You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 177

My pulse went feral, fast enough to hurt.

"Fuck," I closed my eyes and thunked the back of my head against the seat.

My fingers strangled the steering wheel until the knuckles blanched. Heat climbed my wrists. The name hammered the inside of my chest like it was trying to get out and run to her first.

She was here. She was here. Rali was here.

I opened my eyes as my hand found the door handle. Strong hands yanked me back, hard enough to staple me to the seat.

Instinct moved first. My palm went for my gun, ready to shoot them in the head.

"Don't," a voice snapped at my shoulder. "That isn't a smart move. She'll be frightened If she clocks that you've clocked her. Right now, every man from her past is a threat."

Those were the only words that stopped me. The feral thing in my head snapped its teeth in disagreement. It didn't care about her reaction. It just wanted to move across the road, pull her into its fucking arms, and hug her so tight professional help would be needed to pry them away.

I stared out to the sidewalk where she moved easy beside another woman, hands tucked light into the front pockets of those loose-leg jeans.

I didn't know what the hell they were saying, but then she smiled.

It wasn't the old smile. It was thinner, repaired, a little off-center. And still it made my heart kneel and press its forehead to the floor.

Fuck. She was here. In Torontea. I'd found her. I fucking found my Rali.

"So, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I bit out, my eyes welded to her silhouette. "You better talk fast. She's getting away and I'm not letting that happen."

They were heading toward the bus station.

"I think we should follow her. Know where she lives," Eric suggested.

"That tracked, boss."

My fingers strangled the wheel. Watching her from across the street without touching her was dangling a bone over a starving dog.

I needed her. Right now more than I had in the past weeks. What did she sound like now—still soft when happy, iron when angry? Would her hair still smell like bubblegum? I doubt that'd be possible when she hadn't used the shampoo in months. Does her skin still smelt like caramel? Will she still get gooseflesh when I touch her?

"Damn it," I released between clenched teeth, my nails digging into the leather of the steering.

"We've found her already. There's no point rushing and ruining everything," Miles said, calmer than the engine.

My head thudded back against the seat, a hard knock to keep me tethered. I said her name silently, again and again, a rosary I pressed into the mouth of my beast, begging it to listen to them. What it wanted right after hugging her was to throw her over its shoulder and take her home whether she wanted it or not.

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