Laws of Attraction (25 page)

An efficient sandy-haired paramedic appeared out of the melee, took Mia’s vitals and pronounced her unhurt, but with slight smoke inhalation. He triaged her, hanging a green tag around her neck proclaiming her low medical priority. For which she was profoundly grateful.

Against Dallas’ objections, she made him get checked out as well, and the paramedic pronounced him good to go. Which, considering that he’d charged through a savage wall of fire to save her life, she considered a miracle from heaven.

“Mia?” She looked up to see Zane jogging toward them, a water bottle in each hand. Black smudges streaked his hard-planed features, and shallow cuts oozed blood from his forehead and left cheekbone. “You’re okay! I tried … I couldn’t … I couldn’t reach you. I don’t know how the fuck Dallas did.”

Dallas’ soot-streaked face was pale, his eyes haunted. “I almost didn’t.”

Mia ran her tongue around her dry mouth in a futile attempt to banish the taste of ashes. Coughed again. “How’s Esteban? And
ohmigod
—Soledad—did you see her anywhere? Do you know if she made it out?”

Zane leaned down, handed her and Dallas each a water bottle. She gulped eagerly, the cool liquid soothing her burning throat.

“Whoa, go easy there, sweetheart.” Dallas rubbed her back in slow circles. “Drink that too fast, and we’ll both be sorry.”

“Montoya’s in an ambulance on the way to Mercy Hospital.” Zane thrust a not-quite-steady hand through his hair. “Looked like the bullet just grazed his thick skull, thanks to you. Soledad is with him, she’s shaken but unhurt. That end of the factory didn’t get hit as bad.” His upper lip curled. “Not a dull moment when you’re around. That shooter another of your fans?”

“
Not
funny, Wolfe,” Dallas warned through clenched teeth.

“It’s maybe a little bit funny,” Mia said. “And the disaster was so
not
my fault this time. The sniper was after Esteban, and you know it.”

“The cops want statements from both of you,” Zane said.

“They can damned well wait.” Dallas gently grasped Mia’s arms and lifted her to her feet. “We need to stop jawing and get you to the hospital for a look-see.”

Nausea curdled her stomach. “No!” she croaked. “No hospital! I’m fine.” She clutched his shirtfront. “The paramedic said I was okay. Please, Dallas, please don’t make me go to the hospital.”

He embraced her. “Had enough of that as a kid, didn’t you?”

Far too much. Strapped down, prodded, hurting and helpless, forced to fib about falling off her bike or tripping down the stairs.

The world started to spin.

“Baby, it’s all right,” Dallas soothed. “I’ll take care of you.”

She gritted her teeth, wrenching every drop of self-control, every ounce of strength from deep inside. She was
not
going to hurl. Or scream. Or cry. “I just want to go home.”

Holding her tight, he sighed, his heartbeat thundering beneath her ear. “If you can walk to the Jeep without any help, I’ll skip the hospital and take you directly home.”

* * *

Dallas paced his bedroom, acid roiling in his belly while he waited for Mia to finish her shower. She wasn’t as steady as she was pretending to be, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t slip, or pass out.

The second he’d realized Death’s bony claws had reached out to grab her, the entire world had lurched to a halt.

And now every time he opened his damned mouth something reckless—something irrevocable—nearly shot out.

So he’d locked down his emotions, executed the necessary compartmentalization. Kept his mind and his mouth firmly shut.

Mia had not only walked on her own to the car, she’d insisted on a stop at the police station before they came home, so she could give a statement and enlist a sketch artist while the incident was fresh. Dallas had studied the big man’s stout, leathery features until he was sure he could recognize that face in the dark at fifty paces.

Reluctant admiration for his wife warred with frustration, fear, and raging, unwanted desire. Few civilians had the wits and courage to survive a firefight, battle the backlash of nearly being burned alive in an explosion, then retain the presence of mind to describe the man who’d tried to kill them.

His wife had a backbone of tungsten.

But being an eyewitness to the attempt on Esteban would move her to the top of the cartel’s hit list. He fisted his hands, fighting the urge to punch a hole through the wall. He’d promised to defend her … and then he’d put her directly into the enemy’s sights.

