Read Hit Me (The Bailey Boys #2) for Free Online Page B

the first gentle contact of her tongue, at the way her lips would press against the wet glande and then yield, taking him in.
    She...
    It’s late . Two simple words, waiting for a response.
    “It is,” she said, in reply. Again, two words, loaded with so much more meaning. If his It’s late had been a question, her It is was the emphatic answer.
    They were going to do this. It was undeniable.
    That was when she heard the voices. Raised, not quite shouting, but angry. Coming from the main bar.
    She knew immediately.
    He was here.
    Hristo.
    “You have to go,” she said quickly, briefly placing her hand over his on the table. “He’s here. He’s looking for me.”
    ¡Sé que ella está aqui! I know she’s here.
    Instantly, Lee’s demeanor changed. That alertness again, eyes darting about, assessing risk, assessing possibilities. Imelda pointed at an archway that led to the kitchen. “Through there,” she said. “There is another door that leads to the rear. Go now. Don’t endanger yourself – or me.”
    At that he nodded. He was a man willing to risk himself, but not her.
    The two stood, Imelda made to turn, but–
    A strong hand took hold of her jaw, turned her to face him.
    Those hard lips she had imagined only a short time before pressed against hers and she tasted the whiskey on him and longed for so much more.
    And then the moment had passed, she was stepping back, turning, striding towards the doorway to the main bar.
    Pausing, she sucked in a deep breath, then passed through, trusting that Lee would do nothing stupid, that her appearance in the main bar would buy time for him to slip away.
    And trying not to fear the consequences of Hristo finding her out so late when he’d clearly felt the need to come looking for her.

5
    I couldn’t work out how she did this to me.
    Only two encounters, and yet both had ended with her walking away leaving me standing there with my heart racing, my body bursting with need.
    Nobody had ever taken over my thoughts like this.
    I didn’t understand it.
    But there was one thing I did know: this was not over. It was barely even started.
    When I had passed through the kitchen – to the surprised look of an old man cleaning dishes – and out into the alleyway at the back of the bar, I paused.
    There was no sound of pursuit.
    Was this Hristo really as bad as Imelda made out?
    I thought back to my two encounters with the guy at Hermanos earlier that night. Perhaps he was. There had been something about the man I had taken a dislike to – something that triggered alarm bells, and more than just the fact that he had coke eyes and all the erratic unpredictability that always went with that territory.
    I moved to a window, standing back from the glass so I wouldn’t be visible from within.
    I spotted them immediately, standing at the far end of the bar, close to the street. Two of Hristo’s sidekicks loitered nearby – one of them Georgi, who I’d worked with earlier.
    Imelda looked a different woman when she was with Hristo. She stood differently, held herself more apologetically. A slump of the shoulders, a tilt of the head, a cast of the eyes.
    Gone was the kid who’d grown up on the streets, hustling for a living and never accepting second best.
    Gone was the stylish, sophisticated Latin beauty of my admittedly limited experience.
    Gone was the woman who had taken a strange kind of grip on me.
    I’d spent the past hour gazing into those dark eyes, but now she was doing anything but make eye contact with Markov.
    They were talking animatedly, but I couldn’t make out the words. Or at least he was, as Imelda stood there submissively, looking down at the ground.
    At one point Hristo took a step forward so that his face was right in Imelda’s. The threat was visible, even more than if he’d raised a fist, and it was all I could do to remain where I was, not to storm back in.
    Imelda’s words from only a few minutes ago checked me.
    Go now. Don’t endanger yourself –