Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (109 page)

Cruz wouldn’t let her down.

He squeezed her hand, and then they again set off.

They walked at a fast but not too fast clip, Cruz keeping her hand in his as he scanned the crowd. He’d known they would stick out at least a little, but Cruz wanted to blend with the tourists and crowd as much as he could, so he couldn’t move too hastily, tried to keep up the front of two Americans out for a visit.

But every second they spent outside had him on the edge.

“It’s very impressive, and so much different than home,” Nola said, breaking into his thoughts. Her usually quiet voice was raised because she had to speak loudly to be heard over the crowd. Her eyes were bright, some of the tension and stress that had crowded her eyes fading, even if only slightly.

“Different from anywhere,” he said as he guided them through a narrow street. “What do you think so far?” Cruz asked.

“Circumstances aside, it’s pretty incredible,” she said.

But she wasn’t paying attention to him, instead watching one of the card games that was taking place in a shop entryway before moving to the coconut vendor who dragged a bundle of fruit down the crowded sidewalk.

Good.

He wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, and if the excitement of the city distracted her from her plight, he could stay sharp and on the lookout until they reached their destination.

They were getting closer, but Cruz wouldn’t relax until they were where they needed to be.

“Nola, do you want to—”

An unmistakable
boom
drowned out his words.

Chapter Ten

Nola heard the loud sound and the others that followed it and turned toward the noise. But all she saw was the crowd scattering, the group descending into chaotic screaming and running.

She squeezed Cruz’s hand and stared at him, confused, but he was not. As he’d been at the hotel, an icy calm seemed to overtake him, and his face was set in a determined mask. His gaze swept over the crowd, and then he moved.

But Nola was stuck, confusion and fear sealing her feet to the ground. Not even when another series of small booms sounded, closer than the last, did she move.

“They’re shooting at us, Nola, and we have to move. Now.”

Cruz spoke calmly as if this was an everyday occurrence, which for him it might have been. But when he clamped his hand down around hers, she felt his urgency, and it snapped her out of the haze that had cocooned her. He started to run, pulling Nola behind him. She kept up as best she could, his hand tight around hers, and the whizz of bullets buzzing past her leaving her no choice but move forward. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she’d lulled herself into thinking this wouldn’t be so bad. A grave error on her part, she saw now.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Chips of concrete from the building that they ran past shattered off and Nola jumped and grabbed her cheek.

When she felt warm stickiness coating her fingers, she ran harder.

••••

Fuck! Fuck!

He’d fucked up. He hadn’t thought that whoever was after Nola would come to such a public place, but he’d been mistaken, and now he and Nola were running for their lives.

The safe house was a couple of miles away. He would have made it easily on his own, but there was her to consider. He turned to her, noted the smear of red on her cheek, saw eyes wide with the terror that had only so recently left them.

Their pursuers seemed to be falling behind, the swarming crowd making the approach difficult. This was their chance. He ran faster and then ducked into a side street, pulling Nola behind him as he ran through even more card games, ignoring the vendors who called to them. And Nola kept up, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace indefinitely.

“It’s not too far,” he called back to her.

She nodded, and breathed deeply, chest heaving with exertion, face wet with sweat. But she didn’t stop moving. With each step, Cruz anticipated more bullets, but none came. Still, he didn’t slow, didn’t even think about it, wouldn’t until they’d reached their destination.

When he spotted the building, he finally slackened the pace, but stayed alert for any sign of trouble. He didn’t see anything, the sleepy neighborhood typical of the apartment blocks assigned to midlevel Communist Party and military officials. In fact, it was almost idyllic, and Cruz hoped it would hold.

Using the key that Ace had left him, he entered the building.

Nola heard the loud sound and the others that followed it and turned toward the noise. But all she saw was the crowd scattering, the group descending into chaotic screaming and running.

