Page 44 of Over the Edge

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He pulled me toward him by my wrist and his lips crashed down against mine, hot and desperate. The kiss was raw, consuming—all teeth and tongue and wild need. My back hit the concrete pillar as he pressed against me, his body hard and unyielding. I gasped into his mouth, my shaking hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling him closer even as my rational mind screamed to push him away.

I didn’t care. Not now. Not with the taste of danger still metallic on my tongue and my blood singing from our escape.

Flynn’s hands moved to my hips, pinning me against the pillar. One slid up to cradle my jaw, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. The stubble on his chin scraped against my skin, a delicious burn that only heightened every sensation.

“God, you were amazing out there,” he murmured against my lips, voice rough with desire.

His words sent a fresh surge of heat through me, a different kind of adrenaline replacing the combat high. I arched against him, suddenly desperate for more contact.

“Flynn—” My voice caught as his mouth found the sensitive spot below my ear.

Footsteps echoed through the garage. Close. Fast.

We froze, then broke apart, instincts snapping into place. I nodded toward the far wall. Flynn nodded back. No words needed. Just motion and muscle memory. We split off, moving in opposite directions, flanking positions—classic pincer. Catch them in a crossfire.

I counted three sets of footsteps—two from the ramp, one circling wide. It was hard to pin them down with the way sound bounced through the space, but that worked in our favor too.

They were fast. We were faster.

I felt everything. Every breath, every shift of air. I was alive in a way that only combat ever made me feel.

Well, combat and Flynn’s mouth on me.

We paused at opposite corners. I signaled,three targets, armed.

Flynn nodded and gave me a look—pointed at me, then made a fist.You good?

I gave a single nod, just as they closed in.

The one on the right moved first, sweeping his weapon across the space ahead of him. He didn’t see me until it was too late. I surged out of the dark, grabbed his arm, and twisted hard. His wrist snapped with a sharp pop, and the gun hit the floor. He opened his mouth to shout, but I drove my knee into his gut and spun him around to use his body as a shield as I scanned for his buddies.

Flynn’s fight was louder, more brutal. He didn’t bother with finesse. Just force. I heard the sharp crack of impact, the wet snap of something breaking, and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

The second man barely had time to register what was happening before he adjusted his aim toward me. But Flynn was there, materializing from the shadows, a blur of controlled violence. He caught the gunman’s wrist, twisted, and slammed him against the concrete wall with enough force to crack plaster. The man’s weapon clattered to the ground as Flynn drove an elbow into his throat, cutting off any possible shout for backup.

My own opponent wasn’t done. He threw his head back, trying to catch my nose, but I shifted just enough that his skull grazed my cheek instead. I tightened my hold, forearm pressing against his windpipe as I kicked his legs out from under him. We went down together, my weight driving him face-first into the concrete.

“Stay down,” I hissed, pressing my knee between his shoulder blades.

He didn’t listen. They never do.

He bucked beneath me, stronger than I’d anticipated. I rolled with the motion, using his momentum against him. As he twisted, I caught his jaw with my elbow. His head snapped back, and when he fell this time, he stayed down.

Flynn’s man was already unconscious, slumped against the wall. Flynn stood over him, chest heaving, eyes wild with adrenaline and something darker, hungrier. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at me, a feral grin spreading across his face.

“I fucking love my job.” Then his gaze dropped to the man at my feet and he whistled. “Did you break his neck?”

I looked down and winced. The man’s neck bulged at an unnatural angle. “Wasn’t trying to. I just tapped him with my elbow.”

“Remind me never to piss you off. You fight like a demon.”

I scoffed but couldn’t stop the tiny flicker of pride that warmed my chest. “You’ve been pissing me off since the moment you crashed my op.”

“Not like that I haven’t.” He nudged one of the unconscious men with his boot, then bent to scoop up the guy’s weapon. “We can’t leave them alive. They’ve seen your face.”

My heart thudded hard. He was right. If they talked, the whole Elisa Deveraux persona would burn.

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