Tempting Tessa brings heart-pounding action, sizzling romance, and shocking betrayal in the explosive second book of the Black Swan Division Romantic Thriller Series.
Enjoy this chapter with your THRILL RIDES SUBSCRIPTION MEMBERSHIP.
Tempting Tessa, Black Swan Division, Book 2
©2025 Misty Evans
Tessa’s breath hitched as they sprinted across the scaly, black-pitch rooftop. Her arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed her, the wet warmth of blood trickling down to her elbow. She clamped her free hand over the wound and swallowed a curse, forcing her legs to move, the backpack slapping against her side.
Behind her, Tommy kept pace, his footfalls quick on the tar-covered flat expanse.
She ducked behind one of the enormous HVAC units, taking a moment to catch her breath. His face was full of worry as he bent down beside her. “We can’t stop here.”
“Is she still following?”
A crease formed between his brows. “She? “
She nodded. “The shooter is female.”
He looked like he wanted to question her about it, but there wasn’t time. “You’re hurt.”
“Just a scratch.” She shifted so she could peek around the unit. The rain had picked up, and she wiped at her eyes. There was no one in sight, no sounds of pursuit. “I think it’s clear.”
He peered around the metal box with her. No one shot at them. That was good. “Could be a trick. They could be waiting for us to move before they do, too.”
The muffled sounds of traffic filtered up from the street. She’d be happier if they could get to a more populated area. “Guess lunch was a bad idea.”
He drew her back into their hiding spot and examined her arm. “You’re sure it’s only a graze?”
“That’s the least of my worries at the moment, but yes, I’m fine.”
He’d lost the glasses and looked less like a professor. “You need a doctor.”
“No doctor. Come on.” He tried to pull her back down when she stood, but she yanked free of his grip and hustled for the fire escape. Her analysis was correct—the shooter hadn’t followed them onto the roof.
“They could be anywhere down there, waiting for us,” he said, catching up to her.
The sky spit ran in her face. “Then we have to be fast and outthink them.”
He shook his head as she hefted herself onto the metal steps. “Wait,” he ordered. “I go first.”
She started to argue but sensed it was pointless. What had just happened had scared him, and he needed to take control. She’d give him that for now. “Just don’t get shot, okay?”
The narrow steps forced him to turn sideways as he passed her. For a brief second, they were chest-to-chest, face-to-face. His intense gaze snagged hers, his makeover still something she had to get used to. She couldn’t decide if she liked him better with his curls or without. She regretted that she hadn’t been able to run her fingers through them before they’d been lobbed off.
The moment passed, and he descended the rickety metal staircase in leaps, leaving her behind. She hurried to catch up, annoyed that he was intentionally putting space between them in case the shooter was waiting in the alley or on the street. He was making himself a damn target, and she would take him to task for it later.
When she arrived at ground level, he was already in stealth mode, scanning the alley, checking around the corners to view the street, and lifting his gaze to the rooftop lines. “Clear,” he said. “At least, as far as I can tell.”
It was too soon to go pick up the passport, and she couldn’t exactly stroll around with blood dripping off the end of her fingers. She picked at the frayed hole in her jacket and sighed. “This was my favorite,” she complained under her breath.
Wiping blood off her hand and onto her jeans, she was thankful the pants were black so the red stains wouldn’t show as much. Then she laced her clean fingers through Tommy’s, startling him, and leaned against him like a lover. “I need to hide my wound while we make our way back to my place. Don’t want to call attention to us.”
He fished out a handkerchief and broke free from her hand long enough to wad it up and shove it inside her sleeve. He was none too gentle, but she didn’t mind, grateful that the fabric would soak up at least some of the oozing blood. Once he had it in place, his fingers brushed against her chest as he removed his hand. He zipped up her jacket and threaded his hand back through hers. Another of those intense moments passed between them as they stood together in the stinky alley. “Don’t pass out on me from loss of blood, got it?” he groused.
She used her other hand to pat his cheek. “Who’s giving the orders now?”