He needed to make her his so badly he ached with longing. Dallas caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the bureau. The ruby in his left ear gleamed back at him, an accusing beacon of guilt. Selfish thoughts, selfish needs.

The earring was there to remind him that the last time he’d been selfish, his baby sister had paid with her blood.

His jaw tightened until he thought it might snap. This situation with Montoya and the Graysons was reaching flashpoint. All he had to do was stay in control, keep his hands off Mia, keep her alive long enough to finish this … and then muster the strength to do her the biggest favor of all … walk out of her life.

Sorrow knifed his heart.

Way, way easier fucking
said
than done.

The bathroom door snicked open, and Mia emerged wearing one of his shirts, her shiny hair damp and tousled, her dewy skin as sweetly fragrant as the pink rose petals she liked. He knew she had on the Marvin Martian panties he’d bought her, because she’d carried them into the bathroom with his shirt beforehand. He also knew, that just like himself, she had her emotions firmly harnessed.

Dallas hated to admit it, but they shared more than a few similar traits.

She smiled at him, and his heart stumbled. “You want the shower now? The steam really helped clear the remaining smoke from my lungs and ease the stiffness from my muscles. I’m sure it’ll help you, too.”

“Yeah. As soon as I get you settled in.”

“Other than a slightly scratchy throat and a few aches, I’m fine.” She brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I know what you overcame, what it cost you to run straight into those flames for me today, and I can never, ever repay you. I owe you my life.”

His gut twisted. He’d frozen outside that factory for long, horrible moments. If he hadn’t pulled himself together—

Shit
. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. “I did what I had to,” he said gruffly. “Go downstairs and rest. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Take your time. See you there.”

Mia walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, resolutely keeping her mind blank. She would not fall apart. Would not cry.

Dallas had enough to deal with at the moment, between the awful memories the explosion must’ve trigged inside him and trying to wrap up this dangerous mission they’d embarked on together. The last thing he needed was a whiny, clinging female blubbering all over him.

She’d almost cost him the ultimate price today. She refused to distract or endanger him any further.

She lit the gas fireplace in the living room, then busied herself in the kitchen making coffee and opening cans of tomato soup to set on the burner on low heat.

By the time the coffee was done, and before the soup was even warm, he strode into the kitchen. In a white tank shirt and black drawstring pants, his feet bare, his tall, lean body and dark hair still damp and smelling of warm, clean man and pine forests, the sight of him almost undid her hard-won composure.

She stuck her head in the fridge, pulled out a block of cheddar and the butter. “Wow, that must be a world’s record for showering.”

“Didn’t want to leave you alone too long.” He laid his phone on the countertop. “Why the hell are you cooking?”

“Because I’m hungry, and I figured you might be, too.”

“Mia—”

She opened the bread. “You like grilled cheese? One or two sandwiches?”

“I can grill my own damned sandwich. Go sit down.”

“Moving around makes me feel better. Probably still all that extra adrenaline.”

He growled. “And when it crashes, you’re gonna hit bottom fast.”

She set a skillet on the front burner, flipped the knob to medium high. “Well, when that happens, I’ll sit down. In all the excitement, I forgot to ask, were you able break into Esteban’s safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Well? C’mon, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Remember I told you he’s old-fashioned, doesn’t trust modern technology? Apparently, he also believes in having a rainy day fund that’s not in any bank. It was crammed full of money. An ass-load of hundred-dollar bills, in the millions.”

“
Wow
. No intel, though?”

“Nope. Wherever he’s keeping his information, it wasn’t in there.”

They ended up making and grilling sandwiches together. Then they sat at the island to eat them in taut silence, the turbulent, unspoken emotions ricocheting between them scarier and more dangerous than bullets.

Mia had walked over to put her empty plate and bowl in the sink, and turned to pour another cup of coffee when Dallas’ phone chimed.

He looked at the screen. Snatched it up. “Zane.” He listened. “Yeah, okay.” Dallas frowned at Mia. “
What
?” A hurricane of reactions stormed across his face. He rubbed his forehead. “All right. Thanks.” He disconnected the call.

