Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(43)

Not until I’d pulled her in.

But what else should I have done? Let her get raped, killed, left for the rats and the roaches . . . or worse? Bitter Hill had their hands in human trafficking, too. There was no telling what they would’ve done with her once they were finished.

There hadn’t been any other choice. I’d had to save her.

And now I had to save her from myself, too.

I might not be able to run anymore, but she could. I could give her my one-man escape plan and send her on her way. Kiss my chance at starting a new life good-bye.

Scotty had taken that from me.

But Heidi needed to get the hell outta Boston, and I was going to do everything in my power to make that happen before Scotty launched his attack. I couldn’t let her get caught in the cross fire.

No matter what I decided, what I did, I couldn’t let Scotty hurt Heidi.

I pushed the door open and walked in, forcing a grin to my face as I juggled the door and the bags. “Honey, I’m home.”

“Now who’s being domestic?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, kicking the door shut behind me. “When in Rome . . .”

Laughing, she motioned me into the kitchen. Her resilience constantly amazed me. Minutes ago, she’d been attacked, and now she was singing, dancing, and cooking as if nothing had ever happened. She was so strong and fierce, and she needed to stay that way. If push came to shove, I’d do what I needed to do to keep her safe, whether she was willing or not.

I’d do what needed to be done, like I always did.

And she’d damn well take my escape plan and run.

“Did you get everything?” she asked, pulling the lasagna out and setting it on the waiting potholders she’d put out on the counter. “I know it was quite the extensive list.”

“Yeah. It was practically the whole store,” I said, nudging her with my elbow playfully. I loved how the top of her head came up only to the bottom of my shoulders. “Are we having a party I don’t know about? Or did our fake relationship drive you to drink already?”

Closing the oven with her hip, she took the mitts off and blew her hair out of her face. She wore a black tank top and a pair of yoga pants. She had little to no makeup on, and her blond hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. If I wasn’t mistaken, she didn’t have a bra on underneath her shirt. She looked relaxed and at home. I’d never seen her look more gorgeous.

And I was dying to see if I was right about the no-bra situation.

“Neither option. I want to try to get more women into the bar, so I want to try out a few ‘Girls’ Night Out’ drinks to put on special a few nights a week.” With her forearm, she swept the lingering hair out of her face. “I’m going to make them tonight and see which ones are a hit.”

“So you’ll be shitfaced before nine.” I crossed my arms and gave her a once-over. A steaming mug of tea sat on the counter, half-empty already. I’d gone to three different stores before I found some tea that would fit in my Keurig, since she’d mentioned she liked to drink it when stressed. I’d have to dump it all in the garbage when she left, because I hated the shit. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her wallet off the counter. “How much do I owe you for the booze and the tea?”

“Nothing.”

“Lucas—”

“I said nothing.” I pushed off the counter and took two plates out of the cabinet. “I’ll be drinking tonight, too, so it’s only fair I pay, since you’re making them for us.”

She blinked at me. “You want to drink cocktails? Call me crazy, but they don’t seem like they’re your thing. You’re more of a whiskey guy.”

“Yeah, but you can’t have a successful experiment without test subjects.” I pointed to my chest. “And I am your very willing subject.”

She didn’t talk for a second, just stared at me, all rosy cheeks and blue eyes. I was two seconds from taking it back. It was a stupid idea and an even stupider sentiment.

What the hell had I been think—?

“Thank you,” she said softly. Her sapphire eyes glowed with that certain something that told me she was thinking how nice I was. “I’d appreciate that.”

I frowned. “Stop it. You’re doing it again.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled. She didn’t need to ask what I was yelling at her for anymore. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad. “Want to punch me in the face to remind me how horrible you truly are?”

I cupped her chin, gently guiding her face toward mine. She joked about it, but it wasn’t a joke to me. “I might be an * and a killer and a criminal . . . but I’d never, ever lay a finger on you. Not in a million years.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you really do.” I skimmed my fingers over her soft skin. “I’d die before letting anyone hurt you, whether that person’s myself or someone else.”

She licked her lips, those eyes of hers still glowing that same damn way. But for once, I didn’t care. “Lucas . . .” Hesitantly, she lifted up on tiptoe, rested her hands on my shoulders, and pressed her lips to my cheek. I caught her hips in my hands, holding on to her tightly, but I didn’t pull her closer. Didn’t try to make it into something it wasn’t. As she pulled back, she pressed her palm over my heart and smiled up at me. “You might not be a nice guy, or someone I should like, but tough shit. I do like you. I like you a lot, and nothing you say or do will change that.”