“This is not a joke, Tessa. Someone tried to kill you.”
She pushed away from the wall and tugged him forward, raising her hood. It did no good against the rain but would help disguise her. “I’m not so sure about that.”
They emerged on the busy street sidewalk, both of them keeping an eye out. “What do you mean?” he asked from the corner of his mouth. “You think they were shooting at me?”
She kept up the pretense of being his girlfriend, clinging to his arm as they skirted pedestrians with umbrellas going in the opposite direction. “I’m not sure who she was shooting at. Lousy shot if she was trying to actually kill either of us.”
“She wounded you,” he argued in that low tone.
“Only because I startled when you yelled, turning my body to dive out of the booth. It would have missed me completely if I’d been sitting still.”
“You’re delusional. “
“Come on. Who would be after me?”
“You were talking to Meg earlier. I don’t know…let me think…the CIA? You told her you were helping me, didn’t you?”
The idea that Meg would betray her made her laugh. “I didn’t say anything about you. The swans have no reason to kill me, Tommy. You’re the one with a target on your back.”
After that, he fell silent, and she continued to maneuver him through the city, keeping a close eye on anyone who appeared to be following them. It was hard not to let down her guard when she saw no one who fit the bill and no other shots rang out. Taking out her phone, she called a ride service as they continued to walk. Three blocks east, they met the driver, who dropped them a hundred yards from her apartment.
Her entire arm felt numb, and she had to grind her teeth against the pain. This was the first time she’d ever been shot, come to think of it. It wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.
“Let me do surveillance before we go in,” Tommy demanded.
“Hurry,” she said. She needed pain relievers in the worst way.
He was gone for nearly five minutes, her staying out of sight in one of the public gardens that were few and far between in this part of the city. When he finally rejoined her, he looked grim. “We need to go.”
“Someone’s casing the place?”
He took her by the hand and began leading her away at a fast clip. “I can’t see anyone, but something’s off. I can feel it in my gut.”
Paranoia or true instinct? Her stomach fell. She really needed those pain meds and a bandage. Should she take the risk and go in anyway? “You’re being paranoid again. I’m telling you, no one is after me. I don’t know who the shooter is, but if she wanted us dead, she’d still be on our trail.”
“We’re not going into that building.”
Stubborn SOB. She tugged her hand out of his. “I’m not running away because your gut says something’s off. Everything about this is off. You’re overreacting because we were shot at, and I get it. It’s triggered your overprotectiveness, but there’s no reason we can’t…”
A van on the street slowed. The windows were tinted, and she couldn’t see the driver. Tommy noticed it, too. He grabbed her by her uninjured arm and propelled her past the water fountain. “Move!” he barked.
The motor revved, the van speeding up. She didn’t need to be told twice. Sprinting toward another of the busier streets that ran past her apartment building, she forgot the pain in her arm. Her chest squeezed with fear—dammit, this was precisely why she didn’t do spy shit anymore. She wasn’t cut out for getting shot and being on the run.
“My car…” she panted as they emerged onto the narrow sidewalk. Hoofing it around the city on foot was for the birds. “It’s two blocks west.”
When he saw she was leading them to a concrete parking garage, he groaned. “It’s too dangerous. We could get cornered in there.”
“Fine.” She didn’t have the energy to argue. She waved him off. “Go your own way. It was nice knowing you.”
“Tessa,” he snapped in warning.
As she sprinted into the structure that reeked of wet concrete and motor oil, she fished her keys from her pocket. A moment of satisfaction hit when she heard him race up behind her.
A battered Honda pulled into the garage, but there was no sign of the van. Her legs shook as she raced up the stairs to the third level, pushing aside the dizziness creeping in.
Her older model, Dacia, waited for them. The car brand had the same name the Romans had given this area before it became the country of Romania. Dacias were popular, and her Sandero blended in with most vehicles on the road.
“I’ll drive,” Tommy said.
She tossed him the keys. “You know the streets well enough?”
“I’ve worked here for the past year.” He slid into the driver’s side as she climbed into the passenger side. “I can manage.”
