Page 33 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

As the shooting intensified down below, Lyric tried to count the bullet discharges, but why bother?

She didn’t know who was pulling what trigger—and it wasn’t like she knew how many bullets were in a magazine, anyway.

What she was sure of was that beneath her, the pump of Dev’s breath was slow and steady, and the warmth from his body was spreading into her own in spite of the cold—and all her fear.

What if her brother or the other two were killed? Injured seriously? Captured? It would be all her fault. She’d sent her brother and—

“Come on,” Dev said urgently.

Except then her hearing registered a change in the noise chaos. Still distant shouting and all kinds of sirens, but a pause in the shooting.

“Inside,” he ordered as he shuffled them upright. “While we can—”

She raced right back for where they’d been standing. Except just as she got to the ledge, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her around.

“Are you crazy?” He started to carry her off. “That’s a full-blown turf war out there—”

As if to prove his point, there was an abrupt flash of light down below that was so great, it lit up everything behind the building—and then there was a series of loud booms, like someone had upgraded their weapon, big-time.

Wrenching around in his hold, she caught a glimpse of a showdown at the far side of the parking area.

The crashed car. Cops getting closer. A couple of figures, not that she could make them out—

Her view was cut off, and the next thing she knew, she was in a stairway, with Dev closing the door and leaning back against it.

He was breathing hard. So was she.

Outside, the fighting sounds dimmed, and not just because they’d found a little shelter. She could tell the battle was moving away, going to the west, toward the river.

“Fun, fun,” he muttered as he took out a pack of cigarettes.

He shook out one of them, put it in his mouth, and flicked a Bic. Just as he was touching the flame to the tip, he did a double take.

“Sorry.” He frowned. “You mind if I smoke this?”

She had so many bigger problems than that. “No.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, she fumbled for her phone. But like she could ring her brother? Like he could answer?

“The cops are already here,” he said on the exhale. “Who are you calling?”

She looked down at the cell. “I… don’t know.”

And if she reached out to the Brotherhood? How was she going to explain how she knew what was happening? Besides, it was protocol, asking for backup—she’d overheard her brother talking about it loads of times. One of them, down there, for sure already had.

“I have to go,” she blurted.

This was a total fucking mess.

“What about your scarf?”

“Huh?” She glanced up at him blankly. “Oh, yes. Right—”

Her phone went off and she ripped it up to her ear. “Oh, thank God, Rhamp—where are you? Are you okay?”

There was a loud rushing noise coming over the connection, like the wind was swirling around him, but her brother’s voice came through loud and clear: “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m—” She glanced at Dev. He was taking a draw on the cigarette and regarding her with a remote look. “Are you okay?”

“Where the fuck—”

“You’re okay, though?”

“I’m on the roof of a fucking apartment building, the one that I’m pretty fucking sure you whistled down from.”

She looked to the door, focusing on it over Dev’s shoulder. “What about the others?” she said tightly.

“Where are you.”

Dev’s eyes met her own, and he continued to be totally calm. To the point where she wondered what kind of life he led. It didn’t take a genius to catch the drift of the one side of the conversation he was hearing, and yet there was no shock on his face.

“I’m safe,” she said quietly. “I’ll be home soon.”

“You were supposed to be home now —”

She hung up the phone. Put it back in her pocket. “Let’s go get my scarf.”

Taking his hand, Lyric made quick work of the descent, and dragged him behind herself.

At the bottom of the shallow steps, she pushed through a door, and then continued piloting them down the open stairwell.

When she got to the landing with the little “4th Floor” sign next to it, she hit the hallway and beelined for Dev’s apartment.

Even though she had no right, she let herself in—and didn’t need to mentally spring the lock because of course he hadn’t thrown the bolt. After she closed them in together, a quick glance confirmed the blackout drapes were still closed, and—

Her eyes shot to his messy bed. Then she breathed in deeply through her nose. The scent in the studio was intoxicating, the tips of her fangs tingling in response.

So he’d… taken care of himself after she’d left.

With a curse, she rubbed her eyes, then put her palms to her windblown cheeks. Now was not the time to be thinking about that stuff.

“Good thing I don’t care about breaking rules.”

Lyric jumped, and turned to him. He was leaning back against the door, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“I’m sorry?” she mumbled.

“No smoking in the building.” He exhaled a steady stream. “But I don’t think anybody’s going to be worried about a little nicotine cloud smoke in the air tonight. Do you?”

“No,” she replied grimly. “I don’t.”

Unable to stay still, she paced around, going from the refrigerator to the bed and back. When she started to feel too hot, she undid her parka.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t need to know what you’re involved in.”

Stopping, she glanced over. He had the pack of Camels in his palm along with the lighter, like he was thinking about going for a second the moment he finished what he was currently smoking. Not because he was stressed, though. He was still cucumber calm over there.

“In fact,” he continued, “I’m a firm believer in not sticking my nose into other people’s business. And if it makes you feel better to play pretense with that scarf or my jacket or my phone or whatever, that’s fine with me, too. You don’t owe me anything, and that includes your truth.”

She searched his face. There was no reserve, no artifice in his strong features, and his eyes were not avoiding hers—and that was when she discovered that she couldn’t do what was expected of her in this situation.

She couldn’t wipe his short-term memories, which was absolutely the thing to do when a human knew too much or got too close.

But getting into his mind and stealing his thoughts? Well, that was robbery.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated hoarsely. “God, I keep saying that, don’t I.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He shrugged. “Hell, less than twenty-four hours ago, we didn’t even know each other existed. Why would you feel guilty about anything when it comes to me?”

Lyric felt herself go totally still. And even though there was a warning voice ricocheting through her head like a stray bullet, she heard herself say:

“You’re the first male I’ve noticed in a very, very long time.”

Okay, that was a half-truth. He was the first male she’d ever really noticed. For all the attractive fighters she was around on a regular basis, and all the aristocrats who hung out with Shuli, and even the two she’d dated for a while, there had never been much resonance to any of them.

“I don’t know why you’re different,” she said in a low voice. “And I don’t even care.”

Dev glanced down at the cigarettes in his hand.

Then he put them in his pocket and walked over to his bed.

At the little table that held his lamp and charging station, he pulled out the drawer and riffled around.

Straightening, he didn’t close things up, but went into his bathroom.

There were other sounds of him moving things around.

When he came back out, he had a pen in his hand, and he walked straight by her. Unspooling a paper towel from its roll, he bent over the counter where the serving dishes of their meal were still sitting out.

After he finished writing something, he put the pen down and approached her. “This doesn’t have to be a one-night-stand thing. If you don’t want it to be.”

When she opened her mouth, he shook his head sharply. “Nope. Don’t answer now. Go home and think about it. And if you decide you want more than tonight…”

He took her hand and pressed a folded-up square into it. “Here’s my number. You call me and we’ll have dinner tomorrow evening. Like a proper date, without all kinds of naked happening and no gunfire in the background.”

She looked down at the wedge of paper towel. “How are you like this.”

“Like what?”

“After everything tonight…” Her eyes lifted to his. “Most guys would have run in the opposite direction when I stopped the sex. And they never would have gotten to the…”

“The shooting part?”

“Yeah. How are you not asking questions.”

His eyes grew remote. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes,” she said urgently. “I do.”

It was a while before he answered, and when he did, his voice was so deep, it was nearly inaudible.

“No, you don’t.” He went over to his dresser. “And don’t forget your scarf.”