“We’ll need those rounds.”
“You can have whatever the fuck you want. I want Vincent Matteo. Find him.”
Caleb disconnected the call, the need to kick some serious ass overwhelming in its intensity.
“Caleb? Where are we going?”
“Well, we sure as hell can’t go back to your place,” he snapped. If she’d kept her ass at home tonight, this would have never happened. No, it could have been worse. She could have been alone at home or … hell, he was a bastard, wasn’t he? He was sure she’d been scared and was probably now on her way to being in shock. He needed to get his head out of his ass.
“Caleb?”
He looked her way. Pure, unadulterated fury poured from her gaze.
“I don’t give a crap where we go.” Samantha held her hands out in front of her. Blood covered her palms. “But, wherever it is, we should probably get there quick.”
Chapter 2
There were two things guaranteed to sober a girl up right quick. Being shot at and an angry Caleb Martin.
Caleb slammed on the brakes, the truck fishtailing as he forced it to the side of the road. Samantha threw out her hands, one against the dash and one against the door, to keep herself from colliding with either.
She turned with every intention of yelling at him, but a glimpse of blood on his arm brought her up short. “Are you hurt?” For all she knew, it could be her blood smeared across his arm.
His jaw clenched. “Just a scratch. I’ll live.”
He struggled out of his seatbelt, pushed the center console up, and then he was on her. His hands running over her head, chest, arms, stomach.
Under different circumstances, Sam figured she’d enjoy this. She’d dreamed of his hands on her. Caressing her, teasing her, pleasuring her. Now, however, the pain in her side outweighed any desire she’d had to let Caleb feel her up. Not to mention he’d never treated her with anything but distain. He didn’t want her. Sexually, or otherwise.
“Are you hit? Jesus Christ, Samantha. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m bleeding all over your seat. How’s that for something?” She squirmed around, putting her back against the door to give her better leverage to hold him off. “I’m not hit, Caleb.” When had he grown nine hands? She slapped at his arms as he tried to lift the front of her shirt. “Stop, just stop. I fell on a bottle or something when you tackled me. I’ll be fine if you get me somewhere I can clean up. Take me to a gas station and drop me off for all I care. I can use the bathroom there and call a cab.”
He reared back, clearly insulted. His eyes narrowed as he snarled at her. “I’m not dropping you off at a fucking gas station. What kind of man do you think I am?”
Samantha looked down, studying the blood drying on her palms. She knew what kind of man he was. He put on a good front with all the scowling and grouchiness, but Samantha saw right through him. Always had. Maybe that was why he hated her.
He was the kind of man who would give his life for those he loved. A man tormented by his past, something Samantha understood all too well. And he was stubborn as a mule.
They were two peas in a pod.
“Fine. Whatever.” she said quietly, tired of fighting with him. She turned forward again, careful of the glass from the shattered window. She hissed as a piece pressed into her palm, adding to her injuries. So far, her jeans had protected her backside from the broken pebbles, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. “If you won’t take me home, then take me to a hotel.”
“I need to know how badly you’re hurt. Do you need a hospital?”
“No hospital. Hotel.”
“You aren’t going to let me look?”
“No.” She’d had enough of his hands on her for one night. “I’m fine, Caleb,” she murmured. “Nothing a pair of tweezers, some peroxide, and a bandage can’t take care of.” Her voice drifted off.
“Let me see.”
“No.”
Caleb closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “Wow, that had to hurt.” Even in her amusement, Samantha’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as her mind struggled with his sudden concern for her.
The woman in her recognized him as a delicious male specimen—golden good looks, amazing body, and bad boy attitude. Caleb oozed the kind of confidence that came from knowing he could get the job done. What woman wouldn’t dream of having a man like that riding between her thighs?
The bedroom was the one place Sam wouldn’t mind giving up control. Relish it, actually, if she could find a man who could handle her. Deep down in her frilly parts, she knew Caleb could be that man. If only she was more to him than just an adjunct responsibility to his sister.