Page 15 of Rugger: The Huntress

Beep!

Beep!

The honking of horns was meaningless during my pursuit of the dim blue lights of the building ahead of me. Traffic had stopped and rightfully so.

Pedestrians have the right of way.

I slid past the short line and toward the door ofSlope. I dug into my bag and retrieved the crisp hundreds. Folded against my palms, I slid them into the hand of the security guard dressed in a black three-piece suit.

“Good evening–Nathan.”

Though he’d attempted to clean up the mess he’d made of his past by changing his name and assuming a new identity, therewasn’t a detail about his life I hadn’t been able to dig up through a simple search in Royce’s system.

Crinkled brows led me to a smile. With a tilted head, I nodded toward the door. His eyes stalked my bag.

“Don’t let it be you, tonight, Nathan,” quietly, I chuckled.

Yet, there was absolutely nothing humorous about my claim. It was true. I knew it. And though Nathan didn’t know me, he knew it as well.

Wherever I went, so did my friends. And, tonight, we were drinking atSlope.

“Have a good night, Miss–”

“Miss,” I replied with a shake of the head. It was best he put an end to his suspicions. “Well, enough.”

I strolled into the dark, moody establishment. Bodies filled almost every inch of the space. The variety of men who frequented the bar was a single woman’s dream. Without a doubt, one of them would soothe the thud my center had developed. I wouldn’t rest until I was sweeping my pussy across a lucky man’s face or his bone was buried in my garden. Either would suffice.

The main bar stretched the length of the building. That was only one of them. There were two levels and four more bars. The intention was to get everyone inside plastered andSlopewas doing a damn good job keeping their promise.

My finger tapped against the treated wood. Discomfort clouded my thoughts, but didn’t tamper with my judgment. I slid a hand into the bag on my shoulder and removed the flat, black mirror. My survey was incomplete.

I opened the mirror and propped it up on the small patch of leather it was partially made of. The Kenzington Cosmetics gloss felt like butter on my lips. Though it quickly brought life to them, that was hardly its purpose. I roamed the crowd far beyond my reflection.

Two hundred and twelve. People surrounded me.

Easily.

Twelve minutes.To fully evacuate in the event of an emergency was cutting it close. Everyone was intoxicated.

There were more people than I had bullets in my possession. The custom strap of my leg holster only held four magazines with each magazine at their capacity of thirty rounds. With the seventeen rounds in the gun near my calf and the ten in the .22 inside my purse, I was short sixty-five.

I grew ill at the thought of my bullets being outnumbered. There wasn’t a time that should be the case. Never. Repulsed, I closed the mirror and dropped it into my bag. I didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, to retreat. I headed for the door. A trip to the car and a slightly bigger bag was necessary. They were both obtainable.

As the cool breeze trailed me out of the toasty bar and into the parking lot, comfort found me once more. I cut between the valet section of the pavement to shorten my journey. However, I didn’t make it very far after laying my eyes on the matte AMG GT 63. It reminded me of someone. Someone special.

Of him.

Teddy.

My feet would no longer move. Neither would anything around me. Everything halted as the corners of my lips curved into a smile. I dug around the purse in search of the bane of my existence. Hating modern cellular devices shouldn’t have felt so damn natural or easy, but it did. They were invasive in every way known to man.

Nevertheless, there were a few women who needed access to me at all hours of the day and I didn’t have the heart to make them worry. The untraceable line sufficed. But, if it were my choice, the flip phone or none at all would be enough.

My fingertips grazed the thick piece of matter. I maneuvered it out and into the air. I struggled to comprehend exactly what to do when the screen lit up in bright, vibrant hues. The swirly design on the screen nearly made me stuff it back in my purse, but I refrained. Instead, I tried tapping the screen and was immediately prompted to enter a code.

Two zeros. Four fives. I remembered the extra number Royce had programmed in my head against my will. Overwhelmed with the options that appeared on the screen, I closed my eyes briefly. The lump that swiftly formed in my throat was swallowed just as quickly.

When I reopened my eyes, I discovered the small gray camera next to a host of other applications. The car in front of me appeared on the screen.

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