Helen shivered and heard a small moan lift from her mouth. Every cell in her body stood at attention from that one little touch. Her skin grew warm and her abdomen tightened against a jolt of heat. She wanted something she couldn’t name. Needed it. It wasn’t just desire. It went deeper than that. Bone deep. Soul deep. He had something that belonged to her and she wanted it. Even if it killed her.
His lips slid over her cheek, barely touching. Maybe not even touching, just stirring the fine hairs along her skin. Whatever he was doing, it was wonderful, fear or not. She felt as if she was being filled up with energy. She felt more alive than she ever had before. All from a barely there touch from the man who would watch her die.
Freaking irony.
From somewhere far off, Drake heard the old woman gasp in shock and he struggled to pull himself back to reality. By the time he’d made the long, long journey to the here-and-now, his fingers had wrapped themselves around one of the brunette’s braids so that her head was tilted back to the optimum angle for a slow, deep kiss. Perfect.
He would have done just that if it hadn’t been for the way she was clutching her purse against her chest like a shield. She was still afraid of him. Shit.
“Give me your name,” he ordered her, not caring how rough his voice sounded. He needed her name. Hell, he needed a lot more of her than just that, but with the audience they had, he was going to have to settle for that small piece.
“Helen Day.”
God, he loved the sound of her voice, so soft and sweet. He closed his eyes again, letting the sound of her, the smell of her, sink into him. He could spend half a year just listening to her talk, letting the gentle sweep of her voice soothe him.
He was way too wrapped up in how he could make the small space between them even smaller when he heard a warning shout from Thomas half a second too late. Miss Mabel’s walker slammed down over his head, sending pain screaming over his skull.
“Go back to your wife, you . . . you man-whore!” shouted the old woman, raising her walker for another strike.
Whore? Wife? Drake had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t stand there long enough to ask. He could already feel a lump swelling up on the back of his skull. The old woman might look frail, but she packed one heck of a wallop.
Drake reached for Miss Mabel, intending to carefully take the aluminum weapon from her hands before she hurt herself. Or him.
He was too late. Thomas was already on the case and had taken the old lady into his burly arms, holding her carefully despite her struggles.
Helen stood up, pushing her way around Drake to get to the old lady. “Let her go!”
Thomas ignored her, still holding on to the old woman, trying to calm her down with soothing words. “I’m not going to hurt you, ma’am. None of us are going to hurt any of you. Isn’t that right, Zach?”
Five feet away, Zach had Lexi pinned against the countertop by the cash register, nearly bent over backward. She was fighting him, pounding and clawing at him, but Zach accepted her blows, grinning like they tickled.
“Hey, she’s the one trying to hurt me. I just want to talk.” Zach’s voice dipped lower and his grin widened. “But I’m willing to play if you want, honey. I don’t mind if you like it rough.”
Lexi growled and lashed out at Zach with her fists.
From the corner of his eye, Drake saw Helen start to make a dash toward Thomas and the old woman, but Drake was faster. He snagged her by looping an arm around her waist and pulling her up against his chest. It was a mistake. As soon as he had her soft, curvy body against his, his brain started to shut down. From a vague, fuzzy distance, he could feel her fighting to free herself, pushing and pulling at his arm. He could hear her frightened voice calling her friends’ names. He could sense the panic inside her, the frantic strength that increased with every swift beat of her heart. He just couldn’t seem to figure out what it all meant or what he should do. All he knew was he couldn’t let her go. He needed her.
This whole situation had gone completely out of control, but he just didn’t care. He had Helen in his arms, reluctant as she was, and he didn’t hurt anymore. For the first time in decades, he felt good. It was such a shock that it left him reeling, staring stupidly at the part between her silky, dark braids. He wanted to bend down and kiss the smooth skin at the nape of her neck so bad it made him shake.
Drake had bent to do just that when his grip failed and Helen slipped out of his grasp.
Pain slammed into him with a tangible force that drove him to his knees right there on the chipped tile floor. Power flooded him and ripped through his veins, hammering his bones with pounding agony. He was sure every one of them had been broken, that his organs had been pulverized. Nothing else could explain so much pain. He couldn’t stand. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.
The power he housed inside his body had grown slowly, steadily, over the course of years. The pressure had increased over decades, giving him a chance to get used to the pain it caused. But now it all came flooding back inside him in the space of an instant and his brain couldn’t adjust. His body couldn’t function. At the gray edges of his mind, he heard himself scream, a terrible, high-pitched noise. He knew he was dying, but right now that was a good thing. It would all be over soon, but it couldn’t be soon enough.
Helen wasn’t sure what she’d done to Vision Man to send him to his knees, but she didn’t stop to worry about it. Miss Mabel was still trying to get away from the big bruiser who held her, and it looked as though she was running out of steam.