Page 8 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

“He pissed himself.”

Sure enough, a puddle had formed under him. “That’s gross.”

“Fifty-thousand volts will do that to you.” Neco stared down at the guy and cursed roughly.

“What? I stopped him, didn’t I?”

He lifted his head, expression hard. “If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have made a break for it in the first damn place.”

My spine went ramrod. “Now hang on a minute . . .”

“Don’t,” he growled. “I’m not getting into this. Not now.” Then he leaned down, grabbed the guy on the floor, and threw him over his massive shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Pee immediately soaked Neco shirt at the shoulder. Okay, now I got why he was so annoyed.

I kept my mouth shut and followed him back to the truck.

“Open the back.”

I did what I was told and he threw the guy in and cuffed him to a metal ring behind the seat. Then he yanked off his shirt, dumped it on the side of the road, and grabbed my water bottle from the front seat, pouring it over his shoulder and back, washing himself off.

Given the seriousness of the situation I currently found myself in, ogling him should have been the last thing on my mind, but my eyes went right where they shouldn’t, along with my dirty mind. Shirtless was one thing, but shirtless and wet—my body went up in flames, despite the tangy scent of urine still lingering in the air.

He held out his hand. “Keys.”

“What?” I forced my eyes up to his face.

“Keys,” he gritted out. “Give them to me.”

“I can drive.”

He didn’t drop his hand, that don’t-even-try-and-fuck-with-me expression front and center.

I took a wild stab and assumed that was a “no.”

I fished the keys from my pocket and handed them over, then climbed in the passenger side. Neco got in behind the wheel and a second later we were headed to the station to drop off our guy. Neco didn’t speak the whole way, and neither did I. He was still angry, maybe angrier than I’d ever seen him. Tension seemed to flow off him. It was suffocating, so heavy and thick it filled the car. For years I’d lived with a woman who, though she had insisted on the title of Mom, had hated me in a way that could not be mistaken for anything else. I’d become an expert at sensing people’s moods, especially when they were pissed off. I was like a human weather vane predicting a storm. I’d been so tuned to her, I knew exactly when one was rolling in. When that happened, I got the hell out of there.

Neco would never hurt me, I knew this down to my bones, but I hated when he got like this, and Neco knew it, too. Which meant, like always, he sensed my unease. And I watched as he forced himself to relax, to calm down. He did that for me. Conscious or not, he picked up on my emotions like I did his and adjusted accordingly. He’d been doing it since I was a little girl.

My nerves began to ease off almost immediately, and what I was left with was a fire burning low and deep. A hunger for the man beside me that would never be satisfied. Seeing him in action tonight, the way he’d thrown that guy around like he weighed nothing, it only managed to make me want him more.

I shoved my glasses up my nose and swiveled in my seat, looking out my window. It was either that or keep stealing glances at his ripped, inked skin, his abs and pecs . . . those biceps flexing as he drove. Not a good idea.

The air shifted. It still smelled like piss, and Neco was still angry, but he had his shit under control and I was thankful for it. I was also damned annoyed with him. Unfortunately, that didn’t squash the urge to climb into his lap and take a bite out of him, so I kept my eyes averted until we arrived at the station.

Neco shut off the Explorer. “Wait here.” Then he shoved open his door, angled out, and walked around to get our friend from the backseat. The guy had started groaning a couple streets back, so I knew for sure that I hadn’t killed him. At least that was something.

I watched through the window as Neco took him in, still shirtless, which he didn’t seem to care about in the least. I also didn’t miss the appreciative stares, blatant, I might add, from several women in the vicinity. I didn’t blame them. Not only was he gorgeous, he had that whole cocky swagger thing going on that seemed to draw women to him like bees to a flower garden. Lord knows I wasn’t immune. I had no right to get jealous, though I was, painfully so. I’d hoped over the years that it would get easer, seeing him with someone else. It never did.

Neco was no monk. Why would he be? He owed me nothing, despite our fucked-up non-relationship relationship.

He’d never even kissed me.

Processing took a little while, and I could see him through the glass-fronted doors filling out the paperwork while he talked to a female officer. She seemed to be smiling a lot, which annoyed me. Finally, he strode out, swagger in full effect, and I sucked in a sharp breath. I always did. No matter how many times I laid eyes on the guy, his effect on me never lessened or wavered. Sometimes it scared me, this thing tying me to him. It felt so big, larger than anything in my whole world, and I knew I had to somehow let it go if I wanted more for myself. My dream job. A relationship with a guy that actually wanted me. Maybe even kids.

Hanging on to the hope that Neco would one day have some earth-shattering epiphany, that he would suddenly fall head over heels in love with me was a waste of life. It wasn’t healthy.

The door opened and he climbed in. “I’ll drop you home then get Jude to take me back for my car.”