the shadows, knew I was being watched by the way the little hairs on my neck stood on end.
I never saw anyone, but deep down I knew it was him. The way he’d looked at me after his fight…like a lion who’d picked out the one gnu out of a herd of thousands that appeared weak.
It was close to midnight on my fourth day, when the atmosphere in the bar shifted, turning frightful. My eyes searched the room until the source of the unease came into focus. Him. Killer.
Tonight, he wasn’t shirtless, a tight black t-shirt covered many of his scars and tattoos. It didn’t make him appear less imposing, though. His dark eyes settled on me and didn’t move on.
My hands began to tremble, the ice cubes in the glass beginning to clank together. I quickly set it down, worried I’d drop it otherwise, and looked down, away from the man who terrified and fascinated me equally.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him approach and the people in his way stepped aside almost reverently. Then he towered right in front of the bar, waiting for me to look up. Bracing myself, I lifted my face with a shaky smile “What can I get you?” My voice was too hushed, underplayed with an anxious tremor.
Killer took in my flushed face. It was a struggle to hold his penetrating stare. “Whiskey. Neat.”
A small chill passed my body at his rough, deep voice. Even that oozed danger.
I nodded hastily and reached for a bottle of whiskey.
“I hear you’ve been asking about me.”
My fingers clenched around the bottle. I set it down on the counter and busied myself pouring it into a glass, considering what to say. “I did,” I got out and shoved the glass over to him. He ignored it, his entire focus on me.
“Why?”
The word was demand, not question.
I looked up and was immediately captured by his intense gaze. Everything about him screamed danger.
Lie. Make something up. Anything.
I opened my mouth but he braced his arms on the counter between us, bringing us closer. The muscles in his strong arms flexed and beneath the ink on his forearms, countless scars glared at me, telling his story of death and brutality. His musky scent hit my nose. “The fucking truth.”
It was too much. The situation. Him. Being away from home and my bodyguards for the first time in many years. But especially him.
I shook my head. “Nothing.” I stumbled back and hurried through the backdoor toward the staff room, leaving the bar unattended. Only one of the bouncers sat at the worn-down table inside, having a smoke, despite the non-smoking rule.
He raised one brow, but a moment later, his expression flashed with anxiety. I knew why without turning around.
“Out,” Killer growled and the bouncer didn’t hesitate. He practically fled the room, leaving me alone with Killer. What was I supposed to do now?
The door clicked and then the lock turned.
Running was no longer an option.
My heart hammered wildly as I faced Killer. He simply stood there, his expression hard. “You need something from me,” he muttered.
I shook my head mutely. He took a step closer and I backed away. Something flashed in his eyes, as if I’d awoken the hunter, and he stalked toward me.
I stumbled into the wall, terrified of him. He stopped right in front of me, so close, that if he took a deep breath his chest may have brushed mine. “Tell me.”
I had to crane my head all the way back to meet his gaze. It had been years since I’d been this close to a man and that hadn’t been by my choice either. I swallowed, tipping up my chin to feign bravado. “I told you it’s no—”
He reached out and tugged at one of my locks, his knuckles brushing my cheek in the process. I sucked in a shocked breath. His closeness was overwhelming in so many ways, my breathing came in sharp exhales.
“Tell me what you need, Little One.” The name sounded like an insult coming from his harsh lips. His eyes mocked me.
And I lost it. I’d been scared out of my mind before, had watched my father getting shot in front of me, had been given away like a piece of furniture. I had survived and wouldn’t let anyone treat me like a stupid child ever again. “I need you to kill someone for me,” I blurted.
CHAPTER FOUR
Killer
When I asked her what she needed from me, that was the last