She squeezed Cruz’s hand and stared at him, confused, but he was not. As he’d been at the hotel, an icy calm seemed to overtake him, and his face was set in a determined mask. His gaze swept over the crowd, and then he moved.

But Nola was stuck, confusion and fear sealing her feet to the ground. Not even when another series of small booms sounded, closer than the last, did she move.

“They’re shooting at us, Nola, and we have to move. Now.”

Cruz spoke calmly as if this was an everyday occurrence, which for him it might have been. But when he clamped his hand down around hers, she felt his urgency, and it snapped her out of the haze that had cocooned her. He started to run, pulling Nola behind him. She kept up as best she could, his hand tight around hers, and the whizz of bullets buzzing past her leaving her no choice but move forward. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she’d lulled herself into thinking this wouldn’t be so bad. A grave error on her part, she saw now.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Chips of concrete from the building that they ran past shattered off and Nola jumped and grabbed her cheek.

When she felt warm stickiness coating her fingers, she ran harder.

••••

Fuck! Fuck!

He’d fucked up. He hadn’t thought that whoever was after Nola would come to such a public place, but he’d been mistaken, and now he and Nola were running for their lives.

The safe house was a couple of miles away. He would have made it easily on his own, but there was her to consider. He turned to her, noted the smear of red on her cheek, saw eyes wide with the terror that had only so recently left them.

Their pursuers seemed to be falling behind, the swarming crowd making the approach difficult. This was their chance. He ran faster and then ducked into a side street, pulling Nola behind him as he ran through even more card games, ignoring the vendors who called to them. And Nola kept up, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace indefinitely.

“It’s not too far,” he called back to her.

She nodded, and breathed deeply, chest heaving with exertion, face wet with sweat. But she didn’t stop moving. With each step, Cruz anticipated more bullets, but none came. Still, he didn’t slow, didn’t even think about it, wouldn’t until they’d reached their destination.

When he spotted the building, he finally slackened the pace, but stayed alert for any sign of trouble. He didn’t see anything, the sleepy neighborhood typical of the apartment blocks assigned to midlevel Communist Party and military officials. In fact, it was almost idyllic, and Cruz hoped it would hold.

Using the key that Ace had left him, he entered the building.

For the second time in as many days, Nola thought her heart might explode out of her chest. She’d never run that far, that fast in her entire life, had never had reason to. But the way she felt in those moments after they entered the apartment, she wished she had kept going. Maybe if she ran hard enough, long enough, she’d find a way out of this mess and back to her real life.

She’d been shot at.
Shot
at!

She cursed herself yet again for her foolishness. Ice-cold papaya smoothies and back massages and maybe a resort-sponsored hike had been on her agenda, and instead she’d gotten crazy soldier guys, dead bodies in her hotel room, not to mention being shot at! Clearly, the universe was trying to tell her something, the first message being that she couldn’t trust her judgment.

Seven years with Carl, gleefully oblivious to the joke that was their relationship. Then, her stupid brain had told her to branch out, see the world, live! And here she was, lungs burning with exertion because she was running for her life from a band of gun-toting killers.

“Nola.”

The gravely whispered word drew her attention to Cruz, and rage strong enough to shake down the building erupted through her.

His eyes widened slightly, and she wondered what he saw. A rage-filled woman intent on taking out some of her frustration on whoever was closest? A meek, pathetic rat who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time? But the other part of her, the part that was making it possible for her to keep a hold on the last vestiges of her sanity, didn’t give a shit. Because this was all his fault.

Nola wasn’t prone to violence, couldn’t recall the last time the impulse had struck her, not even when Carl had discarded her like last week’s trash. But Cruz with the slight strain of worry and sympathy on his otherwise-calm face, inspired near-homicidal rage. She clenched her fist, ready to strike, and pictured her hand connecting with that chiseled jaw.

Quick as a viper, Cruz approached and grasped her hand, his bulky form towering over her, intimidating enough to make anyone sane cower. But sanity had left the minute Nola had switched seats on that damned airplane.

