Page 25 of Bullseye
With my gun still drawn, I move toward the door.
“Avery?” she whispers.
“Yeah?” Turning back, I see she’s holding my jeans.
“You’re naked. Put these on in case it was just some random kids.” Raising one shoulder and letting it drop she adds, “The gun’s one thing. Seeing you naked would really intimidate them.”
She tosses the jeans to me and grinning, I grab them. She’s making a joke to lighten the situation, but even from here, I can see the terror in her eyes.
Putting my piece on the counter for only a second, I pull on my jeans and grab her house keys. Sliding out the door, I turn, and quietly, lock her in. Hugging the walls, I hurry up all three flights above us—taking the stairs two at a time. Certain that the building is clear and locked down tight, I double back, rushing down the stairs. Checking the empty hallway on the ground floor, I feel confident that I can leave her upstairs and go outside.
Shoving my piece into the back of my jeans, I burst through the front door, and run down the cement path toward the lot. The chilly Arizona night has cooled the ground beneath my bare feet, but I press on, slowing only to jump over a hedge of desert holly lining the walkway. Rushing into the quiet lot, there’s nothing but a few empty cars and our bikes, which are untouched.
Suddenly, I remember. Seth.
“Oh, shit.” Mumbling, I squat down, scrubbing my face with my hand and chuckling. “What an ass I am.”
If the brick had happened at my place, that would have been one thing. It could have been Mikey and Tony. But her place? No way. If Mikey and Tony wanted me, they would have tried to get to me at my place, or the clubhouse—if they were stupid enough for that. And knowing them, they might just be stupid enough. But this amateurish brick crap? That’s got Seth’s name written all over it.
Standing, my adrenaline starts to tank, and it’s replaced by a really freaking foul mood. I am sick to death of this middle-school crap. Seneca is mine, for as long as I’m here, and he’d better just back the fuck off.
Staring up at the black and starry Arizona night, I take a deep breath of the cool desert air. Yeah, she’s mine for as long as I’m here, but I wonder—while rubbing a burning pain in my stomach with the side of my fist—how long will that be? And would a woman like that go for a punk kid like Seth when I’m gone?
Turning and looking up at her window, a feeling of sadness washes over me. No, I don’t want to leave her, but I may not have the choice. Just before, when I was holding her to me, feeling her warm, soft body draped across mine, I swore I would do whatever it took to protect her. Even if that means leaving her.
But I sure as hell will not leave her toSeth. And I will take every second with her that I can.
Turning from the lot, I make my way back inside and up the stairs.
“Sen? Baby? It’s me. Don’t be scared. I’m coming in.”
Unlocking her door and pushing it open, I walk in to find her buck naked, standing by the side of the bed. Moving like a stealthy panther toward its injured prey, I hold out my arms to her, and rushing toward me, she jumps into my warm embrace.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper into her ear. “It’s okay.”
Her soft body trembles against me. I knew it. Despite the jokes, she’s scared.
Dropping my head and inhaling the scent of Seneca—spice, now coupled with sex—I can’t help but think she’s scared for more reasons than just the brick through her window. Releasing her, I put a hand under her chin and tilt her head upward. For a moment, I’m sidetracked by those gorgeous gray eyes.
“It was only Seth,” I assure her.
“What?” Shaking her head, she steps back. She must be trying to make sense of it the way I did. “Why would he throw a brick through my window?”
“Because he’s jealous.”
“Of?” Her eyebrows knit together.
“Us. Being together. In case you didn’t notice, he has one hell of a crush brewing.”
“But to throw a brick through my window? To scare me like that?” The way her chest is heaving, I can tell she’s incensed. “What an asshole.”
Damn, I would not want to be Seth tomorrow when she finds him at the club.
Crossing her arms in front of her, she shivers. She must be cold standing there, naked.
Dashing over to the floor near the bed, I grab my T-shirt. Walking back to her, I slip it over her head while I talk. “Yeah. That’s what I’ve been telling you. He’s a grade-A asshole. You don’t want to be around a jerk like that when he blows.” Tilting my head, I take her in. “Jeez. I hate to cover you up, but you look sexy as hell in my shirt.”
Fighting with the oversized shirt that looks like it’s trying to swallow her, she finally sticks her arms through the sleeves and then crosses them before her. Shaking her head, she continues with her previous thought. “Yeah, but it doesn’t make any sense. A brick through a window… that’s petty, juvenile stuff. That’s not a guy who blows. It’s more like a warn—”
