Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,34

thoughts.

I whirl around to face his smirk and take a deep breath, trying not to look as rattled as I feel. “I didn’t expect to be here, that’s for sure.” I continue on my expedition as if I don’t care that I’ve been caught snooping or that his presence makes the hair on my arm stand on end. He had me brought up here and according to his logic about kidnappers and captives and who started what, leads me to believe that what I’m doing isn’t intrusive.

“Funny, it seems like you planned to be here. Or did you and the other goons just decide you hadn’t robbed me enough and it was more like a last-minute thing.”

I open my mouth to reply and close it just as quickly. He’s got me on that one.

I shrug, continuing to pretend to be unaffected by his presence.

“Cat got your tongue, Mic?” he asks, leaning against the counter on his elbows.

“I like cats,” I reply, sounding bored. “Loyal. Self-cleaning. Affectionate. You’ve got a bunch of them in the alley. They look hungry. You should feed them.”

“I need more than hunger as a reason to feed anyone,” he replies. His lip twitches. “You like cats?” he asks as if he can’t believe anyone can like cats.

“I love cats,” I reply, opening and closing one of the kitchen cabinets without really looking inside.

I glance at Pike who’s trying not to smile and realize what he’s doing.

“What?” I ask, standing across the counter from him. “No sarcastic sexists comment about how you like pussy?”

His eyes hold mine. “Nah, too easy.”

“Ah, so you like a challenge.” I point out, mirroring his position with my elbows on the counter.

He grins. “Trying to figure me out, Mic?”

“Nope. I’ve already got you figured out.” I point to the worn black leather couch in the small living room. “Single.” I wave a hand at Pike himself, to his tight white tank top encasing his ab muscles like one of those vacuum packing machines from the infomercials. It’s ridiculous how beautiful he is on the outside. The perfect mask to hide what he really is inside.

Pike clears his throat, smirking as he catches me staring.

I tear my gaze away, feeling the blush rise in my cheeks. “You take care of yourself. You obviously workout to look...uh, like that. You eat clean.” I gesture to the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “But you also don’t play by the rules, and you’re willing to take chances, knowing full well the consequences.”

Pike isn’t impressed. “So, I guess they’re handing out good IQ scores to anyone with eyes in their head?”

I take it as a challenge to dig deeper. He’s obviously done his research on me, but the only research I have available to me when it comes to him is in this apartment.

The bookshelf in the corner is completely empty. “Intelligent and crafty, but not book smart. I’m going to say you didn’t finish school, not because you weren’t smart enough, because you are, but because you lacked interest.” I spot a note on the counter. It’s to Thorne about inventory. The lettering is barely legible. Inventory is spelled wrong, and it’s written in all lower-case letters with no commas or periods. I smile confidently. “Also, in regards to school, I’m guessing the dysgraphia didn’t help.”

Pike cocks his head and plucks the cigarette from his lips. “The fucking what?”

I explain. “What dyslexia is to reading, dysgraphia is to writing. It’s a visual impairment where the person has a hard time using capital letters or punctuation consistently. Adults who weren’t diagnosed as children tend to stick to lowercase letters, plus they tend to avoid punctuation all together.” I slide the note over to him.

“First off, anyone could tell me that I’m single and intelligent. That don’t mean you figured me out,” he points at me with the cigarette. “And I was diagnosed as dyslexic from the time I was a kid. Never heard of the other thing, but that sounds about right. That was…”

“Impressive?”

“Irritating,” he counters.

A new kind of uncomfortable makes its presence known. As if the universe is fully aware that having this kind of easy back and forth banter with the man whose been torturing me goes against everything that’s natural or right in the world. I make a mental note to inform the universe that I’m fully aware of this oddity and ask how to make amends.

I remember the knife tucked into the back of my pants.

As soon as I escape.

My bare feet