Page 153 of Carnal Urges

“You and me both.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “All right. Get your things together and say goodbye to Nat.”

When he turns to leave, I say, “Kage?”

He turns back, waiting.

“How can you be sure all the information about you is gone now?”

His smile is small, so small it’s almost nonexistent. “Your Irishman isn’t the only one with a contact inside the bureau.”

He knows someone who works inside the FBI? Oh shit. What does that mean? Does he know Declan’s a spy?

Panic makes my heart beat like thunder. It’s difficult to keep my expression perfectly neutral, but I think I manage it.

Kage’s smile grows wider. “When I told him that, there was this weird pause on the other end of the line. He was probably wearing the same expression you’re wearing right now.”

I wait until he’s out of sight before I collapse against the wall.

Down in the parking garage of the building, Nat and I stand beside each other, holding hands behind a line of armed Russians. Kage stands in front of his men, arms crossed over his chest.

When a big black Escalade pulls in, the men raise their rifles and point them at the car.

Picturing Declan dying in a hail of bullets right in front of me, I smother a gasp and squeeze Nat’s hand tighter.

The SUV pulls to a stop. Declan opens the driver’s door and gets out. His eyes find mine. The hunger in them is palpable.

Beside me, Nat murmurs, “Whoa. His eyes are so blue.”

Kage shoots her a sour look over his shoulder.

Declan walks slowly around the front of the SUV, adjusting his tie and licking his lips as he looks straight at me, ignoring everyone else and their guns.

“That’s far enough,” orders Kage.

Declan stops. The two men assess each other for a moment. Kage’s men are restless, fingers on triggers, itching to pull. The tension in the air is so thick, I want to scream. Nat’s hand in mine trembles.

Only Declan and Kage remain calm.

Maintaining eye contact with Kage, Declan says, “Say goodbye to your girlfriend, baby.”

His voice is smooth and untroubled, but I hear the need underneath. It fills me with something buoyant and expansive, like helium.

Nat and I throw our arms around each other and hug.

She whispers into my ear, “Holy cow, he’s intense.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”

“Because the only time I talked to him, he was threatening to dump your mutilated body on our doorstep.”

“He’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s more dramatic than me. But he’s actually a pussycat. I promise.”

She sighs. “Call me the minute you get settled.”