Good thing it was Sunday. She knew one place she could easily access and get cleaned up without attracting attention. “Head north,” she told him.
He took directions well, but his mood didn’t improve. “If it wasn’t Meg who sold you out, it must be Vasile and Sorina.”
The skin of her arm burned as if on fire. “They didn’t,” she bit out. “They wouldn’t. I have too much on them.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
But it didn’t—not to her. The couple had been her most reliable assets for the past three years.
Yet, there had to be a connection. What was it?
Tommy seemed to realize at the last minute where she was taking them. “You’re kidding,” he said, pulling into a parking space down the block.
Fear that she might not be able to walk that far ate at her. “Bring the keys,” was all she said as she hauled herself out, dragging the backpack with her.
As she kept her spine ramrod straight and prayed they hadn’t been followed since there was no way she could run again, she avoided the giant entry doors of the Biblioteca Națională a României and led Tommy to the entrance marked ‘Employees Only.’
While much of the library had been upgraded in recent years, this entrance only required a simple key to access. The security camera above the door no longer worked.
She took the keyring from Tommy, fingers trembling as she searched for the correct one. Goosebumps covered her body—she was so cold. The ground undulated like an ocean wave under her feet, and she dropped the ring, slamming a hand against the door to steady herself.
Tommy grabbed her good arm to keep her from falling. “I told you not to pass out on me.” He scooped up the keys with his free hand. “Which one am I looking for?”
She wiped rain from her eyes and snatched it from him, finding the one she wanted. Teeth chattering, she held it up and he gently took it from her, using it to unlock the door.
Inside, the library’s familiar hush welcomed her. The smell of leather-bound books, dried paper, and the lofty air of knowledge called to her. She’d always felt safe here. Now, she wondered if she would be able to save her job. If she continued on this road with Tommy, her reliable, risk-free life would be over.
The cavernous lobby was dimly lit, the security desk unstaffed. The faint smell of the janitor’s lemon polish tickled her nose.
Tommy followed her up the broad steps to the third floor. Her haven. Each day, she came here and filed away the books that patrons checked out. She found incredible volumes in Romanian and English that sparked her curiosity, deepened her thought processes, and challenged her beliefs, reading them on her breaks and taking some of them home to stack next to her bed for late-night reading.
“Stay close,” she murmured, allowing his hand to remain on her elbow. She was glad for it, her entire body shaking now. She bypassed her office and ducked into the employee lounge, locking the door behind them. The room was small but functional, with a battered couch, a mini fridge, and a sink.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
Although the female in her balked at his gruffness, her legs wobbled so hard, she was happy to do so, sinking into the cushions with relief.
He snatched a dish towel from the counter and ran it under the faucet, ringing it out and bringing it to her. With a gentleness that surprised her, he helped her remove her coat. She hissed as the agony flared to life again. The room spun, and she unwillingly toppled sideways.
Tommy said, “Whoa, there. You’re going into shock.”
“I need…aspirin…” she said through her chattering teeth.
Once he got her upright, he removed his bloody handkerchief from her wound and stuck it in his pocket. Then he began cleaning her injury. “You need more than that.”
She bit her lip to keep from crying out. It wasn’t just the pain; it was the realization that they couldn’t go back to her place. Her apartment had never been compromised before. It was her sanctuary. Dammit all to hell.
He rinsed out the towel. “Do you have a first aid kit in this place? You need stitches.”
“It’s just a scratch. No stitches.”
“While it’s not deep, there’s a generous amount of tissue damage.”
Her words came out clipped. “Behind the circulation desk, and a second is in the head librarian’s office.”
He used paper towels to form a compress and handed it to her. Then he checked the fridge and found a bottle of water. “Keep pressure on the wound and drink this. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“There are security cameras on both of those places,” she warned before he could storm out. “You can’t go anywhere near them.”
He glanced over his shoulder when he got to the door. “Let me worry about that.”
And then he was gone.
___
Tessa doesn’t let herself need anyone. Is she going to need Tommy?
Misty