Page 16 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

Dishes shatter, abandoned in the rush. A waiter ducks behind the counter, eyes wide with terror.

My heart thunders through my chest while I glance in Ghost's direction. His icy blue eyes show no emotion—just a cold, deadly focus as he lowers his still-smoking gun. The clinical efficiency of the kill should terrify me.

My attacker tries to run, pushing past a frozen busboy. Ghost's gun barks once more. The bullet catches him in the back of the skull.

His body hits the floor with a dull thud, blood pooling beneath him on the tile. The busboy stumbles backward, knocking over a cart of food, his face ashen with shock.

I'm panting, trying to catch my breath. Ghost stands in the center of the carnage, his gun still smoking. His cold eyes meet mine, and a wave of cold creeps through my body.

His deadly precision both terrifies and fascinates me.

Part of me wants to run, but another part feels strangely safe, protected even, by his lethal skills. As his cold eyes lock with mine, an unexpected heat flushes through my body .

I'm ashamed to admit it, but seeing him take out those men to defend me is oddly... arousing.

Ghost moves towards me and his hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me toward the kitchen's back exit. My heart races as we burst into the alley, the cool night air a shock after the stuffy restaurant, partly from the danger and partly from... whatever just happened in that closet.

"This way," Ghost mutters, tugging me along.

I stumble to keep up with his long strides.

"Nitro, what's our route?" Ghost speaks into his comm, his voice low and tense.

I strain to hear the response, but Ghost's face tells me all I need to know. His jaw clenches, eyes scanning our surroundings with predatory intensity.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we duck into another alley.

"Extraction point," Ghost replies, eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. "Nitro's guiding us to a secure vehicle."

"Great, another mystery location. Any chance you'll actually tell me the plan this time?" The sarcasm slips out despite the danger.

Ghost shoots me a look that would make most people cower. "The plan is keeping you alive, which would be a lot easier if you'd stop questioning every move I make."

His voice drops lower. "Though I'm starting to think you like pushing me just to see what happens when I push back."

Heat crawls up my neck at the implication, but I lift my chin defiantly. "I like knowing what I'm walking into."

"Right now? More trouble if we don't move faster." His hand slides from my wrist to lace his fingers through mine, tugging me forward. The intimate gesture catches me off guard more than if he'd simply grabbed me again.

As if on cue, Ghost's hand moves to his ear. He nods, listening to instructions I can't hear.

"Copy that," he says, then turns to me. "Two more blocks. You good to run?"

I nod, pushing aside my confusion and focusing on the immediate situation. We take off at a brisk jog, weaving through back alleys and side streets. Ghost moves with fluid grace, while I do my best to keep up without tripping over my own feet.

This would be so much easier if I wasn't so distracted by him.

We emerge onto a quieter street. A nondescript van idles at the curb, its engine a low rumble in the night.

Ghost ushers me toward it, his hand again on the small of my back. It should annoy me more than it does, but it's starting to feel comforting.

The van's side door slides open. Two men I don't recognize sit inside, their expressions grim.

"Get in," he orders, practically lifting me into the vehicle.

I scramble onto a seat, Ghost right behind me. The door slams shut, and we're moving before I can even catch my breath.

"Reaper, my bike's in an alley off Grant, near the old herbalist shop." He tells the man with warm brown eyes built like a brick wall.

The other man nods his shaved head. His scarred face looks like it's seen some shit. "Got it. I'll grab the bike after handling clean-up at the dim sum place. "

I glance at the driver's seat and see another guy. This one has messy dark hair, brown eyes and a build like he could bench press a car.

The driver catches my gaze in the rearview mirror and grins. "So you're the journalist who's got Ghost breaking protocol. I'm Chaos, by the way."

He winks at me. "Don't think I've ever seen Ghost get hands-on with an asset before. Usually he's all 'maintain distance' and 'operational security.'"

Ghost's jaw tightens. "Focus on the road, Chaos."

"Just saying," Chaos continues, undeterred. "Three years working together, and I've never seen you personally escort a civilian. Let alone fight off attackers in a restaurant for one."

He glances at me again. "You must have quite the story he wants to hear."

"The story is none of your concern," Ghost cuts in, his tone brooking no argument.

Chaos raises an eyebrow but turns his attention back to driving, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

I look between the strangers, curiosity warring with caution.

My mind races, trying to piece together everything that's happened. The warehouse, the attack, the dim sum palace... it's all a blur of danger and adrenaline.

And through it all, there's Ghost. Infuriating, mysterious, maddeningly attractive Ghost.

I sneak another glance at him. His profile is tense, jaw clenched as he stares out the window. My fingers itch to reach out, to smooth away the lines of worry etched on his face.

Or maybe punch him square in the jaw for always dragging or manhandling me.

The van takes a sharp turn, and I'm thrown against Ghost's solid frame. His arm instinctively wraps around me, steadying me.

For a moment, we're pressed together, my face inches from his. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, filled with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"You alright, little hellcat?" He smirks.

"I'd be better if you'd stop calling me that," I snap, trying to ignore how my body responds to his proximity.

His arm tightens slightly around my shoulders, voice dropping to a murmur only I can hear.

"And I'd be better if you stopped fighting what's happening between us. But then again," his eyes darken as they sweep over my face, "I do enjoy taming spirited things."

My heartbeat quickens and I break eye contact with him, avoiding those eyes that seem to see right through me, unsettled by how my body instantly responds to his words.

I lean back in my seat and stare out the window as the van rockets through now-empty streets.

I've investigated all kinds of terrible things, but tonight I lost an innocence I didn't know I had.