Fast Burn. Lori Foster

arm and helped her to do that. Then he took that freakishly wicked weapon from her.

      Getting accidentally stabbed was not on the agenda.

      “You’ll get it back when we’re clear,” he breathed into her ear, then, “Ready?”

      “Yes.”

      He tucked a shoulder against her middle and silently lifted her, his arm around her thighs to help balance her. Lifting the binoculars, he checked the path he’d take. Night-vision goggles would have been nice, but they weren’t available in the Body Armor inventory.

      Later, he’d talk to Sahara about that.

      He let the binoculars drop back to his chest and eased out from behind the crates. “Once we hit the street, I’m going fast.”

      In answer, she grounded herself by clenching her hands in the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t worry about me. Just get us out of here.”

      Brand strode silently toward the opening. A moonlit night would have been welcome, but the scent of the storm still hung thick in the air. His feet had just cleared the garage when he heard the chaos behind him.

      Needing no more incentive than that, he ran flat out, first up the street, then into an alley so that he cut through to another street, then into an empty building, across the floor and back out to another alley. He paused, listening, but the sounds were distant now.

      “Put me down, please.”

      He did, letting her slide the length of his body, his hands going from her warm thighs to her shapely ass, to her small waist. He told himself he wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

      His dick told him he was a liar. “You okay?”

      “I think you broke a rib, but otherwise I’m fine.”

      Brand coasted a hand back up her body until he found her throat. He curved his hand there, using his thumb to tip up her face. “Did I really hurt you?”

      “No.” Her hand covered his. She stepped closer. “May I have my shiv back now?”

      Insane, but Brand smiled. Crazy, unpredictable, cool as a cucumber Sahara. “Do you actually know how to use it?”

      “Stab,” she whispered, “and twist.”

      He grimaced. “Yeah, that’d work.” He gave it to her, then said, “Stay right here. I’ll only be a second.”

      “It’s dark and I hear rats.”

      So there was something she feared? “They won’t bother you.”

      “I’ll skewer them if they do, but hustle up.”

      Tunneling his fingers into her hair as a guide, he bent and took her mouth in a firm, quick kiss.

      Before he did anything else stupid, he edged toward the front of the building. Holding very still, he listened, but didn’t hear anything.

      Miles said into his ear, “The van just sped away.”

      Damn. “All of the men?”

      “Two were carried out, but yeah, there were six of them.”

      “Sahara is going to be pissed.”

      “Somehow I get the feeling you’ll talk her around.”

      Hearing the note of humor in Miles’s voice, Brand said, “Fuck off.”

      Moving right past that, Miles asked, “She’s not hurt, is she?”

      “Hurt? She was planning a massacre.” Ready to get her to safety, he added, “We’ll head to the corner of South Street and Garfield. You can pick us up there.”

      “Dicey area. Watch yourself. I’ll head back to get the car and be there in five.”

      Brand returned to Sahara. She was right where he’d left her, eating M&M’s out of her purse. When she heard him coming, she asked, “Brand?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Have you eaten? Because I’m starved.”

      Would she ever cease to amaze him? He knew she had a hundred things on her mind, all of them more important than food. Then again, she was a pragmatist, especially when it came to basic needs.

      Her no-nonsense approach meant she’d be doubly disappointed to know she couldn’t question anyone, so he ignored the mention of food and broke the bad news. “I’m sorry, honey, but the goons took off.”

      She absorbed that in silence, then slammed her weapon against a rickety wall. “I told you I should have interrogated those men!”

      He caught her shoulders before she could begin pacing. “They were carried out, so my guess is they couldn’t have answered your questions, no matter how you tortured them.”

      “Oh, they’d have talked,” she promised in an evil voice.

      Brand grinned again. “You’re scary, you know that?” He kissed her once more, a little longer this time. “Mmm. You taste like chocolate.”

      “It’s the candy.”

      He went in for a deeper taste, and damn her, she let him. When he pulled back, she breathed, “I wanted to hold you so badly, but I have M&M’s in one hand and this trusty dagger in the other, so—”

      Later, he promised himself, then shook his head because he couldn’t seriously be thinking about going down that path. Everything Sahara did ultimately ended up back at the same place—with her need to find a brother who was no longer alive.

      For hopefully the last time, he took her trusty dagger from her and led her through the crumbling building and out to the street. At least the air was fresher here, even if everything dripped from the storm. “We have to meet Miles a few blocks up. It’s a nasty area so if anyone shows up, for the love of God, get behind me and let me handle it.”

      “Like a knight in shining armor?” She sighed. “So romantic. It’s almost like you were born to be a protector.”

      He huffed a laugh. “You never give up, do you?”

      “When I want something this much? No.”

      If she wanted him that much, he’d be flattered. But she wanted another employee and that was a whole different game.

      They made it to the corner without incident. It was a little busier here, more bustling with traffic passing and a few places lit up: a bar, a convenience store, a gas station. He watched as Sahara buttoned up her coat, tied the belt and turned up the collar.

      Her long hair curled a little from the stormy humidity and she looked so damned sexy, so sweet, all he could think about was having her.

      It was in part due to the adrenaline dump. Back in the day he’d been a regular street brawler and, to be honest, he’d loved it. But his mom hadn’t, and so he’d gotten his shit together, went legit and made it to the SBC.

      That was all up in the air again, though, and odds were, he’d have to quit after the next fight.

      But not yet.

      And not to be Sahara’s underling.

      “I’m cold.”

      “Is that a hint for me to warm you up?”

      “Could you?” Without waiting for an invite, she stepped in to him, her cheek against his chest.

      Feeling her shivers, he held her closer, his free hand wrapped in her hair. “How come you never wear it down?”

      “Because I’m the boss.”

      She said it like it made perfect sense. “Bosses can’t have long hair?”

      “Bosses have to look controlled.”

      Trying to figure her out, he asked, “And the clothes you