The kiss was amazingly gentle. Liquid and warm. His tongue slid across my lips and I opened them, giving him access, permission to deepen the kiss. And he did. He tilted his head and dived inside, his mouth scalding against mine. Irony at its finest. This was the first kiss we’d actually shared in the flesh, the real deal.

Without thought, I raised my hands to his chest, solid and blisteringly hot. A steely arm snaked around my neck and pulled me into him. Despite the unhurried tenderness of his actions, his muscles were rigid, poised to strike should the need arise.

I could not mistake this for more than what it was. As heavenly as it felt to be wrapped in the arms of Reyes Farrow, to feel his mouth on mine, the courts had declared him a murderer. More than that, he was desperate. And desperate men did desperate things.

“Guess you two have things under control.”

Startled, I broke the kiss off and glanced over to see an elderly man in a bright yellow slicker chuckling at us.

“Personally, I’d have gone for the backseat, but that’s just me.”

I turned to the face framed within the window opening, and felt the pressure of a blade at my throat, angled so the man couldn’t see it. As I flashed my best smile to the man practically drowning outside my window, I felt another wave of pain wash over Reyes and the knife tip pierced my skin. I flinched when it drew blood. He immediately eased up.

“I’m sorry,” I said to raincoat man, my voice unsteady. “We were just taking advantage of the storm.”

“I understand,” he said with a huge grin. “You might want to pull over a little farther. Never can tell in a storm like this what other drivers’ll do.”

“Thank you. We will.”

He looked at Reyes, studied him a moment, then turned back to me. “But everything’s okay?”

“Oh, sure,” I said as Reyes sank down into the passenger’s seat. He probably realized he was hovering over me like an escaped convict might hover over a hostage. But that could just be me projecting. Lowering the knife to my rib cage, he pressed it into my jacket to let me know it was still there. He was so thoughtful.

“Everything’s fine,” I continued. “Thank you so much for checking. Not many people would brave such a storm.” I glanced up at the rumbling sky.

“Well,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I’m at the store over there. Saw you pull over and thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Not a thing,” I said as if I were not being held against my will by a convicted murderer who also happened to be the son of the most evil being in the universe.

“Glad to hear it. If you need anything, come on in.”

“We will, thank you so much.”

I zipped the window closed as raincoat man trudged back to the convenience store with a wave. I smiled and waved back. What a nice guy.

As soon as he was inside, I turned to Reyes. Aware of his pain now, I could feel it assault him in hot waves, and again I fought the empathy that threatened to overcome my generally annoyed mood. I pointed to the blood. “What happened?”

“You.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised.

Lowering the weapon, he settled farther down into the passenger’s seat. “You fell asleep.”

Oh, damn, I did. “But what does that have to do with—?”

“It seems every time you fall asleep, you draw me to you.”

“So, it’s my fault? I do it?”

He focused pain-filled eyes on me. “I’m bound. I can’t go to you now without you summoning me.”

“But I’m not doing it on purpose.” I was suddenly very embarrassed. “Wait, what does that have to do with your being wounded?”

“When you summon me, it’s like before. I go into a seizurelike state.”

“Oh.”

“A word of advice. Never have a seizure when you’re trying to escape the crushing jaws of a garbage truck.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, my god. I’m so … wait, why am I apologizing? You escaped. From a maximum-security prison. In a garbage truck?”

“I told you. They wouldn’t let me out otherwise.” He laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. The pain coursing through his body was wearing on him. “Let’s get out of here.”

After a long moment, I asked, “Why don’t you just take my Jeep?”

A mischievous smile slid across his face. “I am.”

“Without me in it.”

“So you can run to the clerk? I think not.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Reyes. I promise. Not a soul.”

With a sigh, he opened his eyes to me. He was so beautiful. So vulnerable. “Do you know what I would have done had that man figured out the truth?”

I lowered my head and didn’t answer. Maybe not so vulnerable.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you will if you have to.”

“Exactly.”

I turned the ignition and swerved onto the highway. “Where are we going?”

“Albuquerque.”

That surprised me. Not Mexico? Not Iceland? “What’s in Albuquerque?”

He closed his eyes again. “Salvation.”

8

When everything is coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.

—T-SHIRT

A light drizzle misted the atmosphere, making the headlights of oncoming vehicles blossom into a spectrum of colors like dozens of mini-rainbows. The rain had let up, but the stars were hidden by dense clouds. As we drove, Reyes seemed to be sleeping. Still, I wasn’t about to risk my life by trying an escape, no matter how much I’d always wanted to execute one of those dive rolls out of a speeding vehicle like in the movies. With my luck, I’d just be plowed under by the next car on the interstate. Wait a minute. That gave me an idea: Cookie and I could be stuntwomen.

I practiced a little evasive maneuver, mostly because movie directors loved that stuff, and Reyes jolted in the seat. He grabbed his side with a sharp intake of breath, clearly hurting. And from the amount of blood that had saturated the coveralls, the wound was significant. We healed faster, much faster, than everyone else. Hopefully that would be enough to keep him alive until I could get him help.

I let the air escape from my lungs slowly, wondering how I could be so utterly scared of someone and yet so consumed with his well-being at the same time. Reality took hold again. I had actually been abducted by an escaped convict. On a scale of one to surreal, this one rocketed into the double digits. The optimistic part of me that saw the cup half full was—disturbingly—a little elated. After all, this wasn’t just any escaped convict. This was Reyes Farrow, the man who haunted my dreams with far more sensuality than should’ve been legal to carry in public.