That Walking Blood Bag is a Queen

side door of the Ro

lack leather jacket and a heavy silver Chrome

e black umbrella and wa

er her head, letting the freezing rain

revealing a face with aggressi

as he looked Ainsley up and down, t

curse about the Thomas

ther jacket. The inside of the jack

Ainsley's thin, f

liar warmth of family care. Her rigid muscles i

d open the massive, rear sui

od toward the interior, making it very clear th

nd climbed into the caver

owed by the heated air and that aggres

lammed shut behind h

und of the rain and completely blocked K

turned h

t into a pair of bottoml

plush leather seat. His presence su

. His long legs were crossed at the knee, and a

't say

alculating precision of a predator, dragging from the

made Ainsley's chest tighten

her hips, pressing her b

anded her a folded, to

ed. A ten-million-dollar Patek Phili

voice was a low, magnetic rumble that

ed out and to

dentally brushed against the

ck instantly, as if she ha

the driver's seat and s

ugh the rearview mirror.

he cashmere towel

on the Washington D.C. power players, trying to match

er eyes dart b

th. He didn't offer a single word to expose his ide

he heavy car ont

u really going to walk all the way ba

ferent. "I was just going to crash at

d clinic" left her mouth, Hill's finge

leam flashed in

d his head to l

erground clinic?" Hill asked. His tone was casu

rt slammed ag

ain perfectly steady. "I used t

e was 'The Scalpel'-the legendary underground surgeon with a ten-million-do

r face for three

y accepting the lie, but the da

etlights flashed rapidly ac

gain, his voice cutti

hinner than you d

up. Her muscles locke

ard coughs from the front sea

lare at the rearview mirror. C

his upper

ing only inches from her face. She could f

o a dangerous whisper

met, I should naturally be kept u