Page 73 of These White Lies
Brady checks the backyard through the small window next to the door, before leading me back into the small brick courtyard toward the front of the house. He stops at the corner of the house before stepping into the open, and that’s when everything changes.
I feel the moment his body coils tight, everything in him on alert. Brady doesn’t speak, only lifts two fingers in a small, sharp gesture that freezes me where I am.
I follow his line of sight and see two men on the opposite sidewalk, lazily strolling toward us. My heart rate picks up. They are wearing T-shirts with unbuttoned short-sleeve overshirtsand jeans. Not that different from what Brady is wearing, and when one of the men lifts his hand to swat at a bug, I see the holster strapped to his side.
The air in my lungs goes thin. Shit. They haven’t spotted us yet, but… We’re trapped. My pulse gallops.
Brady steps close, tucking his arm around my shoulders, the weight of it grounding me. Steering me down the narrow walk away from the men, he moves us farther from the SUV. Brady angles his body to block me from view as he leans in, his voice low against my hair, the barest scrape of his breath along my temple. “Don’t look, and do exactly what I say.”
Fear zings through me, sharp and hot. My spine locks tight, but I move my head in the approximation of a nod.
The moment we reach the next house, Brady pivots and pulls me flush against him, then backs me toward the brick wall of the corner house. His hand slides up to cradle the back of my head, and the other settles carefully at my waist, just above the stitches. The world narrows to his heat, his scent, and the thud of his heart against my chest. Then, his mouth is on mine again.
The kiss hits like a shockwave, and like before, everything else falls away. All I feel is Brady. His lips are sure and warm, and the adrenaline thrumming in my veins only seems to heighten the sensation. His fingers slide through my hair, tilting my chin so he can deepen the kiss, and I let him. My hands splay across his chest on instinct, then curl into his shirt, holding on as if he’s the most solid thing left in my world.
Because he is.
Part of my brain registers there is still danger nearby, and it’s brought home when the hand on my side slips to his own, and I feel the movement when he unclips the strap on his holster and wraps his hand around the gun’s grip.
Holy shit.
I open my eyes and find that Brady never closed his at all. His gaze is locked on the street behind us.
Finally, his muscles ease a little, and he pulls back. My lips are tingling, and my fingers are still curled tight in his shirt. His mouth brushes the shell of my ear. “Sorry. Had to make it look real.”
“You’re an asshole,” I whisper back, annoyed that he isn’t as affected as I am.
His chest moves against mine in the barest hint of a laugh, and his hand returns to my side. His thumb drifts in a light circle at my waist. “Ready to go, Firefly?”
“Sure.” I interlace my fingers with his as he leads us quickly down a side road. “By the way, the kiss was great, but for next time… I’m not sure I’m into gunplay.”
I smirk to myself when Brady chokes on a laugh.
21
BRADY
A last-minute reservation brings us to a boutique hotel close to the heavily tourist-trafficked riverfront.
“This is a lot nicer than I imagined when you said we were going to find a hotel.” Elizabeth’s gaze drifts over the hardwood floors and white crown moldings before snagging a mint from what looks like an antique candy dish. “I think I’ll hide from the baddies with you anytime.”
I squeeze her hand hard. “Behave.”
“What are the chances of you letting me go to the bathroom alone?” She lifts one eyebrow at me. “It’s getting to be an urgent situation.”
I look at the door several feet away in the tiny lobby. I’d be able to watch the entrance from the reception desk. “Hurry.”
“Bossy,” she says over her shoulder.
“Stubborn,” I call back, and am rewarded with a small laugh.
I exhale in relief. I’d worried how Elizabeth would handle another run-in with armed men, but she seems to take it in stride. Once I explained to her my plan to hide essentially in plain sight, she’d relaxed. We walked the streets of Savannah holding hands, looking like every other couple on vacation.Except my eyes were constantly scanning for the two men or anyone else who seemed to watch us too closely.
When there hadn’t been another sighting in two hours, we made our way to the hotel I’d located online.
“As I said on the phone, sir.” The front desk clerk offers me an apologetic smile. “We only have one room left.”
“Not a problem,” I say with a smile of my own, doing my best not to think about the implications of what he said.
