Page 9 of Take

I FUCKIN’ KISSED HER. I hadn’t planned on it . . . well, not yet at least, but seeing her inhale my scent on my shirt . . . that snapped my control. It was fuckin’ hot as hell.

I heard two sets of footsteps start up the stairs and quickly shoved Max back against the wall. I put my finger to my lips then gestured for her to stay, and crept down a few steps to peer over the railing.

I glanced back at Max to make certain she was following my instructions, because I was fast realizing that underneath the submissive shell she hid behind, lay defiance. I hadn’t expected it until she shot me. Now that was one fuck of a surprise. I didn’t think she’d have the guts, but having watched her for the last six months between jobs, I knew she was capable of handling a weapon. I just didn’t expect her to use one on me.

She’d trembled when I kissed her and those lips, that mouth had been warm and pliable beneath mine. Jesus, it was better than I’d imagined and I imagine a fuck of a lot. The thing was this was now a job. She was a job. I didn’t want it to be. Fuck, it was the worst fucked-up job ever, but there was no way in hell any other fucker was getting near her.

It had to be me.

Jesus Christ, I wanted to fuck the girl I was hired to kill.

Yeah, well, I may not get the chance to do either if we didn’t get out of here. I threw my legs over the railing and leapt, landing hard on top of one guy and taking him down. The shooting pain in my thigh from the bullet wound made my vision go black for a second and I shook my head trying to clear it.

I heard movement in front of me and kicked out with my good leg and bashed the other guy in the chest, sending him rolling down the stairs like a beach ball that popped and deflated at the bottom as he lay on his stomach stunned for a second.

I flipped over, punched the guy in the throat and he dropped the gun to clutch at his neck with both hands, gasping for air. Still straddling him, I half-turned and threw my knife at the guy at the bottom of the stairs who was now on his feet, gun pointed at me. My knife embedded in his chest, but not fast enough as I heard the distinct click.

I rolled to the side as the bullet whizzed past my left ear. I yanked his buddy up in front of me as the gun continued to go off. The harsh impact of the bullets hitting the body caused it to jerk several times. Stupid bastard. I tossed the body forward when he was out of clips and it tumbled down the stairs and hit the asshole and the two of them landed in a heap.

When I reached them, the living guy was attempting to get free of his dead buddy as I stood over top. “Need some help?” I hauled the dead guy off him. Then before he had a chance to go for his knife in his boot, I landed a hard blow with my fist to his chest wound where my knife had been. “Who hired you?”

The guy coughed up blood and it splattered my chest in a fine mist. When he caught his breath, he lifted his head and met my eyes. “Fuck you.” Then he had the balls to spit in my face.

Too bad I had bigger ones.

I sliced my knife across his throat and watched as his narrowed eyes widened and he gurgled as blood sprayed from his neck. I had no time for bullshit and the asshole wasn’t going to tell me anything. Of course, that might have changed if I took him with us then tortured him for a while. But despite what I did for a living, torture wasn’t my thing and those who’d heard of me knew that.

No fucking around. Tell me what I want or die. Saved me a hell of a lot of wasted time ripping fingernails off and pulling teeth.

I heard her come up behind me, and then smelled the delicious scent of her coconut shampoo. Jesus, I didn’t like the fact I was thinking about kissing her again with two dead bodies at my feet and several more men who no doubt heard the gunshots and were going to be on us any moment.

I should be thinking about getting the fuck out of here. I may like to fuck women, but my job came first. Always. And this job was pretty damn important because Max had something I wanted. That was if I could keep her alive and out of the hands of the guy who was after her. If he got too close, I’d have no choice . . . I’d have to kill her.

That was why they picked me. I was the only Scar who’d kill her if need be. I wasn’t proud of it. Fuck, I never thought about the jobs I did and who I had to kill. They were a means to an end except my end never came. I couldn’t get out from under the storm that brewed inside me. Trapped in a vicious circle of my family’s haunting grief and my guilt eating away at my insides.

“Jasper?”

I stiffened then glanced at the girl I’d been stalking for months. At first, I played it off as lust, and being the sick bastard I was, I wanted to break the girl I met in the bathroom. But when I left to go on a job, she fucked with my mind and she was all I could think about. I couldn’t wait to get back and watch her sip her coffee out on the patio or see the sweat drip down her flushed cheeks as she practiced with those kickass circular blades. The worst was slipping in her bedroom at night and having to leave when she began to thrash around and moan.

Her hand touched my arm and I jerked my gaze to her. She was looking down at the bodies. Steady and calm as if she’d seen death regularly. I had the urge to throw her against the wall and kiss her again. I couldn’t help it. It turned me on. She turned me on and it was even worse now I’d tasted the rebellion inside her that was desperate to come out and play.

Jesus, I had to get my shit together. She needed to learn the rules and I had to start thinking of her as a job.

I linked my fingers with hers and then we ran into the kitchen and out the back door. As soon as we were a few feet from the house, I heard the shout above us from the second floor window. “Fuck.” I picked up the pace, my thigh burning as we weaved through the garden. “My bike’s hidden up ahead near the shed.”

Her hand suddenly slipped from mine and I thought she fell; instead, when I stopped and looked back, she was frantically digging in the fuckin’ dirt with her hands.

I froze.

For one second. One fuckin’ second it hit me and I froze, staring at her.

Digging.

Frantic.

On her knees.

The façade slipped and I stumbled back a step. My hand holding my knife trembled and my heart thumped erratically. The memory was raw and harsh like sandpaper rubbing at my mind grinding the image into me over and over again. It was me. It was me searching for Beth.

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