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I barely remember even making the decision to kick in the bathroom door to get to her, much less when I pulled the gun out of the back of my waistband.

  That reminds me of one more thing to add to my to do list tonight—repair the damn bathroom door after I get rid of the body.

  Good thing I always carry my gun, using my suit to conceal it, never knowing when my bank robbing past could catch up with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to escape, even kill someone if I have to. Before tonight, I wasn’t even sure if I could really pull the trigger. Now I know I can without a second thought. And I’m certain I could do it again if it ever comes to that.

  “Give me your keys to the bar, put on the coat, and go on inside,” I tell Libby, trying to snap her out of her shock to get her moving. I’m reaching over to drape my coat around her shoulders when Libby suddenly reaches up and grabs both sides of my face. Then her lips are pressed firmly against mine. It’s the last thing I expected in this moment, so it takes me a second to even move my lips to kiss her back.

  I refuse to dwell on the fact that I blew a man’s head off faster than I could wrap my head around Libby kissing me for the very first time.

  Even though I know whatever is going on with her is all because of the hell of what she just went through, I don’t pull away like I did in the bathroom when her lips brushed my neck. If she wants to kiss me then by god, she’s going to get my full participation this time. I force my tongue past her lips to stroke over hers, making her moan so deeply there’s no doubt in my mind her panties are getting wet.

  For weeks, I’ve been trying to convince her to let me kiss her. If I had known the way to finally break her was to kill a man, I would’ve done it sooner.

  Kidding.

  Maybe.

  “Take me home with you tonight,” she whispers against my lips, making me reel back and straighten over to my side of the truck. She wants me? Now, of all times?

  No. Fuck, no.

  I refuse to take her to bed tonight only to have her regretting it tomorrow. There’s enough she’ll have to deal with on her conscious as it is.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, and I’ve got my hands full tonight, remember?” I respond, gruffer than I intended because of the lust caught in my throat.

  “I can come with you…” she offers as she pulls out her keys from her purse.

  “No.” I snatch the keychain out of her grip.

  “Why not?”

  “Libby, get the hell out of my truck,” I order her. “I’ve waited weeks to be with you and the first time isn’t going to be because of some fucked-up idea you have about owing me…”

  “That’s not what this is,” she replies, but I don’t buy it.

  “Goodnight, Libby,” I tell her firmly, leaving no room for argument because if she asks again, I’ll probably give in.

  Her final scoff before she shoves her arms in my coat and climbs out of my truck tells me that while I know I’m doing the right thing at this moment, I’m probably going to regret rejecting her tomorrow.

  Chapter 9

  Libby

  After I zip up Hendrix’s coat to conceal as much of my clothes as possible, I turn the apartment doorknob in a daze, glad it’s unlocked since Hendrix has all my keys.

  Kissing him was even better than I imagined. It was like he poured his entire soul into it and I’m pretty sure his hot, persistent tongue stole a piece of my own…

  Oh my god. After everything that happened tonight, I’m focused on a kiss, not the dead man…

  “You’re home late,” Carter says from his usual spot on the sofa, as I walk through the door. He looks over at me briefly, then does a double take before I can turn to start down the hall. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I tell him over my shoulder as I walk away. “Same old. Had a few late customers, thanks to the rain.”

  “Libby, wait,” Carter calls out when I’m halfway to my bathroom.

  I hear his footsteps as he comes up behind me. “Turn around.”

  Dammit. I haven’t had a chance to look at my clothes closely, but I think the majority is covered by the coat, so I turn around, figuring it would be more unusual if I refused.

  “What’s up?” I ask, plastering a smile on my face when I turn toward him.

  “Did something happen?” he asks, his brows drawn inward as he looks me over with concern. “Is that Blake’s coat?”

  This is it, my chance to own up to exactly what occurred tonight, that a creepy bastard would’ve killed me if Hendrix hadn’t killed him first.

  But while I’m angry at Hendrix for shooting me down, I think of how much he risked to save me without even a second thought. How, right now, he’s back at the restaurant, cleaning up a mess that could land him in prison because of me.

  “It’s pouring rain…” I start to say when Carter reaches up and brushes his thumb over my cheek.

  Oh shit. Did Hendrix miss a spot?

  “Messy night, by the looks of it,” Carter says with a grin. “You had some ketchup on your face. Don’t worry, I got it,” he adds before wiping his thumb on the pants leg of his thankfully dark jeans.

  “T-Thanks,” I tell him, swallowing down my rising nausea because I know it’s definitely not ketchup. “See you in the morning. Goodnight.”

  “Night, Libby,” he replies before I finally spin around and escape to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I brace my back and head against it while my heart rate returns to a normal level.

  What was I thinking, not calling the police or telling Carter the truth about Lester? And what the hell was I doing when I kissed Hendrix and then asked him to take me home? Carter would’ve sent out a search party for me if I didn’t come back tonight and then everything would be ruined.

  I have got to get my head straight or the last month will be nothing but a waste.

