Free Inside Out by Rowyn Ashby Page A

in front of her face—well, on her butt, actually—the whole time.
    Her “Caspian magic” tattoo—the only explanation. The only thing they had in common. Certainly not a scientific explanation, but Olivia doubted there could ever be a logical reason for this happening to her.
    It was supposed to have given her prowess. Well, it hadn’t. Not until this moment anyway. In ten years of marriage, she hadn’t let Shane anywhere near the levels they’d reached together last night, despite the fact that she had wanted him so much. She still did. She loved Shane. No matter who he thought she was. She needed him. She needed to feel him on her, in her, all over her. The familiar scent of his skin, the warmth of his cocky chuckle. His deep voice, so low it made her stomach vibrate and her skin tingle. She wanted to give him what she had never given him before. And what he so obviously needed.
    There was no bringing the past back, but she wanted Shane in her future. She wanted her time with him back, and with accrued interest. She wanted to do with him all the yummy things they’d never done before. Again and again. What a fool she was, not understanding Shane’s hunger. He was in a league of his own. In every way. From now on she would try to get back her life and not waste another second of it.
    But now Olivia sank back against the wall, lost, although a part of her mind already formulated a plan. With a trembling hand, she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. Then surprising even herself, she bound to her feet. Caspian magic tattoo or not, she had to find a way back into her own life. Back to Shane.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
    Shane’s heart beat a slow, steady rhythm within his chest in the time it took him to assess the young punk aiming at his temple. His army training was part of him and had forged his very being, sharpened his senses, minimized his reaction times.
    His gaze slid sideways to the weapon. A monkey gun. And a panting, sweating, little shit with too much adrenaline pumping through his veins. No biggie. Shane ate little boys like this for breakfast.
    With one quick kick, he threw the rookie off balance and jumped him, squeezing the bloke’s wrist until he howled and let go of the gun. Ridiculously easy. Whoever had recruited the lad, hadn’t bothered to train him. Not even the bloody basics.
    “Where’s the girl?” Shane demanded, though he suspected this kid had simply been sent in for the kill and knew nothing about Hunter. Shane had eliminated many men in Afghanistan and Iraq among other missions. But never had he even come close to touching a single hair on a woman, and the thought that this little shit wanted to hurt Hunter made his blood boil.
    Shane dragged him to the table and tied him up real good, then called Alfie.
    “Send someone to Southend-on-Sea. I’m on the Olivia with a kid who tried to kill me.”
    “Fuck, I knew this was going to happen. You okay, mate?” Alfie’s metallic voice garbled over the shit connection. “Where’s the girl?”
    Of course. The victim interested him more than the aggressor and Shane still wondered why. “She’s done a runner.”
    “Shit! Shane—you be careful, mate. You don’t know who you’re dealing with here. We’ll be there ASAP.”
    Shane signed off and studied the kid. “Who hired you, boy?”
    The youth eyed him and scoffed. Shane kicked his shin.
    “Ow, you bloody tosser!”
    Shane called upon all his strength to not strangle him there and then. “Listen to me. I’ve got the MIT on your arse, so there’s no question you’re going in. If you give me some answers, I’ll make sure you don’t rot in prison for too long.”
    The kid shrugged. “I dunno. Bloke paid me to kill her.”
    “What bloke? Where did you meet him?”
    “Came up to me in The Hanged Highwayman. I was drinkin’ on me own, yeah? And he just comes up to me and says, ‘You wanna make a few quid?’ So I says, ‘Yeah,’ right? And he gives me five