Page 28 of Golden Burn

Ford appears to my left as if he sprung from the earth, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Howdy folks.”

Jesus fucking christ!

My whole body jolts, the shock too quick for me to even scream. Ford’s smile only widens, showing off his perfectly white teeth.

“Dick,” I mutter, angry at the both of them for thinking it funny to keep me on edge.

Ford leans in front of me to speak to Odin. “Who invited her again?”

“I invited myself,” I announce, folding my arms across my chest like a toddler.

“I have some duct tape back in the house if you need,” he adds.

“Excuse me!”

“Enough. No more talking,” Odin snaps.

We both snap our heads in his direction. Odin stands and reaches for his gun, Ford mirroring him on my other side. I grab my steak knife from my pocket and hold it out, the moon’s light glinting off the blade.

Both men slowly turn their gazes toward me and my deadly weapon. Ford appears like he might burst out laughing. Odin rolls his eye, but keeps his thoughts to himself.

“Let’s go.” We fall into line behind him. “I think I see our little spy.”

11

Odin

‘Velvet Elvis’- Kacey Musgraves

Dr. Harriet Lewis is becoming a pain in my ass.

“Why aren’t you wearing a beanie?” Ford asks her.

Her teeth chatter as she answers, “It wasn’t appropriate for stalking someone in the middle of the night.”

Ford yanks the beanie off my head and passes it to Harriet. I run my hand over my hair and throw him daggers with my single eye. Harriet shoves it on her head after only hesitating for a second. I hear her sigh—clearly pleased with the warmth I infused into it—and the sound of her soft voice does something strange to me.

My jaw clenches in irritation. “Will you two cut it out?”

Harriet has the decency to appear scalded. Ford simply raises one of his brows and pushes on ahead of me. “Let’s be real. Odin wishes huntingand capturing was his territory, but all he knows is a bit of kickboxing and how to sign sale contracts.”

Harriet coughs, clearly dislodging a laugh that got stuck in her throat.

I want to correct him. If only for the fact that ‘a bit’ of kickboxing is a big fucking lie. He knows I’m as good in a ring as he is, if not better. He knows that it’s the only thing that kept me from losing my mind after Gregory Lombardo crushed it with his fist.

He’s clearly trying to wind me up with Harriet close by. So I shrug it off and let him take the lead.

The temperature is below freezing, the neverending night only getting darker. Harriet’s breaths bloom near my shoulder, her body close to mine. It’s difficult enough to concentrate when her safety is on my shoulders. It’s even harder when all I seem to be able to focus on is the fact that she smells like fresh laundry and the blueberry pancakes I used to eat as a child.

Ford signals his left hand to stay put. I stop and grab Harriet by the shoulders. She pauses her trek, her knees bent in a crouch.

Ford curves around the house toward where the cars are parked in the driveway. He pulls out his gun as he moves, his body gliding seamlessly across the slippery surface. It’s impressive how quickly he can switch from playful goof to deadly army veteran.

Harriet and I wait. Her lips have turned blue, her cheeks red from the cold. But she doesn’t appear uncomfortable, nor does she complain.

Her long lashes have collected droplets of snow. She gazes up at me every few seconds, waiting for my next command. I find myself looking away each time those blue eyes make contact with mine. It’s impossible not to think of Gregory when she’s so close, even if her gaze is innocent rather than deplorable.

A muffled yelp alerts us to the fact Ford has found his target.

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