “There’s a back way, if you don’t want to go through the club.” He opened a door marked Employees Only. “Go to the end of this hallway. The last door on the right comes out by the bathrooms.”
Smiling her thanks, she followed his directions. The long, narrow passageway seemed far removed from the bright neon beer signs and loud patrons next door. Her own footsteps echoed loudly, reiterating with every tap that she was entirely alone.
Following the directions, she found the ladies’ room easily. “Oh, please be here,” she whispered as she went inside.
As far as public restrooms went, this one wasn’t too nasty. Still, she hid a grimace as she bent down and felt around on the dingy, tiled floor where she’d dropped the purse. Her fingers touched moisture. Ick. Then…
“Yes!” Pay dirt. Tucking the phone into her purse, she hurried out, heading back into the dark, private hallway.
It was so dark that Bridget didn’t even see the man until she almost ran right into him. He stood in the shadows, silent and still, tall and broad. Maybe even dangerous. Why she should think that, she didn’t know. He could very well be hanging around outside the ladies’ room waiting for his date.
The Employees Only side of the empty ladies’ room.
Uh-huh. Bridget’s breath sped up. Her entire body went on instant fight-or-flight alert.
Don’t be ridiculous, you’re in a public place.
Right. There were a hundred people in the next room. So why was her heart racing just because she’d almost walked right into a very tall, very broad, black-clothed man who emanated heat and hinted of danger? One who seemed to be intentionally clinging to the shadows. One who smelled like…
“Oh, God,” she whispered, instinctively reacting to that warm aftershave she’d only ever smelled on one other man before.
The heart that had been racing before stopped for a full second before bursting into a rapid thud hard enough to be heard in the next room. Her thoughts racing, she strove for calm…but could find none. Anger, fear, regret, they all fought for control of her emotions.
She tried to spin around, to hurry back the way she’d come. But his firm hand on her arm stopped her, squeezing and keeping her still. “Stay here.”
“Let go of me.”
“You have to come with me. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped. “Get your hands off me.”
“We don’t have time for this.” He pulled her tightly against him, though, judging by the way he kept his attention fixed on the distant end of the hallway, where Bridget had come past the bouncer, that was where his true interest lay.
Good. Because toward the big, burly bouncer was exactly where Bridget intended to go. He could deal with this overbearing man whose distraction had caused him to finally loosen his grip. She took advantage of it, trying to spin away. Seeing a sliver of light emerge as the door at that end of the hallway opened, she prepared to shout for help.
But she couldn’t. Because before she could make a sound, she was hauled up against a big, rock-hard body. And a firm, hot mouth was descending onto hers. Gasping, she inadvertently parted her lips and he took full advantage, plunging his tongue against hers, stealing her breath and every bit of her brainpower. Bridget just hung there like a rag doll, too shocked to pull away and punch his face off.
To be honest, she also didn’t pull away because she was starting to like it. But as she began to mentally admit that—and to contemplate fully participating in the kiss—he let her go.
“They’re gone.”
He was cold, determined, not at all breathless or shaky the way Bridget felt. Which infuriated her further. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but before she could, his strong hand came up to cover it. “Don’t make a sound.”
Her intelligence had returned, along with her anger and she was done taking orders or being distracted. She tried to scream, biting at his fingers.
“Damn it,” he muttered, lifting her off the floor as if she weighed nothing. He reached for a fire alarm on the wall. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we just have to get out of here.”
Without another word, he yanked the handle down. A piercing siren wailed overhead. And before Bridget had even had time to acknowledge the fact that he really had set off the fire alarm in this crowded club, she found herself tossed completely over his shoulder. She emitted an oomph as her stomach hit those flexing muscles. Scorching heat enveloped her, every inch of her body curled against the man, touching him—though not in a typical man-woman position.
With his hand cupping her bottom and her palms pressed flat against his back, she could hardly process everything that had happened in the last few minutes. It didn’t help that the achingly sensual scent of his skin filled her head and rattled her thoughts. Or that she could feel his warm breath against her hip, through her coat and dress.
From the sound of it, loud patrons of the club were heading for the front door. But she couldn’t focus on that. Couldn’t focus on anything except the feel of him. And without saying another word, he pushed through a rear emergency door and carried her out into the cold night.
It was really happening. Bridget was being kidnapped, right out of a public place.
By Dean Willis. The FBI agent she’d spent the past several months loathing.
SPECIAL AGENT DEAN WILLIS had been following Bridget Donahue for three days. Long, painful days during which he’d mentally kicked himself a hundred times for ever letting this happen. Any of it.
He regretted getting involved with her. Taking advantage of her. Using her.
Falling for her. Hard.
Oh, she’d never believe it, especially because of the way she’d found out that he was working undercover. She’d known him as nice, solid, boring car salesman Dean Willis, with the ill-fitting suits, the shaggy hair and the crooked glasses.
He’d wanted her to know him like that. To like him, to trust him. And he’d played on that like and trust, needing to know—to be sure—that Bridget had not been involved with her employer’s financial games. Her boss had been cleaning up some filthy money for a couple of local drug-dealing thugs.
Bridget Donahue had been his bookkeeper.
Everyone—including Dean, at first—had assumed she was an accomplice. It was only after he’d met her that he’d begun to suspect everyone was wrong. He’d become determined to prove it, and he had—but only after he’d gotten close to her. Close enough to make her trust him. Close enough to make her care about him.
Close enough to care too much himself.
She had been—still was—the loveliest woman he’d ever met. Sweet and funny. Good-natured and intelligent. Everything he’d always wanted in a woman…but he’d had to use her.
So she had a right to hate him when the truth came out, when she’d walked into the dealership one morning and found him there, with his team, tearing the place apart and taking Honest Marty into custody. She hadn’t wanted to hear a thing he had to say. She’d brushed him off, not sparing him a second thought,
She wouldn’t have trusted him now if he’d come to her to tell her she was in danger.
So he hadn’t come to her. He’d stayed out of sight, certain she hadn’t spotted him. But oh, he’d definitely kept his eyes glued to her. Sometimes walking close enough behind her to breathe in the remnants of