Page 5 of Bad Guys Need Love Too

There was a pause before Lark asked, “How could you tell he had a nipple piercing?”

Her voice soundedfarfrom disgusted. If anything, she sounded interested. His gut tightened in response. He’d show her the 14-gauge barbell that pierced his left nipple anytime she wanted.

Any. Time.

“You couldn’t see it through his shirt?” Neal asked.

“Well, no. I was looking at his…you know what? That’s not the point. Point is, it’s rude to judge someone based on their…body art.”

Ren’s brain got stuck on the first part of her sentence. What had she been looking at?

He shook off the wayward thought. It didn’t matter what she’d been looking at. It didn’t matter what she thought of his tattoos or piercing. Because while Neal was a dirtbag who didn’t deserve her, at least he wasn’t dangerous.

Ren couldn’t say the same.

Which was why he was going to plant these cameras, then get out. And once he’d discovered whoever wanted her dead and got them to call off the hit—byanymeans necessary—she’d be able to go about her nice, normal, boring life and never see the likes of him again.

The pain that hit his chest at the thought of never seeing Lark up close again wassurelynot anything more than indigestion from the burrito he’d scarfed in the van before coming here.

That was his story and he was sticking to it.

Lark bit her lip to stifle a laugh as Bill made his way up the stairs sideways because he was too broad to fit in the narrow stairwell otherwise. Guess there weren’t too many men his size in the 1940s, because whoever built her house certainly hadn’t been thinking ofhimwhen they were sketching out the plans.

“Everything look OK?” she asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

He lifted his ball cap to run a hand through that unruly hair of his. It only took him a split second to replace the cap on his head, but Lark saw it happening like it was part of a slow-motion montage in a 90s rom com. The flex of muscles in his arm, the way his tattoos seemed to come alive with every movement, all that thick, soft-looking dark hair…Holy unnatural hotness, Batman!

“Everything looks perfect,” he said quietly, eyes locked on hers.

Her mouth dried up. Other parts of her? Not so much.

Having that kind of intensity focused on her was overwhelming. Sexy. Potentially addictive.

“Great. I’m sure you can see yourself out,” Neal said dryly.

Andsplatwent the little moment she was having with Bill.Once again, thanks, Neal!

Shehadto break up with him. Soon.

Bill’s hard gaze shifted to Neal, and the temperature in the room shot down twenty degrees. Neal swallowed hard, visibly. Lark didn’t have any sympathy for him. That’s what he got for being rude to a man who was only here doing his job, trying to help people. A man who could probably palm Neal’s skull like a basketball and crush it in one quick hand flex.

Which shouldnotbe a sexy thought. But…

It totally was.

She sighed. She was a sicko, wasn’t she? All the dark romance she’d been reading lately had given her unrealistic and warped ideas about men and sex. Because here was a nice man just trying to do his job, and she was objectifying thefuckout of him, getting turned on by the idea of him beating the stuffing out of her annoying soon-to-be-ex fiancé. If the situation was reversed, she’d be pissed.

“Thank you,” she told him, gesturing to the door. “I appreciate you checking that out for me.”

He nodded, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “My pleasure.”

Bill grabbed the door before she could open it for him, and one of his tattoos caught her eye. It was a hyper-realistic black-and-white image of a bird in flight. She knew she shouldn’t, knew it was rude and an invasion of his space, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching it. “That’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

His arm tensed beneath her touch. She glanced up, only then realizing how close they were. Lark took a big step back and let out a nervous laugh. “Are you a bird watcher or something?”

Bill’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Something like that,” he murmured.

He left without another word. It wasn’t until later, long after she’d sent Neal home (without breaking up with him because she’d been too busy reeling from her interaction with Bill), when she was in bed, scrolling through images on her phone, that she found a picture of the bird depicted in Bill’s gorgeous tattoo.

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