If the cold hardness of a gun pressing unrelenting into the back of his skull wasn't enough of an indication he was in trouble, then the sheer terror on Abigail's face was more than adequate to convince him. Fuck, if they pushed the damn thing any further into his cranium, he'd be able to taste it, he thought as his head was shoved forward. Gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack, he tried to keep Abigail blocked by his body. Creeping anxiety tensed his muscles into tightly wound bundles as he tried to contain the anger that had sluiced over him.

Every instinct in his body was screaming for him to defend her against whoever was putting them in danger. The panic on her face only feeding the fire until he was literally seeing red. But he managed to force himself to stay in control. Any heroics on his part may end up with both of them dead. He would have to bide his time and wait for the bastard to drop his guard.

Wrestling to keep his face as calm as possible, his eyes anxiously scanned Abigail's paled out features as she twisted furiously in his grasp. There was no way he was going to let her go anywhere near the asshole who was threatening him. His mind burned frantically to think of a way to defuse the situation to keep her safe, but he was in a bad position to do much more than be a human shield. He cursed as a heavy hand closed on his shoulder, pushing his head further down with the barrel.

"Vivian!" Abigail shouted, wiggling like a madwoman to get off the counter.

"Vivian?" His eyes widened at the name.

The holder of the gun currently burrowing into his scalp didn't sound like a Vivian. They sounded more like a goddamn Chuck Norris. Adam clamped down on Abby's thighs to keep her from escaping. Her fear palpable.

"Run, Abby! I've got you covered." Another shove making Adam bow his head. "Move one fucking toe asswipe and I will repaint my kitchen with your brain matter," the husky voice warned.

There was no way in hell whoever owned that voice was a Vivian. Adam's mouth twisted in a snarl. He wanted to rip that fuckers head off with his bare hands. "Stay put, Abigail," he hissed, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a small shake to bring her attention away from their attacker and back to him. His eyes begging her to obey.

"Take your hands off her, dickhead," the man graveled in his ear. It wasn't the words which made Adam drop his hands, but the distinctive click of a gun being cocked. "Get your hands up where I can see them."

Slowly, Adam raised his hands above his head, wanting nothing more than to turn around and throat punch the asshole, but knowing for Abigail's safety...he had no choice but to comply.

"Oh God! Vivian, stop it!"

Abigail slipped out from under Adam and leaped onto the kitchen floor. His eyes closed briefly as he cursed under his breath. The woman truly lacked the ability to listen.

"It isn't who you think it is," she pleaded behind him.

Who the fuck did this guy think he was that he needed a gun, thought Adam as he twitched with the need to turn around. If he could locate where Abigail was, he would be able to disarm the guy and turn the circumstances around. Heaven help the man, he was about to introduce him to his teeth by liberating them from his mouth.

"Who is it then?"

Adam felt the muzzle fall away from his head. Taking a deep breath, he spun around. Dropping his hands and balling them into fists, he was ready to beat the fucking hell out of... His eyes grew large as he came face to face with an elderly woman who looked like she had emerged out of the screen of an old 1950's black and white movie. The silver plated revolver she held in her arthritic grip looked like the kind Jonathan and he had played cowboys and Indians with when they were kids.

"What the..." The words ran away from him while his eyes bounced from his assailant to Abigail as Adam grappled with what his vision was telling him, but his mind refused to accept.

"Don't let the gun fool you asshole. It may look like a peashooter, but I guarantee it's the real deal." The man...or...the woman...or the mysterious Vivian or whoever the fuck they were...waved the gun under his nose.

Adam shoved both hands through his hair, locking them behind his head, rage mixed with frustration coursing through his body. Looking at the floor, he breathed in deeply and exhaled through his nose while he tried to gather his wits and calm his racing heart. Releasing his grip, he turned and faced a still pale Abigail and pegged her with an unrelenting stare.

"Who the fuck is this?" he snarled, gesturing towards the Al Capone wannabe.

"Um...Adam...this is Vivian Cruz. I live with her. Vivian...Adam Steele." Abigail waved a hand between the two of them before wrapping her arms around her middle and hugging herself tightly.

Her slight trembling as she tried valiantly to hold herself together, made Adam swallow his annoyance. Gone was his fury as he stalked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her gently into the crook of his arm. She must be just as rattled by what had transpired as he was. Pressing his lips into her hair, he kissed her softly.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered. Satisfaction flowing through him as she snuggled deeper into his arms.

"Adam Steele?" Vivian looked blankly at him, narrowing his eyes before smiling...sweetly. Spinning the gun around like an old time gunslinger, Vivian tucked it into the belt around his waist and offered Adam his hand. "A pleasure to meet you." The voice which had been completely male a few minutes ago, was now honeyed and feminine in a gritty sort of way.

A drag queen. I've been held at gunpoint by a goddamn drag queen, Adam thought using every ounce of self-control he possessed to not smash his fist into the man's face. This was a new one for the fucking books. Reluctantly he took the offered palm and shook it, saying something relatively pleasant. Glancing down briefly at the gun glinting softly in the glow of the florescent light, he pulled Abigail tighter against him.

