Aequitas, Hope Anika [android pdf ebook reader .TXT] 📗

“No,” she said.

Nothing more, staring down at him, her cheeks so hot, she was dizzy.

“Why not?” Cian asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Honor could only shake her head, hyper-aware of the warm, rough skin of his strong hand wrapped around her arm, the rasp of his callused thumb across her wrist. Her heart beat heavily, and her skin prickled, and if her head was screaming no, the rest of her was ready, willing and able.

“Talk to me,” he said, his hold unwavering, that strange, beautiful hazel gaze steady on hers.

She opened her mouth, closed it. What was there to say?

You’re too much. Too tempting, too dangerous.

I’m afraid.

No.

“Honor,” he murmured, the lilt in his voice turning it into a melody.

“No,” she said again. But even as she shook her head, a tremor moved through her; she was painfully aware of his heat and his scent and his strength. Of how easy it would be, to want him back.

To surrender.

“I came for Hannah,” she said, hating the desperation she could hear. “She’s the only reason I’m here.”

“I ken that, lass,” he replied and stroked her again. She felt it low in her belly, and something there tightened in response. Tension filled her, and she stilled, hating and savoring the sensation. “But she’s not the one waiting for you.”

Honor blinked, and something huge and painful swelled in her chest. Waiting. Damn him. Double damn him.

“What do you want from me?” she snarled.

“Everything,” he said, his eyes boring into her.

She shook her head again, but when she went to step away, his hold tightened, and she halted. “I don’t know what that means.”

His gaze glinted. “You do.”

Her belly fluttered, as if a thousand wings had taken flight. “Why? Why me? I’m not…special.”

He frowned and began to draw her closer. “What makes you believe such nonsense?”

She pulled back, suddenly afraid, terrified he would touch her, and every crazy impulse she felt would take hold and she would act.

“Easy, a rứnsearc,” he murmured. “There’s no rush. I’ve all the time in the world.”

That’s what she was afraid of, because for her, the clock was ticking.

“Let go,” she told him, her voice low, followed by another useless tug on the arm he held.

“Nay, we’re going to speak of this.” His hold tightened. “You canna think—”

“Cian.”

Akachi’s voice broke between them, and Honor started. She looked up to see the large Sudanese standing only a handful of feet away, a stark shadow outlined by the shimmering, golden kiss of sunset.

“Aye,” Cian said, his voice grim, his gaze locked on Honor.

“You have a call. It is important.”

For a long moment, he only stared at her, and Honor tugged again at her arm.

“Aye,” he said finally.

Akachi turned and disappeared.

“Let go,” she said again.

“We’re not finished,” he warned softly. He slid his grip down her arm, captured her hand and pressed an unexpected kiss into her palm. Heat speared from his lips straight to that place between her thighs. Something hungry and restless stirred in response; a drumbeat that echoed through her in demand.

“We never began,” she told him.

His gaze flickered, a dangerous glint that made her breath tighten. The man he was—he truly was—peeking out at her from behind that façade of gentle, teasing warmth. The blade he kept so carefully sheathed.

Remember, she told herself, but it did little good, when the blade held as much appeal as the warmth.

More.

He stood, her hand trapped in his, casting her in his huge shadow. His heat licked at her, and his scent flooded her nostrils until she felt almost drunk on him. He was too close, invading her personal space as if he had every right. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” she muttered, her cheeks hot.

He only smiled, a crooked, beautiful grin that made her heart again skip that painful beat. “Eat. I won’t be long.”

And then he was gone, leaving her staring after him, her palm tingling, a throb of hunger heavy in her blood. Disappointed and relieved and tense with anticipation.

It was, she acknowledged the next morning, a good thing Cian had never returned.

When Akachi had appeared with an apology and said Cian would be tied up until late into the night, she’d been dumb enough to be upset.

So fucking fucked.

And because of that, part of her was ready to run.

What the hell was her problem? The man was not her date. Not her suitor. Not even her friend. He was…the means to an end.

Nothing more.

And regardless of what he’d said—everything!—when he’d drawn the connection between them in the form of Vladimir Dragunov, Honor had finally understood. Cian’s abrupt appearance, his damnable tenacity.

Why he’d chosen her to hunt.

And, damn it, she couldn’t blame him. If Cian had managed to get to Dragunov before her, she would have been furious, too. She would have set her sights on the man who’d purloined her vengeance, but unlike Cian, she wasn’t certain she would have forgiven him—no matter his motivation.

Because you deserved revenge, too. I could hardly hold it against you.

She would have.

Destroying Dragunov had taken years. Months spent tracking the men who’d slaughtered her family and stolen Hannah; a year to discover and draw the shocking and infuriating connection between the Russian mobster Vladimir Dragunov—who owned those men—and her own father, the stupid, foolish man who hadn’t understood the danger he courted with his residence in the land of money laundering. And then, once she’d known who Dragunov was, another year spent trying to figure out how to get to him.

Because bullets were too easy. Honor had wanted him…undone. Exposed, vulnerable. She’d wanted him to know it was over, that men he’d called friends were coming for him.

That nothing he could do would save him.

In the end, it’d been appallingly easy. Just a matter of taking aim and firing. Strangled by his own man, in his own home.

Too bad it hadn’t made her feel any better. Her father and her brother were still dead; Hannah was still missing. Uncovering Dragunov hadn’t led her to the end of that labyrinth. No, it had only left her with an entire host of wrong turns and dead