Page 49 of Crave

And he recognizes me. His eyes flare wide and he begins to back up.

“I almost know who you are.” Leaping, I wrap my arms around his neck and bite the end of his thick nose until a piece shears off into my mouth.

Spitting it out, the blood pours before he screams and covers his face. “Now I’m sure.”

Tatiana is brilliant.

There’s an empty building so handy. It’s almost like she planned this.

I’ll have to remember not to piss her off.

Shoving the man through the unlocked door, I slam it shut behind me and kick him in the side of the knee.

“Where the fuck is Lara?” I shriek.

He stumbles before falling to the dusty floor. His hand reaches for his waistband, but I jump on him too quickly, driving my fist into the missing piece of his nose.

Tugging his hidden gun from his belt, I hold it idly on him while he cries into his fingers and pull out my phone.

“Jax? I need your help.” I text him the pin to my location as soon as he answers. “Hurry.” I hang up before he can reply.

What was this place? It looks like an old restaurant.

The big man lays his palm flat and starts to push himself up, but I drive my heel into the back of it hard enough that the bones crunch under my boot.

“Fuck,” he grunts, rolling away from me.

“I know you took her.” I land a solid kick under his chin, throwing his head back against a counter. “Where is she?” My fingers dig into the front of his shirt and I throw him again.

He claws at a drawer trying to get away. “You’ll never find her.” He spits at me, spraying my face.

My hand covers his, and I jerk the handle hard enough that a geyser of utensils falls over us, but the corner knocks him in the temple.

When he slumps to the floor, I don’t quite trust that he’s really unconscious.

I’ve faked it before.

A gust of hot air is followed by a slam, sJax is standing at my side.

He’s panting, and drops to grab his thighs as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, Alexei. I thought you’d be dead by now.” His tongue bar rattles against his teeth.

“No, but this guy will be.” Ripping a cord from a lamp, I wrap it around one of his limp wrists and tie it to one of the vertical burners.

Some kind of rotisserie thing. But the two bars make a perfect place to latch the clown to.

“Help me with lifting him,”I grunt, wrestling the dead weight.

My feet slip on the small metal dowels that fell out of the cabinet. “What are those?”

Jax bends over and picks up one of the thin utensils. “They look like shish kabob sticks.”

I stare at him blankly. “Explain? Is that English?”

Jax smiles and shakes his head. “No. Well, it is, but I don’t think it is? Shit. You put meat on these and roast them. Veggies too.” He holds one over a dead burner and pretends to turn it over. “See?”

All I see are thousands of thin stabby devices.

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