Page 13 of Carnal Urges
“I keep telling you, gangster. I’m charming. By the time this is all over, you’ll be head over heels in love with me.”
Blue eyes burning, he opens his mouth to speak, but his words are lost in the sudden, deafening noise of a hailstorm of bullets bombarding the side of the car.
FIVE
SLOANE
The first thing Declan does is throw himself on top of me.
It has the immediate effect of knocking all the breath from my lungs and the pistol from my hand. I lie flattened on the bench seat, stunned and wheezing, as Declan lies over me, an Irish gangster blanket weighing approximately ten tons.
“Sean is an excellent driver,” he says calmly, looking toward the closed partition window. “So there’s a chance we can outrun them. But if they’ve blocked off streets—like I would’ve done—they could be intentionally steering us toward a dead end.”
He gazes down at me. “Which wouldn’t be good.”
The limo swerves wildly, fishtailing for a moment before straightening and continuing at breakneck speed. Another volley of gunfire rings out. Bullets pepper the rear window and ricochet off, leaving little round indents surrounded by spiderweb cracks.
Struggling for breath, I say faintly, “I have questions.”
“What a surprise.”
“How did you know they’d be waiting for us? What happenedto your boss? What happens if they steer us toward a dead end? And why the hell are you lying on top of me?”
He looks vaguely insulted. “To protect you, of course.”
“You said this car was armored.”
That stumps him for a moment. “Right. Sorry. Instincts.”
He withdraws, sitting up and pulling me along with him. I retrieve my cute little pistol from the floor, stick it into the back waistband of my skirt, and turn to face him on the seat.
“What kind of kidnapper has protective instincts for his kidnappee?”
He snaps, “The stupid kind. I should open the door and throw you to the wolves.”
I inspect his expression. “But you won’t.”
His answer is a dissatisfied grumble. Meanwhile, we’re still speeding, the bullets are still flying, and I’m starting to have a good time.
“Ha! You see? I’m charming you already.”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “Dear god, make it stop.”
“Hold on, back up. What do you mean, ‘throw you to the wolves’? Aren’t these MS-13 guys supposed to be trying to rescue me? You know, fromyou?”
He scoffs. “If you had any brains, you’d be dangerous.”
“Oh, you think you’re better than them?”
“We’re not even the same species, lass.”
I make a face. “That sounds more than a little racist. You might want to check your prejudice, pal.”
Outraged, he glares at me. Then he thunders, “I’m not talking about their fuckingrace! I’m talking about what they’d do to you if they got their hands on you, you bloody little gobshite! Them or any other family!” He mutters, “Thick as a plank, y’are.”
His accent gets more pronounced when he’s angry. It’s almost hot.
“You’re not making sense. Why would they ‘do’ anything to me if they’re trying to help me?”
