Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,12

further. She reaches to the phone on the nightstand and holds it close to her chest. “I’ll call the police!”

She really is adorable — and hot. Which shouldn’t be the right combination. But as I said, I live for weird.

I smile despite myself, my voice coming out in a rumble. “Of course you won’t.”

“Of course, I will. What will you do about it?” Her lips lift in a conniving smirk. “Kill me?”

The little fucking witch.

I lean closer until I breathe a tame flowery scent. Lilac or some apple shit that shouldn’t mean anything, but there’s something unique in it. Something that smells like her, and that’s worsening the state of my trousers. “You’d want that, wouldn’t you?”

Only I don’t think she actually wants to die. It’s probably due to the apathy that resides in her eyes. An apathy that completely disappeared when I refused to kill her.

Twice.

She can do anger and she can do it well. It’s only suffocated under the surface. I wonder what made her trap everything inside. Not that I care.

Her lips thin in a line. “Either leave or I’ll call the police.”

I reach out to the phone, but she hugs it to the visible line between her breasts.

It’s cute that she thinks the gesture would stop me.

I dive in. My fingers brush against the skin of her breasts. Fuck me. They’re softer than they look. I’m so tempted to grab a handful. See if they fit in my palms.

Nurse Betty gasps, letting the phone fall in my hand, and jumps back. She crosses her palms on her chest, cheeks turning a deep crimson. Not sure if it’s because of anger or something else.

“I...” She swallows and points a finger at me. “I’ll find a way to report you.”

“No, you won’t.” I twirl the phone between my fingers. “Here’s how it will go. I’ll rent the second storey for a while. You’re not to disturb me or utter a word about me. In exchange, I will pay you a few thousand in rent.”

She huffs, folding her arms. “What makes you think I won’t report you?”

“Because if you do... ” I advance until her sweet, head-turning scent is all I smell. My voice drops. “I’ll burn this whole place down.”

She flinches as if I slapped her. The tiny features contort into a mayhem of emotions; hatred, sadness, anger. Everything that’s able to purge that numbness right out of those huge green gates. Those eyes should be alive. It’s unfair that they would get anywhere near death.

Not that it should be any of my fucking business whether she lives or dies. It’s my job not to care.

“Y-you... wouldn’t,” she whispers, the sound haunted. Terrified.

“Try. Me.” I emphasise every word.

I didn’t miss the family pictures at the entrance and the huge architectural credit that the man in the old picture built this place. Judging by the age, her grandfather. Which means this gothic mansion has emotional value to her. It was a long shot that she cared about anything in her apathetic state, but good to know that there’s a weakness to explore.

“Or better yet,” I continue. “I may explode it.” I edge to murmur in her ear, “Boom.”

Explosions are Storm’s style, not mine. Doesn’t hurt to threaten with it.

She jerks away from me, posture tense. A series of French profanities spill from her mouth. Something about me being a sick bastard and blah fucking blah.

I cut her off with a finger to her lips. “What did I say about cursing in that weak arse French of yours, Nurse Betty?”

Before I can realise it, she does something I never thought a tiny thing like her would have the bollocks to do.

She bites my finger. Hard. Like a rabid dog planning to crack the bones. The green of her eyes is anything but dead. It’s firing up with simmering rage.

Fucking hell.

I push her away to save my bloody finger from being cut off. And there. Blood is already coating it.

“Stop calling me Nurse Betty!” She spits blood – my fucking blood – on the wooden floor. “My name is Eloise, not Nurse fucking Betty, you bastard!”

I stare between my assaulted finger and her bloodied mouth. My lips part, unable to believe she did this. Me, Crow, one of Team Zero’s notorious fucking killers, a founding assassin of The Pit, got bit by a French doll. “You little –”

“Pay me up front.” She cuts me off, widening her stance and tapping her foot on the floor.

“What?”

“I said to pay me the rent