Disgusted with herself, she stuffed the chain back into her shirt and checked the time on her phone. Less than twenty minutes had passed since she left Vaughn at her apartment, and she still had fifteen minutes to wait until the bus arrived. Fifteen minutes too long for her liking.
A shadow fell across the pavement in front of her and she tensed, almost afraid to look up, but it was just a young man with a suitcase, waiting for the bus with his nose stuck in his phone. His headphones were so loud, she heard the tinny beat of his music over the passing traffic.
Not a threat.
She drew a breath to calm the jackhammering of her heart and leaned back against the tree. She hated this, the constant itch of paranoia, the jumping at shadows again. As Lark Warren, she’d settled into a somewhat normal life, enjoyed not having to constantly check over her shoulder, and she wanted that again. Had been trying to build that here in New Orleans.
Sure, waitressing wasn’t her favorite job, but she could do it blindfolded, and dancing had provided well enough that she hadn’t been living paycheck to paycheck. She’d had a good thing here, the best since she left DC, and Vaughn had to go and fuck it all up by tracking her down as if their short fling had given him that right.
Bastard. She should’ve tasered him.
Another shadow crossed in front of her, and her shoulders bunched in automatic reaction. She sucked in a calming lungful of the cool night and told herself to relax before she drew unwanted attention. It was probably just another passenger waiting for—
Large hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her up, trapping her against a hard body.
“Don’t,” Vaughn said, his voice a low rumble she felt in her own chest. Anyone looking on would only see a couple in an embrace.
“Let me go or I’ll scream.”
“You won’t. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
Dammit. She tried for another groin kick, but he lifted a leg, effortlessly blocking the strike with his thigh. He laughed softly, the sound without humor, and leaned in closer.
“Where is it, Lark?” His breath brushed her ear, and her traitorous body went haywire with hot memories of his breath fanning her inner thigh seconds before…
He shook her. “Where. Is. It?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jesus, she hadn’t meant to sound so breathless, but…actually, that might work to her advantage. He still wanted her—his obvious interest pressed into her belly—and the sex kitten tone was working on him like a drug.
Okay, then. There was no way she’d win against him in a battle of force, but if her years on the run had taught her nothing else, it was that sex could be just as deadly as any weapon.
She wiggled her hand between them and cupped his cock in her palm, squeezing lightly. His eyes flared, and his throat worked as he swallowed hard. He grabbed her wrist, and for half a heartbeat, he held her hand still against his fly.
Sage’s breaths came faster and her nipples tightened, scraping against the fabric of her bra.
Yes, sex was a weapon. But dammit, it only worked when she didn’t let herself get swept up in it.
Vaughn’s jaw tightened, and he yanked her hand away. She felt the cold snap of steel around her wrist before she saw the handcuffs. “What? No!”
“Yes. You’re coming back to DC with me,” he said, a rasp in his tone. She recognized it—the same as his sleepy, ready-for-morning-sex voice—and she clenched her thighs to ward off her body’s instant reaction.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He snapped the other cuff around his own wrist and held up his arm, rattled the chain. Her arm jiggled in response.
She scowled. “I’ll escape.”
He didn’t seem the least bit concerned. In fact, that arched brow of his looked a hell of a lot like amusement. “Yeah? You gonna chew off your own arm, vixen?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you? Sage? Lark? How about Summer? Violet?”
Her stomach dropped. She thought she’d covered her tracks well, but if Vaughn had discovered her past identities, it was only a matter of time…
Oh God.
As much as she despised Vaughn at the moment, she didn’t want him to wind up dead because of her. “You need to let me go before you or your brothers get hurt.”
“Threats now? Really?”
“I’m not threatening. It’s just…you have no idea—”
“Sounded like a threat. Walk.” He turned her toward the sidewalk and none-too-gently pushed her forward. “And threaten my brothers again, you won’t like the guy I turn into.”
“Hulk smash,” she muttered. She glared over at him. “I don’t like the guy you are now.”