Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [52]
He moved his mouth down the side of her neck, nipping slightly, and his breath was warm on her skin, his hands were moving up her thighs, slowly, his fingers threading through the long lace garters, and she moaned quietly, a soft, impossible sound of surrender.
“Shit.” The word muttered against the delicate skin of her neck was enough to throw her right out of the moment. Her eyes flashed open, and she looked into his, momentarily dazed.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head, silencing her, and the hot, stolen moments might never have happened. He was still pressed up against her, pinning her to the wall, but there was no sex in the air. There was violence.
“They’re here,” he mouthed.
“Shit,” she said, just a breath of sound.
His eyes met hers, for a long, silent moment, and she had the sudden, terrible feeling that he was saying goodbye. And then he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her, hard, practically throwing her across the room, so that she slammed against the computer chair, knocking over the small table and landing hard on the floor.
She scrambled as far back as she could into the corner, trying to stay out of the way of the melee. It seemed as if an army had invaded, and it took her a moment to realize there were only three of them, in their fancy suits and their pomaded hair, closing in on Reno.
He wasn’t going down without a fight. He was a blur of motion, leaping in the air and kicking one man in the throat, and the man went down, choking, as Reno spun around. He slammed his fist into the second man’s belly, then brought them down on his neck, knocking the man flat.
But the third man was on him, bigger, catching him around the neck and pulling his head back. Reno kicked out, struggling, but the man was too strong, and he was being pulled backward as he struggled, clawing at his captor’s hands.
He was going to die. The man would either choke him to death or break his neck, and then he’d turn to her. And she didn’t have any choice.
The gun had fallen on the floor when she’d knocked over the table, and she picked it up, cold, deadly metal, as Reno and his opponent flailed around the apartment. Reno was strong, knocking the man holding him back against the wall, but the man didn’t break his grip. She could hear Reno choking, and his struggles were getting frantic.
She should have said something. A warning, anything. She didn’t. The man smashed Reno down on the floor, and for a moment Reno lay still, dazed, staring up at him as the larger man loomed over him, and Jilly could see the gun in his hand, and there wasn’t any time.
She wouldn’t have thought it would be so easy. She pointed the gun and pulled the trigger, and the kickback knocked her hand up, the sound deafening in the tiny apartment. She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified.
She heard the thud of a body falling, but then nothing but someone’s labored breathing. Her own?
She knew someone was moving toward her, and she didn’t care who it was. She must be in shock, she thought dazedly. Any of those men could have gotten up and come after her, and it wouldn’t matter. If Reno was dead, then nothing mattered.
Someone squatted down in front of her, and she felt a hand touch her face. She flinched, but the hand was gentle, brushing the hair out of her face, and she recognized his touch, the scent of almond soap on his skin, and she knew she should open her eyes, just to make certain he was still alive, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move.
And then he leaned over and kissed