  Chapter 10

  Libby

  Hendrix thankfully left the keys to the bar hanging on the handlebar of my my bike, but I haven’t actually seen him since the night he killed Lester. But I have seen a few sheriff deputies today. In fact, two of them are sitting at a table eating breakfast right this second.

  Apparently, from what I’ve heard when eavesdropping on them when I pass their table, Lester’s wife has had them looking for him after he didn’t come home Wednesday night.

  I’m not sure if I should feel sorry for the woman who willingly married that disgusting pervert or hate her for insisting to the police that he walked to the bar that night and hasn’t heard from him since.

  “Stop asking me about that old fool,” Jodie huffs indignantly at the deputies with one hand on her hip and a coffee pot in the other. “I wasn’t even working Wednesday night, Libby was. If you want to know when he left, ask her.”

  Three sets of eyes turn in my direction where I’m pretending to wipe down a table.

  “Did you need something?” I ask innocently when I hurry over to them as if I didn’t hear the conversation.

  “They want to know when Lester left here on Wednesday,” Jodie explains before she scurries away.

  “Lester?” I ask as I glance at each of the men in uniform. Of all days, I’m glad they’re here on the one when I picked out my tight red retro dress to wear because it takes a good minute of them staring at my elevated cleavage before I get a response. Maybe they’ll be so distracted by my girls trying to escape that they won’t notice my nervousness.

  “Oh, ah, Lester Wilkes,” one of them, the younger guy, replies. “He’s a regular that comes in a few times a week. White male in his sixties, medium build with brown hair. He also has, ah, thick, bushy eyebrows.”

  “Lester, right,” I say, as if I just remembered who he is, then scrunch up my forehead, like I’m thinking it over. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in the last few days.”

  “His wife says he’s been missing since Wednesday night, never came home,” the older deputy informs me, finally lifting his gaze from my chest to my face.

  “Well, that�
�s not good,” I reply.

  “She said he left on foot, headed here that night.”

  “Oh no. If it was late, the roads are awfully dark. I hope no one hit him,” I say with mock concern. “Have you checked the roads?”

  “We’ve been over them three times,” the younger deputy says. “No sign of him.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” I tell them. “I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if I see him.”

  “We would really appreciate that, Miss…” the older one says, giving me a once-over from head to toe and making me silently curse because he’s asking my name. Shit. Does that mean it’s going in a report? Let’s hope they don’t run my record and blow my cover.

  “It’s Libby. Libby Price.”

  “Thank you, Miss Price,” he responds with a smile and a nod that I take as a dismissal.

  While I wish I could run out the back door to get some fresh air and try to calm down, I know that doing so would only look suspicious. So, I keep myself busy, making sure no one needs refills, and counting the minutes until six when Hendrix will hopefully show up tonight.

  Hendrix

  Seeing the relief in Libby’s beautiful green eyes when they cut over to see me walking through the bar’s door should make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Instead, it worries me. She’s been waiting for me and if her wider than usual eyes weren’t a giveaway, her shaking hand as she takes an order would be.

  I casually slide into my usual booth, trying to act like everything is normal even though I know it’s not.

  Things have changed between us.

  Libby and I are now connected, the story of our lives intertwined, thanks to one disgusting dead man. And while I hate what happened to her, and still worry about whether or not I can trust her, I do like feeling closer to her.

  “Hey,” Libby says breathlessly when she appears by my table. Tonight, she’s wearing a snug, bright red dress that makes her look like Pin-Up Barbie with her breasts heaving against the snug top, nearly spilling over.

  “Hey,” I reply, lifting my gaze back to her worried eyes and trying not to plot the murders of all the men who’ve got to see her looking so fucking gorgeous today while I wasn’t here.

  “Haven’t seen you in a few days,” she remarks.

  “Did you miss me?” I ask.

  Her red painted lips part in surprise at the question before she gives me a nod. “Yes.”

  “Good,” I reply with a smile.

  “Are you going to stick around until closing tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  More than any other night, I need to hang around and make sure no men try to touch what’s mine underneath her sexy little dress. I may not have ever seen every inch of her body or touched her in all the right places to make her squirm yet, but it’s still mine, dammit. I pity any idiot stupid enough to try and lay a hand on her tonight or any other night.

  And I’m not planning on up and leaving her behind in a few weeks either. The last two days and nights I spent getting rid of the body of the man I killed for her gave me time to think about the future—one I want with Libby, which is impossible unless she agrees to come with us after our last heist.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re sticking around because we need to talk,” Libby says.

  “Can’t wait,” I say seriously, even though I’m dreading hearing what she’s going to say. It may be a good time to bring up my proposition to her, though.

  Will I be able to convince her to leave everything behind for me?

  Once we leave, there’s no turning back. She won’t be able to call home to check on her family here or visit them. We’ll have to disappear with new identities in order to stay hidden. Is that too much to ask of a woman who won’t even sleep with me? Probably, but I have to ask her anyway.

