Page 52 of Risky Passion

The man didn’t answer. He took a step closer, and his boots crunched on a twig, snapping it in half. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned and sprinted back toward the others.

The three of them lingered on the trail, their voices low and sharp as they seemed to argue over what to do next. Every second stretched unbearably long.

Finally, one of them muttered something, his tone clipped and angry, and they started back down the way they’d come. Their footsteps grew softer, fading into the distance until they disappeared near the burning wreck, and the glow of the fire concealed them altogether.

I let out a shaky breath, my body sagging against the log as the tension drained from me. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and unbidden, but I didn’t wipe them away.

Jaxson didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on the trail, his body still tense, coiled like a predator ready to pounce. Beside him, Onyx was perfectly still, too, her ears pinned back. I had the feeling she could keep that stance for hours.

The wilderness fell silent again, and the only sound was the faint crackle of the distant fire.

Finally, Jaxson turned to me. His expression was grim but calm. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I guess.” I barely recognized my weak voice.

His hand rested on my shoulder. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

I searched his face, wishing there was enough light to see him clearly. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I didn’t,” he said, his tone brimming with absolute certainty.

I barely knew Jaxson, yet I had this overwhelming feeling that he would die for me.

And that thought made my heart ache and my head want to explode all at once. I didn’t want anyone dying for me. I didn’t want to die either. There was still so much I wanted to do.

I wanted to travel to exotic beaches all around the world, to have children, to learn how to salsa dance, to cook the perfect curry, and learn how to knit something warm and soft with my own two hands. There were a million little things I’d always told myself I’d do someday.

I do not want to die.

CHAPTER 15

B

The stolenIndian motorbike roared beneath me, but its growl couldn’t drown out the storm raging in my mind. The warehouse explosion I’d watched live on my iPad played on an endless loop behind my eyes as every move from the feed prior to detonation had seared into my memory.

Blade and Viper had dived into the black water beneath the warehouse floorboards just as the fireball erupted.

Did those bastards die? Were they crushed when the building collapsed? Or by being trapped underwater beneath the weight of ancient timber? And what about Maya, Aria, and Cobra? Did they survive?

Why didn’t I rig more cameras outside? Why?

At least Grant was gone. I’d made damn sure of that. The C4 wired to his chair had done exactly what I planned: blown that ungrateful prick to pieces.

I veered off the main highway, and the smooth asphalt gave way to a narrow, forgotten road with a warped surface pockmarked by potholes. The headlight swept across the rough bitumen as I slowed, weaving around the jagged craters that threatened to swallow my tires.

The road twisted and wound like a coiled snake, dragging me deeper into isolation. On either side of the road, dense, six-foot-high grass hid the rusted barbed wire fences I knew were there. Each turn tightened theknot of dread in my stomach, pulling me back to the place that had poisoned Alice’s life and mine . . . Angelsong Orphanage.

The place that had broken Alice so completely, she buried it in the darkest corners of her mind, and each year she retreated further and further until I couldn’t pull her back anymore. In the end, her beautiful eyes, once sparkling with joy over the simplest things, turned dull, empty, and our endless conversations had been replaced by mumbled prayers.

As if God gave a damn about either of us.

After sixteen miles on the godforsaken stretch of road, I neared the unmarked entrance to the orphanage. I eased off the throttle, scanning the wild scrub lining the road, determined not to miss the driveway again, like I did the last two times.

A gap in the brush revealed itself at last, and I turned onto the driveway. The rubber tires crunched and popped over loose gravel, and the sound was loud in the stillness of the night. The black sky above was alive with stars, and the Milky Way hung like a torn veil across the heavens, its brilliance mocking the darkness below. The half-moon cast just enough light to make the shadows deeper and sharper.

Around the bend, the orphanage emerged in the distance like a predator waiting to pounce. The main building stood out against the faint silver glow of the sky, and its crumbling walls and shattered windows seemed as haunting as the memories it unleashed.

A wave of dread slammed into me, thick and suffocating, threatening to drag me under like black water. My chest tightened and my mind urged me to turn around and get the fuck out of there.

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