Holy shit.
Boone.
I threw the covers back and absently took the Taser with me as I rushed out of my room and down the hall.
All while Boone kept pounding and shouting at me to open the door.
This only stopped when he heard the deadbolt go.
I opened the door.
“Jeez, Boone, I’ve got neigh—”
I got no more out because Boone rushed me.
I dropped the Taser, tripped over my feet while retreating, almost fell to my ass, and while I was righting myself, he twisted, slammed my door, locked it…
And then it was back to the rush and retreat.
This time, I stumbled over the edge of the rug in my living room, but I didn’t go down because Boone’s arm sliced around my waist and he hauled me to his body, into which I collided with a thud.
I didn’t get the chance to process how good Boone’s tall, hard body felt plastered to mine.
His face was in my face.
And he was pissed.
“You get kidnapped, Kathryn, the…fucking…instant you get free, you…fucking…call me,” he gritted.
“I-I don’t actually have your number,” I whispered.
“Fuck!” he barked in my face.
I stood trembling in his hold, staring at him by the light of dawn coming from around my living room shades, wondering how, in less than twenty-four hours, my life had gone completely insane.
When he said nothing, just glowered down at me, I assured, “I’m all right, Boone.”
“You know what it’s like to get a call from your brother that tells you he just had a firefight in the parking lot of Cherry Creek Shopping Center, the woman you want in your bed was in the line of fire, he had to stand down, and they took her?”
Oh man.
That was me in that parking lot prior to my last kidnapping by Cisco.
“No,” I answered.
“Not…” his face got even closer, “good.”
I could have guessed that, though I had to admit, I didn’t think about it.
Until now.
“And now he got to you again?” he asked.
“He had a message to relay.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he had,” he bit. “Email. Phone. Sky writing. Goddamn carrier pigeon. He does not corner you.”
“It’s over, Boone, and I’m okay. It wasn’t that bad.”
“There is not a single kidnapping that is not bad.”
Yesterday, I would agree with that statement.
Now, I could argue that because I was actually fighting liking Brett. He seemed pretty cool.
I did not share these thoughts with Boone.
“Do you get what’s happening here?” he asked.
“Well, he said that he didn’t kill that—”
I stopped speaking abruptly when his free hand came up, sifted into the back of my hair, and then gripped it.
I thought he had my total attention before.
But that grip on my hair sent electricity shooting from my roots to my toes with extra concentration between my legs, and I reckoned my eyes would start bleeding, he had so much of my attention.
“That’s not what I mean, Ryn,” he stated.
“What do you mean, Boone?” I whispered.
“Do you get…” His face got even closer. So close, the side of his nose slid down the side of mine and I could feel his breath on my lips. “…what is happening here?”
Okay.
Really.
I was a pretty tough chick.
But…
I give.
I could take no more.
I mean, how could this day get more whacked?
Or, as it was, a new day start this whacked?
“You’ve already been mean to me in the last twenty-four hours, Boone,” I told him in a weak voice. “I can hack a lot, but I ca—” unsurprisingly, that weak voice broke, but I pulled it together, “I can’t take any more.”
I watched and could swear I felt his lashes sweep down when he closed his eyes.
“I lost the kids.”
His eyes opened and his head moved back a smidge.
“What?” he asked.
“I confronted Angelica. She says she’s not going to let me see the kids anymore. I had her using me this morning. You up in my shit right after. Her taking the kids away from me after that. Work. Cisco. Now you again, totally pissed at me. I can’t. I’m tired. And I’m freaked out. And I just can’t. Not today. Not from you. Especially from you. No more.”
His fist loosened in my hair, but he didn’t let it go, so I felt my hair, and his knuckles, glide along my jaw.
It felt amazing.
God!
Didn’t he hear me?
I couldn’t take any more.
“You gotta go,” I said.
“Ryn, I’m seein’ you are not taking in what’s going on here.”
“You’re pissed at me again. And I can’t believe I have to point out that I didn’t kidnap me.”
“When did you call Mag?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe half an hour ago.”
“And where am I right now?”
I blinked, repeatedly, fast.
Oh.
“It sinks in,” he said softly.
“You told me you didn’t like me not twenty-four hours ago.”
“I was pissed at you not twenty-four hours ago,” he returned. “I want to take you out to dinner. I want to take you to my bed. And eventually, I wanna tie you to it. And I’m used to getting what I want.”