Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I force a smile, reminding myself that any amount of ICE I land could be important to Layla’s safety and to our scientific team. “That’s sugar pie honey bunch to you, darlin’.”
She laughs, wrapping her arm around mine. “I like how that sounds. Want some heat with your ICE?”
“Depends,” I drawl, my gaze shifting toward the bar, trying to find my mystery woman again, but my view is still blocked. Reluctantly, I flick my attention back to my ICE babe. “You gonna share a little ICE buzz with me first?”
“Whatcha gonna give me if I do?” she asks, stroking my arm.
The pull of that corner, that dark-haired stranger, drags my gaze away from her again, and holy fuck. Layla. It is Layla. I stand up, adrenaline pumping like gasoline through my body. She’s alive. Fuck yes. She’s alive.
The woman clings to me, her body blocking my path to Layla. “Where you going?”
“Beer goes right through me, baby,” I reply, untangling myself, only to find Layla missing. Damn it.
I charge to the bar and get in the face of the bartender. “The prim little black-haired princess who was standing here…Where did she go, and with who?”
“I’m not a babysitter,” he snaps.
I reach over the bar and yank him off his feet. The man’s eyes go wide, dilated, and filled with panic. “Headed out the backdoor with two of the regulars.”
I drop the man and shove my way through the crowd before cutting down the side hall, past the restrooms. I burst through the steel door exit and into a back delivery area for the hotel, a loading dock to my right. A muffled voice reaches my ears, cutting through the sound of the churning industrial fan inside the warehouse.
Easing under the open entrance of the dock, I survey the dimly lit warehouse but see nothing. A stealthy GTECH leap, and I’ve skipped the stairs, and I’m on the next level. Still nothing, no Layla. To my left, stacked pallets stretch in long, neat rows, as far back as they are high, the concrete floor that separates them shiny and clean.
I inch past several stacks to my left and go stone still, colder than any hit of ICE could make me. Layla is backed into a corner with the two men who were crowding her.
“Quid pro quo, baby,” one of the men says to her. “Pull that shirt up and show me what you got. You give me some of you, and I’ll give you ICE.”
I bolt into action. The only person touching Layla is me.
Chapter twenty-three
Jensen
I’m behind Layla’s attackers in five seconds flat, grabbing a handful of both men’s shirts and flinging them into a stack of pallets.
“Thank God, Layla,” I breathe out, shackling her arms, ready to hug her just to prove to myself she’s real.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses. “Stop chasing me.” Her eyes are wild, and she’s trembling.
“Layla, I’m not the enemy here.”
The sound of a gun cocking echoes through the open warehouse and high ceilings. Layla inhales sharply, and I don’t miss the difficulty that she has doing so.
“Get down on the ground, man, or I’ll shoot.” I rotate to find Mohawk guy pointing a Smith & Wesson at me.
I have half a mind to ignore the kid, but I need the ICE the kid has on him.
“Be right back,” I tell Layla over my shoulder, and refocus on the men, hands out to my sides. “Whatever gets you off, man. Take your best shot.”
Mohawk’s thin face puffs up with anger, and he actually pulls the trigger. The bullet hits me in the chest and bounces off my body armor like a rubber ball.
“That was fun,” I say sardonically. “But sorry. No time to do it again.” In a flash, I’ve closed the distance between myself and the two dealers. I snatch the weapon and turn it on Mohawk man. “Then again, maybe I should take a shot of my own. Quid pro quo, and all that shit. Right, asshole?”
“Look, man,” the punker says, his voice quaking. “He didn’t mean it. Just let us go.”
Mohawk dude holds his hands up in defeat. “Yeah, man. It was a joke.”
“Do I look amused?” I motion with my fingers. “Hand over your ICE, and that ain’t no joke.”
“We don’t have any—” Mohawk starts to say.
I fire at the ground, popping off two shots damn close to their feet, even as I cast Layla a quick inspection while the men squirm. She’s leaning against the wall, watching with wide eyes. Safe. That’s all that matters.
My lips twist with a wry taunt. “The next two bullets won’t hit the ground. Think of all those little bones in your feet blasted away by the steel force of a bullet.” I shake my head. “Ouch. That hurts just thinking about it. Even on an ICE high, that’s gonna bite like a bitch. After that, we’ll move upward.” I point the gun at Mohawk’s knee. Then his thigh. Then shove the gun toward his crotch. “About midway up is where all the fun starts. If I blow it off, will ICE grow it back? Wanna find out?”