of the boys in my class seemed to think hunting was a man’s sport.
As if. Not one of those assholes could hit a flank straight on, even if the damned buck politely waited for them to take the shot.
“How can I help you, little lady?”
Little lady. Laying the clunky weapon down on the counter, I swallow back the snarky response itching to be said. “Need to sell my crossbow.”
“Your crossbow? You know how to shoot it?”
“Would you like me to demonstrate?”
“Let me have a look, smartass.” With an unamused twitch of his eye, he shoves the cigar between his chubby lips and lifts the crossbow up, twisting and peering through the scope of it. “I’ll give you fifty.”
It takes a second to process what he’s just said, the shock constricting my throat. “Fifty?” I manage to squeak the words out. “Are you kidding me? I paid five hundred bucks for that thing!” Well, Russ did, but that’s not important.
There’s no way I can get by on fifty bucks. Not when I planned to skip town Friday, and it’s only Monday. The cash would fill my truck up, but it’d be gone by the end of the week.
“Seventy-five is the best I can do.”
“That’s not …. That’s not good enough.” The chime of the bell behind me goads me to work out a deal with this guy before he moves on to whoever just walked in.
“Look, there’s always Craigslist, kid.”
Even if I wanted to post the thing on Craigslist, and I don’t, I have neither a phone to post it, nor an account to sell, or accept payment. I’m basically a walking ghost, as far as the real world is concerned, and my only option at the moment is to try to coax this immovable smokestack to pay me at least a third of what it’s worth.
The creeping sensation of someone walking up on me has my hair standing on end, and I turn just enough to catch black in my periphery, before leaning in one more time. “I don’t have time to sell this on Craigslist.” Voice lowered, I do my best to keep the desperation from bleeding into my tone. Impossible, when I’m actually desperate. “I need more than seventy-five, okay? Please. Help a girl out?”
“Quit being a cheap bastard and give her two hundred for it.” That voice. That deep, articulate voice, with only a hint of southern drawl and just enough Valir accent to be annoyingly sexy, sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn to find the man from the club, Mr. Bergeron, standing behind me. Decked out in dark jeans, with a black button-down shirt and black shoes, he’s certainly more casual than the night before, but just as intimidating with that sinister glint in his eyes.
“Looks like someone left the gate to the underworld open again.”
“Funny you say so. I actually thought it was a bit ice-cold in here.” He fakes a shiver. “Giving me the frissons.”
Capping the sneer working its way over my lips, I twist back to the gun dealer, who looks about three shades of white, for some reason. Two crisp hundreds sit out on the counter, waiting on me to swipe them up.
“I’ll have you know, this is still robbery, but two hundred is better than the pittance you first offered up.”
Chubby’s lips tighten around the cigar, and he sniffs, gaze flicking toward the man behind me and back. As if I needed him shadowing me like a scene straight out of The Lion King.
Stuffing the cash in my pocket, I turn to leave, but pause alongside Bedroom Eyes as a thought comes to mind. “I sure hope you’re not here to pawn my knife. We have a meeting tomorrow, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. I’m merely here to buy a crossbow.” Nodding toward the man behind the counter, he slides a black leather bag from his shoulder, one I didn’t notice in all of his excessively black attire. “I’ll give you five hundred for it.”
Anger sizzles and pops in my blood like hot grease. “Are you shitting me? Why didn’t you just buy it off me?”
“I didn’t realize how badly I wanted it until just now. What do you care, catin? It’s off your hands.” The delicious masculine scent of his cologne rolls off his body like an intoxicating poison I want to lick from the air. “Don’t be greedy.”
Catin. That word again. I’m definitely going to have to look that one up. In Valir, this time.