Page 167 of Carnal Urges

Running bloodyfast. This girl is really moving.

I stifle another flash of admiration and run harder, pumping my arms and legs, dodging oncoming traffic and ignoring the blaring horns. Within moments, I’ve almost got her.

I’m also soaking wet.

And extremely fucking aggravated.

She glances over her shoulder and sees me close behind. She’s trapped. We both know it. Parked cars line both sides of the street, packed together bumper to bumper as they always are in this part of the city. If she slows to squeeze between them, I’ll have her.

Then she veers sharply right and does something so unexpected I almost stumble.

In one long leaping stride, she jumps up onto the hood of a parked car and uses it as a springboard to launch herself to the sidewalk beyond.

It’s effortless. It looks professional, like she spends her days jumping on and off large wet objects in her bare feet while fleeing her kidnappers.

Another flash of admiration is followed by the uncomfortable sense that I might be dealing with more than I bargained for.

She lands in a crouch, pops right back up, and disappears around a corner.

The rain and the traffic noise must be messing with my hearing, because I could swear I hear her laughing as she goes.

DELETED SCENE #3

DECLAN

Whether it’s opening a business, starting a relationship, or going to war with your sworn enemy after he killed a few of your men, the beginning of any new venture is the most important time. What happens at the start sets the tone for everything that follows.

My point is that when things begin badly, they have a tendency to stay that way.

Which, considering my current situation, is concerning.

Kidnapping a woman shouldn’t be this fucking hard.

“Go get her, Kieran.”

He snorts. “I like my balls where they are, boss.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

He looks at Sean, curled into a ball on the wet ground, his eyes squeezed shut in pain, cupping his groin and weakly groaning. Then Kieran looks at the woman standing over him in the street.

Chin up, fists clenched, eyes blazing. A defiant set to her mouth. Bathed in the glow of the streetlights, her dark hair glimmering with droplets of evening rain, she’s undeniably beautiful.

But her beauty isn’t that of a princess or a butterfly, delicate and sweet.

It’s that of a samurai sword, all deadly curves and sharp edges.

Sloane. It’s Irish for “raider.”

Should be Irish for “giant pain in the ass.”

From the second she regained consciousness in the back seat of the car, she’s done nothing but mouth off and fight. I’ve met rabid dogs who were more agreeable.

Kieran makes an impatient gesture with his hand in the dangerous beauty’s direction. “Oy. Lass. Get over here and get your arse back in the Escalade before I lose my temper.”

Her smile is grim. “You want me? Come and get me. Fifty bucks says I’ll make you cry even louder than your friend.”

Staggering as he tries to rise from the ground, Sean grunts. “Bitch.”