Free Crazy Kisses by Tara Janzen Page B

he’d been living in a world light-years away from Nikki’s. It was stark and dangerous and had no room for errors.
    Tonight, for whatever reason, she’d stepped into his world, but that didn’t change the one rule. It was still win or die.
    He checked the street again, then pulled her back onto the sidewalk, into the crowds. They were only a couple of blocks from their destination, a place called the Parrot Bar. The owner of the Parrot had been a friend to J.T. long before he’d been a friend to Kid. A few phone calls, starting with C. Smith in Bogotá and the DEA Panama Country Office right here in the city, should get him what he needed: transportation out of Panama and a plane ride back to the States.
    She stumbled, and he caught her more closely to his side.
    “I’ve got you. Don’t worry,” he said. The DEA had gotten him into this, and the DEA could damn well get him and Nikki out. “I’m taking you someplace safe. Everything is okay.”
             
    NO , it wasn’t, Nikki thought, half running to keep up with him.
    Everything was insane.
    Her sandal caught on the uneven sidewalk again, and Kid pulled her tighter, closer.
    My god.
    My holy, freaking god.
    She still couldn’t believe what she’d seen, what he’d done. Her heart had stopped when he’d pulled his gun and pointed it straight at her, right after her heart had damn near jumped out of her chest when he’d . . .
    Kid, with his knee in the man’s back, with the man’s head in his hands, the fierce, violent twist that had broken the man’s neck. Kid drawing his gun. The deafening double explosion. Kid wiping the bloody knife off on the man’s shirt, folding it back on itself and sliding it into his pocket even as he rose to his feet, his other hand still holding the gun steady and aimed.
    The utter and absolute focus of Kid’s gaze, every move choreographed, everything smooth.
    “What did those men want? Wh-what were they doing in your house?” They’d come out of nowhere. One second, she’d been drinking her tea, and the next second, Kid had been in the bathroom hall, slamming a stranger up against the wall and . . .
    Kid, striking hard and fast, brutally hard, burying his knife in the man’s stomach, jerking the blade upward.
    Blood.
    Everywhere.
    “It was a break-in,” he said. “I don’t know what they were after, but that kind of stuff happens all—”
    “Don’t.”
She jerked free of him, stopping cold. Fury, hot and out of control, flashed through her like wildfire. “Don’t you
dare
goddamn lie to me, Kid. You just ki—”
    He grabbed her back into his arms so fast, she didn’t see it coming. Pulling her against him, he cradled her head close to his chest and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We’re not doing this here, Nikki.” It was an order, fiercely given, not a request.
    “That was
no
burglary.” And she wasn’t a fool.
    “No, it wasn’t.” The admission was harsh. “But we have to keep moving. Do you understand?”
    At her nod, he started back down the street.
    Yes, she understood. She understood he hadn’t been nearly as surprised by what had happened as she had been. She understood there were more men behind them, somewhere, looking for them.
    The thought was terrifying.
    “If you want to talk about something else, that’s fine,” he said, lightening his hold on her a fraction of a degree, but only the barest fraction. He was holding on to her like her life depended on it—and without a doubt, after what she’d seen, it did. “I know you like to talk when you’re upset.”
    Upset?
Sweet Jesus. Her stomach was in a knot so tight she was about ready to throw up, and her nerves were shredded right down to the wires. But sure, she could talk about something else. She needed to talk about something else, anything else—and he knew it.
Damn him.
He wouldn’t have forgotten any of her stupid weaknesses, especially the extra-stupid talk-or-meltdown response that seemed to kick in