Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,34

backbone?”

“Better late than never,” she muttered. If she could go back in time, she’d have done so many things differently. She’d have taken Yonna and the girls when she’d escaped the first time. Or she’d have warned the Gravasian and not drugged him.

“This situation can still be salvaged.” He stalked around the room until he was standing directly behind her. It took everything inside her not to hunch her shoulders. He’d like that, fed off the fear of others.

“I don’t see how.” But like Helldrick, he liked to talk, craved being the center of attention. If she could keep him talking, she might learn something that could help.

“I’ve heard there’s a stranger lurking around the bar.” He ran a finger across her nape and down her back. Icy dread filled the pit of her stomach.

“There are always strangers.” Her hand fisted around the handle of the fish knife.

A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulders and squeezed. “But this one seems particularly interested in you.”

She’d known word would reach him and Helldrick. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

His breath was hot on her neck as he chuckled. “We both know you’re nothing to look at.”

She’d sucked in a breath. She’d heard a variation of this since she was a child from both the men in her life. They’d done their best to break her confidence. For a moment, it wavered. Had Kyler really slept with her to get information?

No, she wouldn’t believe that. The way he’d touched her, the urgency of his passion couldn’t be faked. “Your point?” She kept her tone even and her body as relaxed as possible. If he wasn’t getting a reaction from her, he’d tire of his game of intimidation and back off faster.

“I think he’s a spy for the Gravasians.”

“And not an assassin?”

He gave her a small shove when he released her. Expecting it, she caught herself before she hit the counter. “You don’t see their assassins. They’re ghosts. They kill and leave without a trace. This has to be a spy of some kind.”

“Can’t just be a stranger interested in me?”

“No.” The blunt response should hurt, but it didn’t. Maybe the two years away had done some good. Or maybe it was Kyler who’d made the difference, helped her see herself in a different light.

“What does he look like?” Balthazar demanded. “The stranger?”

How much should she tell him? She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve never gotten a really good look. He wears a hooded cloak most of the time.” He’d have that information. To give her hands something to do, she went back to work on the fish.

She caught the flash of metal, yanking her hand back just before a huge blade slammed into the counter, piercing the fish dead center. “Don’t fuck with me, little girl. Your life depends on your usefulness.”

Heart racing and hands shaking, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “That may be, but I’m already dead if the Gravasians are coming for you.” Maybe not smart to goad him, but she needed information.

“I’ll survive. I always do,” he assured her. “And you’re going to help me.”

Here it comes. “How?”

His smile was slow and cunning. “Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“No. No, I won’t drug him.”

“Etta. Etta. Etta.” He shook his head. “Why do you protest? We went through this the last time. You’ll fuss, but in the end, you’ll do as I ask to protect those brats, won’t you?”

Gods, she wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. She’d caved the last time. Why would he expect anything different this time? “Where are the girls?” They had to be her priority.

Balthazar’s smile was dazzling. It was no wonder the women flocked to him even knowing he was a mean bastard. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? And the girls are still here. For now. Will your friend be back tonight?”

She shrugged and answered honestly. “I have no idea.”

“Do you know his name?”

She tilted her chin up. “No.” That she wouldn’t give him. “He’s tall with dark hair and dark eyes. That’s as much as I know.” And that generic description could fit just about anyone. “Like I said, he wears a hood. Ask anyone.”

“Good girl.”

She wanted to smack his condescending face but refrained.

He reached into his pocket, drew out a vial, and set it on the counter. “Put this in his food.”

Relief filled her. “He doesn’t eat here.” Probably because he didn’t trust it not to be drugged. Was it just here or was he like that everywhere? Knowing Kyler, it