“Don’t touch me!” she screeched, trying to pull her hand from his iron grip.

“You’re not hit, are you?” he asked, voice so soft it was as if it was threaded through with satin. As he spoke, he used his other hand to grip her face and swiped at the scratches on her cheek, seemingly oblivious to the way she struggled.

“Take your hands off me!”

He didn’t respond, and instead stroked her cheek yet again, then captured her gaze with his own. The softness and concern she saw there was her undoing. How dare he look at her like that, like he cared? He had no right, not when he’d done this to her.

The rage spiked until Nola thought she would pass out. She tugged, trying to free her hand, but his grip didn’t slacken, and before she could even think to strike out with her other, he’d grabbed it too, trapping her.

“It looks like you got a couple of scrapes from shrapnel,” he said, the easy tone of his voice completely at odds with his tight hold on her hands.

“Let me go, Cruz,” she said. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but she couldn’t do either, didn’t think she’d be able to stop if she started. But the rage, she could focus on that. It would ground her.

“Nola, I know how you feel, but you’re safe, okay? Just hold it together a little longer for me.”

His voice was even softer now, and the words, earnest and brimming with conviction, and so soothing that they flowed over her frayed nerves like a caress, made her want to fall into them, were almost enough to make her forget that she’d been shot at.

Almost.

“Get your hands off me!” Nola exclaimed, pulling against his grasp with all her might, not recognizing the voice that came out of her mouth.

Cruz recoiled, his eyes widening, but his grip didn’t loosen. She tugged even harder this time, her body quaking with the effort, her frustration rising with each breath.

“So this is what you do! Almost get me killed and touch me when I ask you not to!”

He abruptly let go, and she ignored the cold feeling that came over her at the loss of his touch and instead stayed focused on that rage.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice unreadable.

“W-what does that mean?” she asked after the momentary shock passed.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he said. “Punch me, yell, do whatever. I need you focused, and if hurting me, or trying to, anyway, is going to get your head back on straight, let’s go.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing how massive it was, how solid he looked. She curled her fist, torn between excitement and fear. She lifted her hand, ready to release at least some of the rage that still flowed through her like lava.

And then she waited.

And waited.

She dropped her hand, and when her fist slapped against her thigh, the contact set off a shock wave of tremors. They rolled through her body, and she worried that she herself might fall apart.

Cruz hadn’t looked away, didn’t even seem to have blinked, and Nola could see the concern in his face, the way his expression morphed into sympathy. But she couldn’t stop shaking, and Cruz’s face faded behind the blur of tears that sprang into her eyes.

“No. Don’t do that,” he said.

He cupped her face with his big hands, but still the tears fell, and Nola didn’t think they’d ever stop. Rough thumbs stroked along her cheeks, catching the tears as they rolled down her face.

“Nola, it’s okay. I have you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

“Y-you… It… I…” Nola tried and failed to speak around the gasping sobs that shook her frame even more.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders, squeezed them, and held her gaze with his.

“I’ll take care of you,” Cruz said.

“Y-you…”

“Nola!” he said.

His stern voice shocked her into stillness, and when her eyes cleared, she took in the harsh set of his face, the resolve there. She focused on that, used it as the center that had escaped her when her rage fled.

His blue eyes, so incongruously warm, held hers, and as she watched, she saw desire flare in them. Her body told her to move, but her mind made her stay still. She’d been so wrong about everything…surely this couldn’t be any different.

Minutes ago, she’d been threatening him with violence. It was silly to think that he wanted her now, would want her ever. So no matter how much his eyes seemed to say different, Nola wouldn’t trust what she saw; she had gotten herself into enough trouble already.

He moved his thumb across her cheek and then scraped her lips. His thumb was rough against her lips, and Nola was seized by the unshakable need to feel that roughness against her tongue. She parted her lips and pushed her tongue out, swiping it across the digit.