“How’s Esteban?”

“Lost enough blood to weaken him, and he has a concussion and an irregular EKG. Due to his age, they’re keeping him several days to recover, and they want to run some cardiac tests. But he’ll make it. Zane and Carlos will take shifts guarding him and switching back to the house with Soledad, so I can watch over you.”

“I appreciate that, but honestly, I—”

“The cartel will have a bounty on your head by now. They don’t leave witnesses behind.” Dallas prowled over to where she stood. His hand shook as he cupped her cheek, urging her to meet his cobalt laser gaze. “Zane said you threw yourself into the line of fire. Saved Montoya’s life.”

“Not really. I saw the guy, saw the gun, and then suddenly, I … I … was shoving Esteban out of the way. Hardly a death-defying act.”

“
Jesus Christ
, Mia.” He stared at her, chest heaving, expression stricken. Then he turned his back and propped his palms on the fridge, head down. She could barely hear his tortured whisper. “What am I going do with you?”

“Dallas—”

He whipped back to face her again, jaw set. “When I got there and … I saw the smoke, the flames— When I found out you were trapped inside, I locked up—” He stabbed trembling fingers through his hair. “I couldn’t— I can’t—
Goddammit
!”

He grabbed her and pushed her against the refrigerator door, crushing his mouth to hers. His tongue swept inside with desperate hunger. His lips alternately caressed and plundered, while steely arms banded around her as if he would never let her go.

Dazed, she went still. His trembling increased, his kiss deepened, until his taut body vibrated with restrained violence. Keeping his mouth fused to hers, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

His solid strength pinned her in place, his tongue plundered, his hands ravished. An inferno ignited inside. As if wracked with fever, she flashed both hot and cold.

His savage possession should have terrified her. Instead, her inhibitions evaporated. She gripped his broad shoulders and kissed him back.

He staked a warrior’s claim, consuming her. Branding her as his. His devastating mouth commanded her, binding her to him with the heat of his passion. Swamped by his hot, male scent and his dark, heady taste, rational thought fled.

He pressed closer, forcing her thighs wider apart, the thick ridge of his erection grinding into her clit and flooding her with molten heat. Mia’s fingers curled into his silky hair and she arched closer.

When hot, callused palms shoved beneath her shirt to squeeze her breasts, the fierce shock of need jolted her. She wanted to give him everything she’d always held back. Everything she’d always hidden.

She heard a whimper, only dimly aware the sound came from her own throat.

Dallas wrenched back, breaking the contact, and her legs nearly folded before she managed to stand upright, dragging in ragged breaths.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the counter, sweeping his dishes to the floor to land in a clatter of broken shards. “Get out!”

There was no fear, only confusion. “Wh-what?”

“Go upstairs,” he gritted. “And stay there until morning.”

“Dallas—”

“Dammit, just
go
. Get out of my sight.”

“Okay.” Understanding he’d lashed out in distress—because as she knew all too well, anger was easier to handle than grief and terror—she turned and walked away.

* * *

Dallas leaned on the counter, eyes closed, lungs straining for air as he listened to Mia’s departing footsteps. He’d come
so close
to losing her.

Five minutes
.

If he’d delayed leaving the restaurant even five minutes, Mia would’ve died.

She’d blown into his life like a sunny whirlwind and swept away a measure of his pain. She’d made him laugh, and banished most of the dark shadows that haunted him. At every turn, she’d surprised, amazed, intrigued him, annoyed the hell out of him, and challenged him.

The thought slammed into him like a baseball bat to the gut.

And he loved her.

Fear stabbed an icy blade into his chest, and he jerked. He wouldn’t. He
couldn’t
.

But damn his soul, he did.

And this was one battle he had no idea how to fight.

* * *

Upstairs, Mia lay in bed watching the moon glow through the trees. She’d spent the past four restless hours coming to some startling conclusions. Staring into the face of death had sharpened her vision to crystal clear.

A smart woman admitted when she’d been wrong, and changed course.

All this time she’d obstinately clung to her pride, doing things her own way, and constantly pushing Dallas away.