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TABITHA

“ W hat’s your name?” he asks gruffly.

Sitting pressed against the door in the back of his SUV, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible, I swallow hard as I study the man. Six-three, at least, he’s lean and fit. His hair is so blond it’s almost white, and he’s got icy blue eyes that are hard. Cold. A neatly trimmed beard covers a strong jawline, and he’s got high cheekbones. The man dresses well, although he’s wearing black from head to toe, which is a bit monochromatic for my taste.

He’s strikingly handsome; there’s no question about that. But he’s imposing and has a dangerous air about him. I’m terrified of this man. He either beat or killed those men in the alley. But what scares me the most is what he’s planned for me. I don’t get the idea that he’s going to hurt me. He did save me from those two men, after all. But he scares me all the same.

“I asked what your name is,” he repeats.

“Tabby. Tabitha Wallace,” I respond, mostly out of fear of what he’ll do to me if I don’t answer his question.

“I’m Tyson. Tyson Harper.”

I swallow hard. “Listen, I’m grateful you made those men stop harassing me, but I never asked you to hurt them,” I tell him. “I don’t like violence. And I especially don’t like violence carried out in my name.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then why did you do it?”

He turns his icy blue eyes to me, nearly stopping my heart dead in my chest. My stomach is churning, and it seems ludicrous given the situation, but I feel a powerful heat blossom between my thighs. I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a squeak as I inexplicably feel myself getting wet. I lower my gaze, breaking eye contact with him as I try to pull myself together.

The effect this man has on me physically is as profound as it is insane. I don’t understand how a man who terrifies me can get me soaking wet. I mean, yes, he’s gorgeous. He’s got that whole bad boy thing going for him. Unfortunately for me, that’s not a facade he’s putting up because he thinks women like it. He really is a bad man. The two men back in that alley, who might be beaten but might be dead for all I know, can attest to that.

“Why did you do it?” I press, surprised at my own boldness.

“Because they were my employees, and I do not tolerate that kind of bullshit.”

“Are they dead?”

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have. But then he shakes his head and laughs softly as he runs a hand over his face before offering me a smile that looks more like a grimace. “No. They’re not dead. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“I don’t know you. I don’t know what kind of monster you are.”

A small smile splits his full, bow-shaped lips. “I suppose that’s fair. But no, they’re not dead. They’re still very much alive and will hopefully think twice before harassing a woman.”

“You said they were your employees. What kind of business do you run?”

“What I do is my business,” he says, his tone hard.

Tyson’s icy blue eyes bore into mine, making me shift in my seat. I’m so wet it’s uncomfortable. I am so incredibly conflicted. I shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a man like this. I’m under no illusions about who and what he is. He’s a gangster. He’s a drug dealer. And who knows what else he gets up to in the shadows? I should be disgusted and repulsed by this man. But there’s something about him that intrigues me. Compels me. I’m drawn to him in ways I know I shouldn’t be.

“What do you do?” Tyson asks.

I open my mouth, fully intending to tell him what I do is my business, but when the words come out, I’m dismayed to hear something completely different fall out.

“I’m a nursing student,” I tell him. “I go to Southern Coast.”

He nods. “Nursing. That’s a good career. I’m sure you’re going to help a lot of people.”

There’s something in his voice, some strange tone beneath his words I can’t quite interpret. It almost sounds to me like he’s envious. The car stops, and when I look out the window, I’m surprised to find that we’re outside my building. There’s some small part of me that’s surprised he actually took me home. Tyson’s gaze lingers on me, sending a shudder that’s not all that unpleasant through my body.

“You’re home,” he says.

“Right. Well, thanks for the ride,” I say, tearing my eyes from him.

I climb out of his SUV and close the door behind me. Even through the smoked glass windows, I can feel his gaze on me. I shouldn’t want it to be. I should turn, walk into my building, and put him out of my mind forever. But there’s some small piece of me that likes the hunger I’d seen in his eyes. I hate that I do, but … I do.

Shaking my head and trying to slap some sense into myself, I walk into my building.