  The hands of the clock seem to freeze for the next few hours as I sit and watch Libby flutter around like a nervous red butterfly, taking orders as people come and go until finally, the last table gets up and leaves for the night.

  Before I can get up from my seat, the lights in the back turn off.

  “I’ll come in early tomorrow and get caught up,” Libby says when she comes out with her purse on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  It must be serious if she’s too anxious to wait and talk to me in half an hour.

  I don’t say anything until the two of us are closed in the cab of my truck. But I don’t crank the engine or pull away since I need to see her face for this conversation, not try to listen and drive at the same time.

  “What’s going on?” I ask her.

  “Some sheriff deputies came in this morning asking about Lester.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Libby scoffs before she lets out a non-humorous burst of laughter. “No, it’s not okay!”

  “The guy went missing,” I tell her. “Of course the cops are going to have to go around and ask questions. What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “I pretended like I didn’t know who they were talking about at first, then when they gave me his description, I said I haven’t seen him in the bar for a few days. They told me his wife said he never came home on Wednesday night, and that he walked to the bar.”

  “That’s it?” I ask her.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You did good,” I tell her, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. In fact, this is actually great. Maybe the worry about that asshole’s death and her connection to it will be helpful in convincing Libby to leave the country to go with me to a place where there’s no extradition, to put it all behind us.

  “They asked me my name,” she says on a broken sigh.

  “It doesn’t sound like we have anything to worry about. Hopefully they’ll assume he ran off with a woman or got run over, and let it go.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully,” Libby agrees.

  I rub my thumb over her knuckles to try and soothe her. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in it and then you can call me instead of freaking out for hours if something else comes up.”

  “Okay, good,” she replies, flashing me a small smile.

  “Is that it, then? Anything else you want to talk about?” I ask.

  “What? No,” she answers, too fast, before her head turns away from me.

  Removing my hand from hers, I lean over and brush her hair off of her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “You’re not gonna say that kissing me the other night was a mistake, that you weren’t thinking clearly, and that I shouldn’t get the wrong idea?”

  A shiver takes over her body before she answers. “No.”

  “No?” I repeat, since that answer didn’t sound honest. My lips are still close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

  “I-I don’t know,” she says, truthfully this time.

  “I need you to figure it out.” If she can’t even tell me that she wants to be with me, then I can’t possibly ask her to leave her life behind for me. “And I don’t know how long I can keep waiting for you, Libby. Time is running out…”

  “What does that mean?” she asks, turning her face to mine and making it all too easy for me to brush my lips over hers just once before I wait for her to come to me. She does too, kissing me back three times before she says, “Why…why is time running out? Is that an ultimatum? You’re tired of waiting for me to put out, so you’re moving on if I don’t?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” I cup her face in my hands. “I would wait an eternity for you to ask me to take you to bed again,” I admit. “But I’m leaving soon—”

  “Leaving?” she asks and would’ve pulled away if I didn’t have her face in my grip.

  Shit. Do I even bother telling her? I’m probably only setting myself up for more rejection, but I can’t hold back any longer.

  “Yeah, I’m leaving soon, but I want you to come with me,” I say, pressing my lips along her jawline and climbing up.

  “Where? H-how…for how long?” she asks between gasps while I keep kissing her
neck.

  “I can’t tell you where, but we wouldn’t be coming back,” I explain. “You wouldn’t have to worry about those deputies asking any more questions.”

  “You’re leaving? For good? What…what about your business? You’re just going to up and leave it?”

  God, I hope the panic in her voice means there’s a chance she doesn’t want to walk away from this, from the possibility of us having a future together. I don’t know why I feel so certain of her, but from the moment I saw her, I knew she was different, that she was worth changing my plans for. The universe keeps pulling me to her for a reason.

  “Come with me, Libby.”

  “I-I don’t know, Hendrix,” she says.

  “Let me try to convince you,” I say before I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap without warning. Her fingers spear through my hair and her mouth finds mine, then it’s off to the races with the deepest, hottest kiss of my life. Our tongues stroke and tease each other in the perfect imitation of how I’m dying to be inside of her.

  “Hendrix,” Libby whispers when her body lowers. With her dress riding up almost to her hips, there’s nothing but her panties left to rub against the bulge in my jeans.

  “I want you so bad it’s killing me,” I tell her when I nip at her bottom lip and give it a tug. It feels amazing having her kiss me like she wants me, not because she’s scared or thinks she owes me. “But tonight, sweetheart, I think you’re the one in need of a little stress relief.”

  While we kiss feverishly again, I start sliding both of my hands up her skirt to grab her incredible ass that I’ve been dreaming of touching.

  “Hendrix, wait,” Libby says against my lips, reaching down to grab both of my hands to stop them from moving any further.

  “Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

  Squeezing her ass, I lift my hips and then grind her pussy down on my cock even harder. I can tell by her low moan that she’s hitting that magical spot at the front of her panties, at just the right angle.