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Rather than be offended, he seems even more amused. “Or what?”
“Or…” I lick my lips and consider my options.
“Or you’ll spring the bat you’re hiding and try to hit me?” He arches a brow. “Or hit my car?”
“I don’t have a bat,” I say instantly.
It’s a stupid thing to lie when one—I do have a bat and two—I ran all the way here with the very purpose of committing property damage and maybe some light bodily harm.
Bolton doesn’t argue with me. He simply steps to the left, reaches out and latches onto my weapon. I grunt and shake him loose.
Wielding the bat over my head, I make a desperate grasp for the upper hand. But I’m too clumsy about it. And he’s too prepared. With a quickness that takes my breath away, Bolton grabs my waist, whirls me around and pins me to his car. In the blink of an eye, I’m trapped against the broad width of his chest and the truck door.
I grunt.
He doesn’t so much as lose his breath.
“Let me go!” I wiggle to be free.
Bolton is like a mountain on top of me. He holds me there with his bulk, a rough hand gripping my wrist and holding the bat high so it looks like we’re some weird, couple version of The Statue of Liberty.
“I wondered when you’d go beast mode,” I snarl.
“And I wondered why you came when I called.” His voice is quiet. Intimate. Like we’re talking about how he wants me to behave when I take off my clothes for him.
I freeze, staring into his eyes and growing more and more aware of how close his lips are to mine.
Damn. I can’t deny his masculine charm. He’s got the personality of Hades and the face of an angel. Something must have gone wrong when God was handing out personalities. He saddled Bolton with a crappy one and decided to hide it by giving him a chiseled face.
“Let me go or lose a limb,” I croak.
The threat would have gone a lot further if my heart wasn’t two seconds away from cardiac arrest.
“I cannot trust Regan to someone with a criminal record.” He leans down, closing the gap between my mouth and his. “Have you done this before, Miss Hayes? Bashed someone’s windows? Keyed their car? Urinated—”
“I have never urinated in anything but a toilet.”
Bolton smiles.
A full-on, GQ model, laugh-lines-triggering smile.
My brain slips out of my head and hits the ground.
So does the bat.
My loins get tingly.
“Was this the plan? Step one was smash my car. Step two—did you even have a step two?”
“Get a loan from your bank to pay you back for the car I smashed.”
His smile gets wider.
My loins get tinglier.
“You’re very charming when you’ve lost your temper. Has anyone told you that?”
“Only a soldier would be turned on by violence.”