Ah. Now he knew the plan. Damn she was smart. He just hoped he could keep up with her.
The bartender placed a drink on the counter in front of Naiya. Although Holt was pretty sure they’d thrown the cop off the scent, he didn’t want the moment to end. He had never seen this side of Naiya before. She was beautiful in her anger, her face flushed, eyes glittering. Her sharp mind and quick wit were almost as arousing as her heaving breasts and plump, moist lips.
“Babe.” He patted her stomach. “I told you. No drinking while you’re pregnant with my boy.”
How he managed to keep a straight face as she choked on her words, eyes wide and filled with the promise of retribution, he didn’t know.
“I didn’t buy it.” She gestured at the cop. “Michael did.”
Michael’s hands shot up, palms forward in a defensive gesture that made Holt want to fist pump with both fists. “I didn’t know she was pregnant. My mistake.”
Temptation curled inside him. Words he shouldn’t say. They’d played the game long enough and it was high time they got out. Now that he knew she hid a little spitfire inside, he had no doubt she would kill him the minute they left the bar. But how could he not? He’d never met a woman with this kind of fire. And maybe they could use it as an excuse to get away.
Digging his fingers into his left palm so he could play out the rest of the scene without dissolving in laughter, he patted her stomach and scowled at Michael. “Seriously? You didn’t know? You think she got a belly like this from eating too many pizzas?”
“What?” Naiya shrieked and jumped up so quickly her stool toppled over. “I am getting on that bus, and you are not coming with me.”
“You’d better have that drink.” Michael pushed the glass over to Holt, his silver ring tapping on the glass. Something twigged at the back of Holt’s mind. A memory. Faint. Something about that ring. Many rings. But he couldn’t place it. He took a grateful sip of the drink. Although not a fan of girly drinks, right now any kind of alcohol was good.
“Appreciated.” Holt stood and gave Michael an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about this.” He leaned in and whispered loud enough for Naiya to hear. “It’s the pregnancy hormones. She was like this with the other four kids, too.”
“Four?” Michael’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t look that old.”
“She wears a lot of makeup to hide all the wrinkles.”
“Shoot him,” Naiya said to Michael. “Put me out of my misery.”
“Afraid I can only shoot criminals.” Michael stifled a laugh. “He doesn’t seem like a criminal to me.”
“He is a criminal,” Naiya muttered. “Criminally insane.” She stalked out of the bar and Holt threw a few bills on the counter. “Sorry about the trouble. Thanks for looking after her for me.”
He inspected the fed’s car as he exited the building. Typical black sedan with blacked-out windows and the usual oddities on the plates: non-random lettering, reflective sheeting and a hologram of an American eagle. Resisting the urge to slash the vehicle’s tires, he made his way to the side of the building where Naiya was waiting, but he didn’t get the welcome he’d expected.
“You said I was fat.” She slapped him on the chest. “I don’t care if it was all pretend. I hate it when men dismiss a woman’s anger as hormones. It’s … sexist.”
Slap.
“And demeaning.”
Slap.
“And patronizing.”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Fuck. All his life he’d gone for the loud women. Brash, confident and outgoing. Naiya was different. Quiet and gentle. Smart and quirky with a sense of humor that matched his own. But hell, when she was riled she had a fire inside that blew his mind. She needed protecting but she was no victim. She was broken but needed no glue. She’d held her own against that cop, and she’d planned to leave Holt and travel alone across the state. And now she was slapping him on the damn chest, pissed off at a fight they hadn’t really had, about something that wasn’t even true.
He’d never been so turned on in his life.
Holt grabbed her hands and pushed her up against the wall, pinning her wrists to the cold brick surface. “Fuck woman. It wasn’t real.”
“Oh it was real. I saw it in your face. But I’m so not the kind of woman who is going to dress up for you every night and cook your supper and blow you while you drink your beer.”
“But you are the kind of woman I’m gonna fuck until she screams.” Unable to restrain himself any longer, he kicked her legs apart and ground his erection against her hips. “’Cause fuck me, babe, I have never been so damn jacked. You in there. Your fire. Your smarts. The fucking adrenaline pumping as you played that cop. It was all I could do not to push you over the counter and take you right in front of the whole damn bar.”