“Get to the library,” I said in a small voice, taking off my sunglasses to rub my eyes. “I realize it’s not something I should have difficulty with, so yeah. Let’s get it over with. Make fun of the spoiled, rich girl who doesn’t even know how to find a public library.”

But he did no such thing. Instead, I was suddenly crushed to his body, his arms tight around me, an armored palm pressing my face to his hard, cold throat.

Behind me, something clicked. Someone just took a photo.

Chapter 9

Phantom

My throwing knife hissed as I unsheathed it from my hip. The air sizzled when I let it fly, and if not for the trembling mess of a girl in my arms, I would have cheered when it struck right in the middle of the phone pointing at us.

Pity I broke it. It looked expensive, and I would have loved to sell it.

The woman who took the shot stared at her phone incredulously, not yet terrified. She was in shock. I got that a lot—something about human brains being unable to keep up with the speed of my movements.

“Drop it and go, or the next knife will go in your eye,” I said with a grin, my voice filled with laughter.

I wasn’treallygoing to do it, of course. It was a joke. But as she looked up and screamed, I could tell at once she had no sense of humor.

“God, you’re shrill,” I said with a grimace, bemoaning the fact I couldn’t say “fuck”.

See what you did, Clarissa Ashford? You made me take your God’s name in vain.

Barbara squirmed, trying to move. I pushed her closer, my fingers closing around her nape in a quelling gesture. We had a deal, and no matter how I hated being blackmailed, I would honor it. She didn’t want her mother to know she went out, ergo, there could be no pictures of her being out in the papers.

When the paparazzi stumbled away, still clutching her phone, I unsheathed my other knife and held the blade between two fingers.

“You have three seconds. Three… Two…”

She dropped the phone with a crunch and ran away, her sneakers pounding the pavement. I looked around slowly, checking every bush and fence to make sure no more vermin lurked around us. Barbara said something, her voice muffled, and I shushed her.

“Stop squirming. Be a good girl and let me do my job.”

She froze, and I hummed in appreciation. There. Now I could take my time, and even though I’d already scanned our surroundings twice and was ninety-nine per cent sure we were safe, one could never be too careful. Especially while holding such a warm, nice-smelling, pretty thing in one’s arms.

Fuck, she really smelled good. It was something citrusy and sophisticated, and I wanted to roll in that scent for hours. Preferably on a bed, though a nice, plushy carpet would do, too.

I almost groaned with frustration. There went my composure and all the promises I made to myself while beating my meat before we went out. I did it twice for good measure, because once wasn’t good enough.

As my jizz went down the drain of my bath, I even fooled myself into thinking my momentary lapse in judgment was all gone and forgotten. The image of my principal’s tits wasn’tseared into my brain, I told myself. I’d just beat it out of me. I could be professional.

Yeah. That was me, being professional, as I tried to press every inch of her body to me while being inconspicuous about it.

Fuck.I really had to let go now. And sort myself outfast, before this small snafu became a huge, stinking fuck-up.

“All clear,” I said, my voice sounding gritty. I forced my hands to let go of her. It felt like my own body fought me on this, something deep in my guts growling for me to keep her close.

She stumbled away, her face red, eyes shiny as she gave me a wide-eyed look before whipping around to the broken phone. A tremble went down her back when she saw it, and I clicked my tongue, looking around again before I pocketed the phone and put my throwing knife back in its sheath.

The coast was clearfor now, but if that paparazzi found us, others could as well.

“Come on. We have to go,” I said. “Put your sunglasses on.”

That finally made her move. She obeyed and turned to me, her mouth flattening into a tense, unhappy line. My hands itched to touch her again, and I resented my body for wanting something that clearly wasn’t good for it.

The girl was a shit-ton of issues held together by pink bubble wrap. Definitely not someone for me.

“We’ll take the bike, no discussion,” I said when I had her attention. “We need to move fast if you want to keep this a secret.”