Page 79 of Shark Bait

I chuckle. “You have the best dark-humor lines.”

“I’m happy to entertain. Have we reached an agreement about my mission now?”

I look up. “No.”

He pecks my lips. “Are we good?”

I pout, tears clouding my vision.Yes, we’re good.Shark and I have always been good. It’s the world that’s bad.

TWENTY-SEVEN

HITMAN’S SECRET DUNGEON

TROY

Shark walks around the bedroom, collecting his stashed weapons like a treasure hunter inside a hidden pharaoh’s tomb. I’ve lived in this room for over two weeks and had no idea he’d made it into a fort.

“You hid a gun in your old sock under the bed?” I say in disbelief when Shark makes a disgusted face while sliding off the dusty sock.

With a shrug, he tosses the sock into the garbage pail in the bathroom, wipes off the pistol, and goes out into the hallway. Curious, I follow him to the pantry. Shark bends and opens a hatch on the floor I never knew existed. A secret entrance. He descends the shaky drop-down steps, and I follow after him, slowly and carefully since there’s no rail.

The steps wobble, and I stop, terrified I’ll fall.

A light flickers in the basement room. “No girls in my cave,” Shark says from somewhere down there.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going down these steps.” I dare one more step, then sit down and bend forward a little to peer into the underground room.

I can’t see shit from this position. Damn it. Curiosity better not kill this cat is all I’m thinking as I make my way down thestairs by sliding on my butt. After the last step, I get up and walk into a…a weapon depository. Every inch of the two walls is covered in weapons. A shower and a closet are straight ahead.

“Try not to contaminate too much ground,” Shark says as he removes his tennis shoes. “In case this is ever discovered, I don’t want your DNA in here.”

He explained the importance of hygiene to me, namely that he leaves no evidence for the forensic discovery systems that have grown in complexity with the AI-assisted crime scene systems. In other words, Shark’s protecting me from being identified as a criminal on the slight chance that the weapons he’s taking with him are recovered.

I respect that. I love how he’s always thinking about my well-being.

I pause at the island in the middle of the room, where Shark tosses a black backpack and a duffel. He sweeps me up and deposits me to sit on the island, then steps between my legs. He twists my ponytail in his fist and tugs my head back, leaving my neck exposed.

Teeth close over my jugular, and then he kisses my neck and steps away.

“What was that for?” I ask.

“I’m feeling feral, is all,” he says.

“Your feral is sexy. Come back here.” I kick my feet and spread my legs wider.

Shark chuckles and reaches for the hem of his shirt, then removes it. His pants come off next, and he gets under the shower, where he starts to shave.

“Bummer,” I say, and he smiles while water pounds his perfect body.

“You like watching me,” he says.

“That I do.”

“Five minutes, Troy, but then you have to go so I can get ready.”

“Get ready while I’m here.”

“Can’t. You’re distracting.”

---