Page 55 of Damon

“I doubt the boss will see it that way.”

Earlier this afternoon, Morgan and I had entered the park close to Damon’s house to run our familiar circuit around the edge. Each week we’ve been adding a lap to our run as my fitness increases. I find it hard to talk while exercising, but Morgan never stops. In the few weeks I’ve known him, I’ve learned all about his life history, hometown, previous romantic encounters, and the married man he’s in love with. I told him it’s a bad idea, but seemingly the sex is too fucking good to give up, and his fuck buddy refuses to leave his wife.

At the rear of the park there’s a long, winding stretch of path through a wooded area. In these summer afternoons, it’s always a welcome break from the beating sunshine. The park had been quiet midweek, but as we made our way through the trees, three men walked toward us from the opposite direction. As I passed, the tallest man grabbed me around my waist and slammed a hand across my mouth. When Morgan spun around to help, the other two men knocked him to the ground and laid into him, all fists and knees. Once my security was gagged and his wrists bound, they dragged him off into the wooded area and all returned to me.

“Good afternoon, Kathryn,” the oldest man said. He was smaller than the other two, with shrewd eyes and a sly smile. “Mr. Moreno has requested your presence in his home. He’s keen to have a conversation with you. Now, my colleague is going to remove his hand from your mouth. Don’t scream; if you do, your friend lying over there won’t see sunset.” He pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket—the metal glinted in the sparse sunlight—then slid it back into its hiding place. “Can I trust you?” I nodded, and the goon released me.

“My name is Emma,” I snarled.

“Emma, Kathryn. I don’t care. I’m only here to deliver my client the package. Now, come with us.” I followed him out of the park toward a quiet street at the back. The man who held me previously walked behind me while the third man held my elbow. “Relax, Emma,” the man in charge said. “Nothing bad is going to happen…yet.”

We arrived at a small white car; it sat inconspicuously in the street as if it were a family vehicle waiting to collect its cargo. The tall man opened the rear door as the older one got into the driver’s seat. “Fuck,” I said, then started to stamp my foot on the ground. “Leg cramp, urgh, it’s the worst.” I looked up at the bastard beside me holding the door. “Jeez, this is because you lot interrupted my run.”

“Get in the car,” a gruff voice said from behind me. I assumed it was Bonehead Number Three.

“Give me a minute, will you? Let me sort my sock normally; that can relieve the pain. Have you never had fucking pins and needles? It’s the devil.” Both men sighed as I lowered myself to the ground and started rummaging around in my sock for the concealed pepper spray I carried.

“What’s taking so long?” the driver shouted.

“Nothing,” I said as I stood and blasted both the idiots in the eyes with the spray, spinning frantically to ensure I didn’t miss. Their hands shot to their faces, and I took my chance to run back into the park. When I glanced back over my shoulder, the older man had climbed out of the car and was throwing the other two into the back seat. Once I was comfortable there was enough distance between him and me, I stopped, turned around, and saluted. He drew his finger across his throat, and I responded by flipping him the bird. Asshole.

***

After I had rescued Morgan from his predicament in the woods, we headed to a public area to call Harrison. He insisted he was taking me to the hospital, not that it was required. Obviously, Harrison had called ahead because on our arrival we had been whisked away to this room and checked over.

As I launch into another monologue about how Morgan shouldn’t blame himself for what happened—that we were outnumbered, that the danger is out there every day, but I am not willing to hide away forever—the door flies open and Damon storms in. Within moments, he’s crossed the space between us, lifted Morgan by his t-shirt, and slammed him against the wall so hard it seems to vibrate with the impact.

“You’re fired,” he growls, leaning into the other man so they are nose to nose. Morgan tries to pull backward away from him, but the hard surface behind doesn’t allow for it. Damon draws a fist back and slams it hard into Morgan’s stomach; he gasps as the air leaves his body.

“Damon,” I shriek. “Let him go, this is not his fault.”

“Yes, it fucking is.” He glares at the man he has pinned. “If he wasn’t so busy chatting you up and admiring your tits…”

“Damon, get back in your box. My tits are neither of your business,” I snap as I climb out of the bed to try and get in between them. I lay a hand on the furious idiot’s chest and push gently. “Damon, I’m all right. I wasn’t hurt. I got away.” He glances at me, then his blind fury returns to Morgan.

“If she wasn’t here, you would be a bloody mess on the floor.” I flex my fingers against his tense body to remind him I am here. “Get out.” He releases my supposed security guard who runs from the room like a scolded dog. I chuckle internally at the sight.

“No need to be an asshole,” I mutter. “He did his best.”

Damon spins to face me, grabbing my face between his hands and locking his lips with mine. My eyes pop open in surprise as his tongue pushes past my teeth and into my mouth. He kisses me as if we’re long-lost lovers who haven’t been together in months. His fingers twist into my hair to hold me to him, and my eyes close, enjoying the moment. When he pulls away, my lips tingle in relief from the pressure, and his fingers drop to my shoulders.

“Hell, I’ve wanted to do that for months, and today I thought I may never get the chance,” he whispers, green eyes burning as he looks at me. My nipples harden under his gaze, my stomach somersaulting with the unexpected turn of events.

“Why didn’t you?” I ask softly as I try to contain my emotions.

“Because I was scared.”

“Me too."

The door clicking closed diverts our attention, and we both turn to see Harrison standing in the room with Annie in his arms. “About bloody time,” he says with a smile. “I’ll take this little one home with me. Mrs. D will love to keep her amused while you two…” He pauses, then smirks.

“What about her things?” I ask.

“I have this.” He taps the bag that’s over his shoulder, a baby bag I remember buying. “I’m one hundred percent sure every necessary item I need for Annie is in here, and if not, we do have stores in London. Catch up with each other. I don’t want to see either of you until tomorrow. The doctor says you can leave, Emma. Talk later.” Without waiting for our response, he turns and leaves.

“Are you ready to go home?” Damon asks, linking his fingers through mine. My mind misfires slightly on the word home. Previously, he has used “my home” and corrected himself after any slip-ups. This time, he doesn’t.

“Yes, just let me get changed.” I tug at my hand he’s holding, and he tightens his grip. “Damon, I need to get changed. I can’t leave in a hospital gown. Go wait outside, I’ll only be a minute.”