Page 66 of Under Fire

“I love what a dirty slut you are.”

“Just for you—” She bit her lip devilishly.

But the swift sounds of footsteps cresting the corner of the hotel had Warren drawing back from her, adjusting her dress so that they both looked normal. Or, at least not amid a heated make-out session on the dark side of the building.

A man’s voice she recognized to be Crash’s interrupted them as he urgently marched up.

“Chief?”

“What’s going on?”

Warren squared himself to the groom.

Crash’s well-trained eyes did not even dart to a clearly panting Alisa, remaining on task. “I need you to check something out.”

Nodding toward the front of the hotel, on the opposite side than the wedding party, Crash remained dead serious. Warren seemed to get it, dragging Alisa up against him. Brushing her hair back, he issued clear and direct orders.

“Go back to the party,” Warren said, stern as hell. “Stay with people. Plant yourself on a chair. I’ll be back in five minutes. Five fucking minutes.”

Confused, she pouted to counter, but he shook his head, telling her to stop. He wasn’t taking questions.

Launching her toward the noise, he watched as she reluctantly sauntered down the path. Glancing over her shoulder, she clearly saw that he was making sure she obeyed. And once she turned the corner, re-entering the party, she gazed back only to see Warren marching to the front of the hotel with Crash.

What’s going on?

She adjusted her hair, a little messy from their tussle. Watching him leave didn’t help the aching feeling in her pussy, and she was more desperate than ever to have his body pressed against hers, preferably naked.

Hearing a cackling noise over her shoulder, she looked and saw Jen not far away, getting down on the dance floor with her bridesmaids. Alisa’s gaze snapped back to where she’d come from. She bit her lip, knowing she should listen to him but needing to follow him.

Her drunken feet took her where her mind wasn’t willing to go. Finding herself creeping along the side of the hotel, she quietly stalked to the front of the building, observing Warren and Crash standing there together. Then she realized that they were hovering over a blacked-out bike in the throes of a heated argument with the driver.

That bike… Alisa narrowed her eyes.

Then, she recognized it. It only took her intoxicated brain a little longer than it would have normally to diagnose the situation. Yes, she’d seen that bike before—right in front of her apartment…before it had been burned to a crisp.

She felt chills creep up her arms, realizing what that could mean.

At that precise moment, the bike peeled off, the driver shouting out something threatening at Warren.

She stumbled back as Warren and Crash spun and began marching toward the exact spot where she stood. She shook, her eyes darting left and right for a place to hide. The flora wasn’t welcoming, full of cacti. Knowing Southern California, she was liable to get bit by a black widow if she tried it.

It was too late. Warren spotted her, stopping feet from her. He crossed his arms with more than just a disapproving look. He stared at her like she was the last unicorn on earth. She could see that something had really pissed him off. The air had grown as serious as fuck—and he wasn’t playing around anymore.

“I’ll see you back at the party.” Crash nodded at his boss, quietly taking his leave.

The resulting silence between Warren and Alisa was weighty. A light illuminating that corner of the hotel flickered above, the only movement in that ten-foot space.

She let out a long breath, knowing the conversation they needed to have.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alisa

Alisa stood in front of Warren, shaking like she had feverish chills. Sweat beaded on her chest, the heat wave never relenting. Her mouth grew dry in anticipation of what was to come. He wasn’t happy, and she didn’t expect that to get any better.

“What the hell are you doing? I told you to wait back there,” Warren started.

“Has he found me?” she asked.

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