"Oh...this," Vivian shrugged at him sheepishly. "Don't mind this old thing." She waved a hand at the firearm swaddled at her hip and walked over to the counter. "Ah, tea!" she clapped her hands together and turned to the two of them. "Let's have a cup shall we?"

Adam looked over at Abigail's apprehensive face and swallowed the hostile words climbing up this throat and he gave a forced nod of agreement.

Sitting uncomfortably at the vintage dining room table, Adam twisted the lukewarm cup of tea in his hands watching the two women chat back and forth. He snorted quietly, shaking his head in bewilderment. How they were able to giggle and talk about nonsense as if nothing had occurred, fucking amazed him. His hands still trembled when he remembered how close he could have come to losing her. Absently, he rubbed the spot where the gun had been nestled in his hair.

His brow dropped down to a frown. What the hell happened to this girl that would constitute meeting strangers with a weapon? Run Abby...the continual repetition of that implored phrase coated his mind. Run. Adam gazed into the amber colored liquid in his cup. Why would she run? Who was she running from?

He lifted his head, his attention captured away from his thoughts as Abigail threw her head back and laughed at something Vivian said. The sound of it resonating inside his chest making his heart skip a beat. Her lips, still swollen from his kisses, were pulled back in a breathtaking smile and he imagined them on his once again. His hands running over her body as he consumed her, stealing her breath and replacing it with his own.

Or they would be if he wasn't stuck sitting here at this fucking table sipping tea with the Mad Hatter. He glowered at Vivian, who sat as innocent as hell while she took a drink of her sugared brew. Pinky out at the appropriate angle. A perfect picture of etiquette. The same hand which threatened him with a Colt Frontier 40 caliber six shooter.

Apparently, Hopalong Cassidy's evening had been cut short by an accidental hip fracture during intermission. Adam shook his head and returned his stare into the murky depths of his cup. Jonathan had been right. The girl was trouble. Absolute unadulterated trouble which bordered on craziness. If he was as intelligent as he believed he was, he would cut his losses and walk away.

Adam's eyes crept over to Abigail, locking with hers across the table. He watched as the anxiety in them melted into something hot...for him. Desire ran thick through his blood, making him adjust himself in his seat for the arousal cramping his lap. The delicious friction between them pulsated in the air and her trembling smile obliterated any thought of walking away. He could no more leave her behind than he could rip out his heart and leave it laying on this table.

"Well...I think I have taken enough of your kid's time." Vivian murmured around her cup as she tilted it back and drained the last of it. Setting the cup onto the table with a quiet click, she turned her gaze to Adam. "I'm going to call it a night. It's very late and I'm sure Mr. Steele has a busy morning ahead," she said, giving him a tight smile.

Adam winced inwardly. The subtle hint was not misplaced on him as he stood and helped her to her feet. Or vailed threat was more like it, he assumed as he rolled his eyes behind Vivian's back.

"Abigail will see me out," he stated firmly. It wasn't a question, but a demand.

"So formal Mr. Steele." Vivian looked over her shoulder and raised a heavily painted eyebrow at him, smirking. "Until we meet again." She turned and held out her hand.

"Hopefully the next time will require less ammunition," Adam said dryly, taking her hand and giving it a transitory shake.

Vivian barked a laugh, wrapping a thin arm around Abigail's shoulders. "That's entirely up to you Mr. Steele. Hurt my girl here and you'll have me to deal with." She winked at him, making a fingered gun and firing it in his direction.

"Vivian! Behave yourself!" Abigail admonished, mortification clear on her face. "She doesn't mean that."

"The fuck I don't," Vivian snorted as she walked out of the kitchen.

He watched as Abigail stared after her, shock making her jaw drop before she snapped it shut and turned to Adam. "Well...that was..." she trailed off. Embarrassment turning her face a deep crimson and he desperately wanted to cup her sweet face to feel the warmth of it under his palm.

"Interesting," Adam finished for her, quirking a brow.

She breathe out. "That's a nice way to put it." Avoiding his gaze, she walked into the living room and picked his jacket up off the futon. "Thank you for not..." she stalled.

"For not what, Abigail?" Adam walked over to where she stood. Crooking a finger under her chin, he gently pulled it up until her smoky eyes met his.

"For not calling the police," she whispered, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Lightly, he pulled her lip out from being abused, smoothing it gently with the pad of his thumb.

"I told you, Abigail. I would protect you and I still stand by what I said. If not calling the authorities is what it takes to make you feel safe, then that's what I will do," he said quietly. The truth of the matter, he hadn't even considered it as a possibility. Even though guilt ate at him for the fib, he kept his face blank as she scrutinized him.

"Why."

The simple word was no more than a breath, but the power behind it made Adam stagger for an answer. If he gave her the wrong one, there was no doubt in his mind...she would bolt. But, neither was he ready to start bleeding hearts and flowers for her.

Her lips were parted, face beautifully flushed as she waited for his answer. Stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, Adam struggled with what to say. Wishing he could kiss the question into obscurity, but knowing she wouldn't allow it.

"Because, it's what you want, Abigail." He sighed. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, turning her head and placing it against his chest. "You would be amazed what I would do when it comes to you," he said quietly. It sure as shit amazed him. He frowned as he held her close. Easing her back a fraction, he looked down into her face. "What I would do to give you what you need."

