Page 6 of August

August towered in the doorway. His blond hair was mussed, and thick stubble hid the chiseled jaw she’d committed to memory. He wore a hoodie and jeans. His hands were balled into fists, as if ready to pummel anyone who might be near her. His eyes found hers and his face changed. The hard line of his mouth softened and the murderous glint in his stare melted.

He opened his arms. Without a second thought, she catapulted across the room and burrowed her face against the soft material of his sweater. Tears clouded her eyes. She didn’t dare pull away for fear he’d see them. Because if he did, she’d never stop crying. She’d bottled up far too many emotions where August was concerned.

She inhaled his masculine scent. He smelled of spice and lime, and home. He represented her past. A previous life she ached to have back.

A life that was dead and gone.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Sherry said, from somewhere behind August. Gigi hadn’t even noticed her. August’s massive frame must have been blocking the slight woman.

August brought his palm to the back of her head, and his other wrapped around her waist. “My god. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to you first.” His words were gruff. Clearing his throat, he moved his fingers through her hair. “It’s all right. You’re fine now.”

She nodded. Caution told her to step back. To keep her guard up before she did something really stupid like fall for this gentle giant again. Except moving out of his proximity was impossible. Her traitorous body refused to leave his warmth.

A tremor shook her shoulders. It’d been so long since she had human contact. Joe sure wasn’t the hugging type, and she’d have been weirded out if he’d tried. August’s embrace filled a void in her heart she hadn’t known was there until now. Pulling her own arms off would’ve been easier than pushing away from him.

He didn’t let go. His thumb drew small circles on her back. Then the hand cupping her head slid to her chin and tilted her face back to meet his gaze. “Did they touch you?”

She swallowed. The action was much harder with her head at such a sharp angle. “No.” She cleared her throat. “Just pushed me into a wall and pulled my hair.” Her gaze flicked away and back. “He was going to slit my throat.”

August’s green eyes darkened. “That won’t happen again.”

Emotion welled inside her. This was the August she’d fallen for. The devoted, mysterious black-ops soldier. His passion and strength had stolen her breath, and even after all this time, it still did.

Numerous times she’d wondered how things would’ve played out if she hadn’t met Todd.

If she’d waited for August...

She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “What do we do now?”

His gaze lowered to her mouth and his hand twitched beneath her jaw. He moved his fingers to her bicep but separated their bodies. “We get the hell out of here.”

She nodded. Part of her wanted more answers. Where would they go? It’d already been established that she couldn’t hide from the cartel. That they were hungry for her blood.

Would August try to pass her off to the U.S. marshals again? She couldn’t bear the thought. She’d finally gotten a sliver of home. An oversized slice of hunky man cake that she couldn’t afford to eat but that she wasn’t willing to give up, either.

Grabbing her bag, she dropped her phone inside and let August lead her down the hall. The scent of coffee and oil frying hung thick in the air, tossing her stomach. They reached the dining area, which featured a wall of windows letting in lights from the streetlamps. The edges of the dark sky were starting to fade, promising the sun would rise on a new day.

Hopefully not her last.

Gigi’s gaze landed on a dark sedan parked across the lot. A man sat in the driver’s seat, his gaze laser focused on the windows. Her heart lurched. She skidded. August frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s here,” she whispered.

He snapped his head toward the windows, following her gaze. A curse fell from his lips. He backed her up behind the counter.

Sherry approached. “Everything all right—”

“Get everyone out,” August commanded.

The waitress gasped. “It’s the breakfast rush.”

Pressure built against Gigi’s temples as she watched the assassin slide from the vehicle. She instantly recognized his tall form. He wore the ski mask rolled up on his head, and it now looked like a beanie. He’d changed into a loose-fitting gray sweater, undoubtedly to cover his wound.

He stared. She doubted he could see her halfway stationed behind the till and August, but something had alerted him to her presence.

Once again, she had the freaky sensation that he could smell her.

“Unless you want people to get hurt, clear the place,” August said, through gritted teeth.

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