I freeze, thinking, ‘oh, fuck’。 I don’t think she’s ever asked me for something before—not like this. My chest clenches and I swallow through the sudden assault of hot, possessive want swelling in my chest. She has no idea that I’d probably go out there and try to lasso the goddamn moon if she asked me to with those big eyes and plaintive voice. “You bet,” is what I say, thumbing her chin.
Killian’s just ducking his head beneath the spray when I open the glass door to his shower. Yet again, I get a look at the cut on his chest. It’s all scabbed over and irritated, probably full of bacteria and god only knows what else, and the funny thing is, it doesn’t even look good. It’s a fucking horrid version of a ‘S’， all blocky and jagged.
So why does it make my jaw tight to know he and Rath have one and I don’t?
Whatever.
Some of us have game without the risk of tetanus.
“Easy,” I tell her, helping her over the lip, but Killian instantly enveloped her in his arms, dragging her beneath the water. “I’m going to go find Rath and something to eat. Want something?”
“Something carby.” She tips her head back, eyes sliding closed as Killian guides her head beneath the spray. “Maybe the pasta from last night?”
“Whatever you want.” I close them up in the steam, padding out into the bedroom to find my boxer briefs. Walking out into the hall, I’m thinking maybe I’ll return in time to get in on some of that shower action. Lather her up. Clean my cum out of her ass and then replace it as Killer feeds her his cock.
I only get to the bottom of the staircase, lost in this fog of erotic possibilities, before I hear it.
The click of cocked gun snaps me to attention.
Freezing, I take in a litany of sudden details. The thick scent of cologne. The buzz in the air. The eerie silence of the darkness, and what I’m just now realizing, is a cold, sticky substance beneath my feet.
Mostly, I notice the gun pressing against my head, just behind my ear. “Move, scream, say a word,” a low voice warns, “and I blow your brains out. Then, I go for her.” The nose of the gun presses harder. “Got it?”
Stiffly, I give a single, slow nod, but inwardly I’m wondering whose blood I walked into. I slide my eyes to the side, trying to get a look at the intruder, but he’s nothing but a dark, tall shadow. “I have money,” I say, raising my palms. “Just name your price.”
He shoves the barrel of the gun into my skull. “Arms back. Now.” Through the hardness of the demand, I hear a hint of something strained and annoyed, and I’m pretty sure I know why.
Slowly, I do as I’m told, putting my hands behind my back. I wait until he lowers the gun to grab my wrists. Something plastic and hard—a zip tie—looping around them, before making my move.
I spin and slam my elbow into his chin before tackling him to the ground. We land with a crash, in a tangled whirl of flailing fists and gnashed teeth.
“Then, I go for her.”
She’s with Killer.
I’d like to see this piece of shit try.
It’s why I know he won’t shoot me. It’d alert them, and he’s banking on the element of surprise, and he needs it. It makes it easier to wrestle him, slamming his head against the floor. No doubt Rath got his own shots in, all the more obvious from the strangled sound the intruder makes when I plant my knee into his side. But there’s blood on the floor, and Rath isn’t fucking here. I get the upper hand quickly and then go for the gun, lunging at his wrist.
I’m actually feeling really good about it.
Right up until a second set of arms clamps around my neck, jerking me back. Maybe it’s not smart, but all I can see is the night in that alley, getting choked out by Ugly Nick as he raised a gun and shot my brother in the gut.
I kick out, catching the first guy’s temple with my heel, and then rear back slamming my head into the other guy’s face, only—
Only the responding yelp doesn’t belong to a man at all.
Come to think of it, her grip on my neck isn’t exactly insurmountable either. It’s laughably simple to pry her forearm away—to clamp my fingers around her delicate wrist and snap.
“Ah!” Her scream is stifled into a low, pained growl, but the second I turn on her, fist snatching a thick fistful of her hair, a wild shock of heat explodes up my torso. I lose control of my grip, my muscles, my thoughts, and I tumble back, head slamming into the banister as I crash to the floor.
Vision cloudy, I look up at the woman, trying to blink away the stars. “I don’t know who you are, bitch,” I push up onto my palms, swaying, “but you’re fucking with the wrong people.”