"What do I need?"

He grinned. "Me."

Laughing dryly, she pulled out of his arms and held up his now wrinkled jacket which had suffered from their embrace.

"I can see why you are so good at what you do Mr. Steele." She placed the jacket in his arms when he refused to take it. "That was one hell of a sales pitch," she muttered, walking over to the door and opening it. "But I don't think..." she paused for a moment, a little V appearing in her forehead as she frowned at her feet.

"It wasn't a pitch," he growled, throwing his jacket over his arm, he strode purposely over to her. "Don't think Abigail. What's going on between us doesn't have to be analyzed right now, but it can't be ignored either." He coaxed her head up. "It's going to happen."

He watched as the storm clouds built in her eyes. Shadows of doubt, sparked with fear blinked up at him. These secrets she held custody of were keeping her away from him and he was not about to let that happen. For whatever reason, she called to something deep inside and he was compelled to answer the cry. He knew it wouldn't be easy to chip away at the walls she had erected around her secrets, but if there was one thing Adam Steele was renowned for...it was his tenacity. It was time they cleared the air. One way or another.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night." Her eyes popping wide at the commanding tone of his voice made him curse under his breath. "Please," he added, gentler.

"I can't. I'm working." She shook her head. "Besides...I told you...I have a boyfriend." The stuttered response was enough to let him know she was lying, but her outright refusal to meet him in the eye, clinched it.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Do not insult my intelligence, Abigail. We both know there is no boyfriend." When she opened her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a glare. "Do you really think I would allow some boy to stand in the way of what I want? Make no mistake, Abigail, nothing stands in the way when I want something," he paused, letting his words soak in, "or someone."

She started at him. Dumbfounded.

"Now, is there a boyfriend I need to contend with or not."

There was a long silence. "No," she whispered.

"Good girl." He stroked the side of her face. "When do you get off work?" Adam asked, biting his tongue and refraining from speaking his mind about his opinion on her plan to go back to work at the club. It wasn't any of his business. Not yet.

"Late," she hedged, shrugging her shoulders.

Obviously, she wasn't going to make this easy.

He blew out a frustrated breath and pulled out his phone. "Give me your number and I will call and see when it's suitable for you so I can arrange a time." Before she answered him, he glared at her.  "Don't argue with me, Abigail," he warned. "I've had a gun pointed to my head and I think I have been more than gracious about it. The least you could do is agree to have dinner with me." Adam scowled at her. He was not above using guilt to achieve his goal.

Her annoyance flared to life, chasing away the thunder clouds. "If you would let me finish, I was going to tell you I don't have a phone." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him.

"You don't own a fucking cell phone?" He dragged a hand through his hair. Fuck! When did it become so hard to ask a woman out on a date? Because she's not any woman, a little voice in his head answered. You are going to have to work for this one Steele.

"Nope." She shook her head and smirked up at him. "I can give you Jo Jo's number. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you."

The little minx was thoroughly enjoying his awkwardness, her blatant impertinence was...refreshing. Smiling down at her, he scooped her up against his chest, pressing her close enough he could feel her heart surging erratically against his. Leaning down, his lips claimed hers hot and hungry as he buried his tongue into her mouth.

When he lifted his head, she was panting and breathless. Running a hand leisurely along her neck and over her shoulder, he kissed her lightly on the temple. "You'll be hearing from me," he purred, taking in her glazed expression. Turning on his heel, he left her shocked and sagging against the doorframe.

Adam shrugged into his jacket as he made his way to his car. Thankfully, it had survived the eight year old rendition of the world's soccer cup unscathed. Getting in, he leaned back into the supple leather and closed his eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath. The hit of her vanilla scent invaded the new car smell he was accustomed to. Lifting up his jacket, he sniffed and sighed. She surrounded him.

Would this ravenous preoccupation he had with the girl go away if he succumbed to his desires and took her to his bed? He scrubbed a palm over his face as vivid images of her naked writhing body beneath him floated into his subconscious. Would he be satisfied enough to walk away? Would he want to? That was a question he was unable to answer, but feared the most. What if one taste was not enough? What if...he wanted it all?

Shaking his head to dispel his thoughts, he pushed the ignition button and the Aston roared to life. Looking up, he saw a shadowed figure peeking behind the curtain of the apartment he just left. At least he wasn't the only one cursed by this spell. Smiling, he pulled out.

Punching a button on the steering wheel, he tapped his fingers impatiently waiting for an answer.

"Yes, sir?" Marissa's only slightly groggy and annoyed voice filtered in through the stereo system.

Adam winced when he glanced over at the digital display and saw the lateness of the hour. He would have to make it up to her. "I need you to procure a cell phone."

"Right now?" Her awe coming clear through the Dolby surround sound.

"First thing in the morning would be fine. Goodnight, Marissa."

"Goodnight, sir."

Hunting through his phone, he found what he was looking for. Pushing play, he pointed the car towards a highway while Snow Patrol pulsed and he allowed the vanilla to envelope him. Wishing it was her next to him, instead of her ghost.