Atlantic.
The man I stole a truckload of diapers from.
Shit.
4
Jules
When I merely sit and gape at him in horror, he says, “Swanky neighborhood you live in.”
His smile grows wider. Light from the theater marquee glints off his perfect white teeth. “I guess that old saying ‘crime doesn’t pay’ is wrong.”
The cab pulls away from the curb into traffic. I manage to detach my tongue from the roof of my mouth and sit up straight in my seat. Then I level him with a look that attempts withering disdain, but probably falls miles short of it considering how many of my body functions are on the verge of complete failure.
I say tartly, “You should know.”
“Ah. Sass.” He chuckles. “I wondered what you’d go with. Most people in your situation choose denial. Then the bargaining starts.” He pauses, smile fading. His voice drops an octave. “Then the tears.”
“You won’t get tears out of me. And if you think you intimidate me, think again.”
He arches his brows. “Have you had a recent head injury? Because that’s the only logical reason you wouldn’t be intimidated. I have to assume you know who I am, considering the dramatic exit you and your friends made from the restaurant.”
He waits, watching me with those laser beam eyes and that small, smug smile, radiating danger and masculinity in equal doses.
I hate him.
I’ve known men like him my entire life, and I hate them all.
Holding his gaze, I say, “I don’t have a head injury. And I know exactly who you are. And you should know that no matter what you do to me, how much you hurt me or how long you make it last, I won’t tell you anything.”
A strange look crosses his face. Disgust or disappointment, I can’t tell which. But then the cab goes over a bump in the road and the look disappears, as if it were never there in the first place.
“Are you so eager to meet your maker?” he murmurs, dark eyes glittering.
“I’m eager to get away from you,” I snap back. “So hurry up and shoot me or strangle me or whatever it is you’ve got in mind, so we can be done with it already.”
His strange look returns.
The driver has a strange look now, too, sending a startled glance to me in the back seat as I demand his other passenger kill me.
“Why the hostility?” Liam inquires, sounding as if he’s actually interested. “After all, I’m the victim here.”
A harsh laugh bursts from my chest. “Victim? You’re as much of a victim as I am an orangutan.”
He looks me up and down, his gaze razor sharp as it rakes over my body. His Irish brogue thick with sarcasm, he drawls, “Where could you be hiding your tail, I wonder?”
I stare at him in astonishment.
He’s toying with me. He’s laughing at me. He’s going to kill me, but has decided to have some fun with me first.
The nerve!
I say through clenched teeth, “Orangutans don’t have tails.”
“I thought all monkeys had tails.”
“They’re not monkeys. They’re apes.” Since I’ll be dead soon, I decide to add a little zinger for good measure. “Like you.”
“An ape? I’ll take it. I’ve been called much worse.”
He doesn’t look offended. On the contrary, he seems to be enjoying himself. He’s smiling again, the psychopath.
We ride in silence for a while, staring at each other, until I can’t stand it anymore. I demand, “At least tell me how you’re going to do it.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. He moistens his lips. “Do it?” he repeats, his tone gravelly. His gaze flashes back up to mine. Now his eyes are burning. “Do what?”
“Kill me.”
The taxi driver swerves then overcorrects, throwing me against the door. Liam remains undisturbed in his seat, staring at me with the scorching intensity of a thousand suns.
He says, “I’m curious—”
“You’d like to have a sexual encounter with another man? Good for you. More men should admit they’re heteroflexible. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
A muscle slides in his jaw. His gaze drops to my mouth again. His tone deadly soft, he says, “Oh, I’m crystal clear on my sexual preferences, little thief.”
His dark lashes lift, and now he’s incinerating me with his stare. “I’d give you a demonstration if I didn’t already know how much you’d love it.”
I refuse to break eye contact with this arrogant bastard, though I’m pretty sure I’m going to have PTSD if I somehow make it out of this cab alive.
Liam Black is the kind of violent jolt to the