Page 7 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

This was a one-night stand.

Men didn’t chase women down just because they’d had three orgasms and she swallowed.

I was halfway to the front door when the security light flashed on, and I froze. A cat? A bird? Raccoons rarely ventured into the city.

A human.

And the faint metallic scraping suggested they were trying to pick the lock, but not very successfully. Spider would have had the door open already. Hmm. Should I wait here to surprise them? Or flank the asshole and inform them of the error of their ways?

The second option would be best. If they made it inside, Cole was more likely to wake up, and I’d have some very awkward questions to answer about why I was dressed and creeping around in the middle of the night.

I turned for the back door, only to stop short when I heard more scraping. There was more than one of these fuckers? Well, shit.

Me

Might be a situation.

Barbie

Situation?

Me

Burglars.

Barbie

Three laughing emojis wasn’t quite the response I’d been hoping for, but it was the one I’d expected.

Barbie

Need a hand?

Me

Stand by.

I took the Ruger out of my purse and screwed on the suppressor, then stowed the switchblade in my bra for easy access and toed off my stilettos. Whoever was outside seemed to have given up on the picks, and now the sound of splintering wood reached my ears.

I tucked myself into the shadows by the stairs and waited. Whoever was there, they wouldn’t be getting near Cole; I’d make sure of that.

There were three of them, two from the back, one from the front, but they didn’t use flashlights. What did they want? What was in here that was worth stealing? When Player One crossed in front of the window, the light from outside fell on his masked face, only his eyes visible. And I also saw the silhouette of a gun.

These men weren’t here to steal.

They were here to threaten at best, kill at worst.

And maybe…maybe they weren’t here for Cole at all.

How many people had seen me at the Black Diamond? I kept a low profile in my work, but I’d fucked with enoughpeople that I had enemies, and those enemies were exactly the type of people who would break into property carrying a suppressed pistol with the intention of putting a hole in my head.

At two o’clock in the morning, they thought I’d be asleep, or at the very least, distracted.

Guess again.

The sights on the Ruger were useless with the suppressor attached, but I’d been point shooting for long enough that I didn’t need them. I aimed on instinct. The gun jumped twice in my hand, and Player One crumpled, but not before he let out a garbled curse.

Nine shots left.

---