Page 54 of Reckless: Collision

“Then humor me.” I turn my back on her—a calculated risk—and head toward the equipment shelf. I grab a scarf, holding it up.

“Kinky.”

“Turn around.”

“Are we fucking?” She actually listens, though her mouth keeps running. “Because I’m down for a hate fuck.”

“Shut up.” I tie the scarf over her eyes, trying to ignore how her citrus scent spikes with something that isn’t fear. “I’m going to teach you not to run. From any fight.”

“I prefer to stay alive.”

“That’s my point.”

“How do I stay alive if I don’t run from a fight I can’t win?”

“I’m going to teach you to win every fight.”

“Impossible.”

“Go back to that night on the roof.” I press her as I step away, studying her posture. “Image it. What do you see?”

“Ryker.” She groans.

“Focus.” The command slips out sharper than intended.

“I just landed on the roof. I have my gun out.”

“No more bedazzled guns.” Christ, I still can’t believe she did that. “It’ll give you away every time.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. Progress.

“I roll on the roof and hide behind an HVAC unit.”

“Good. Go on.”

“A bullet whizzes by me.”

“Because you bedazzled your gun.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Her head turns and tilts. Good—she’s fully in the memory now. “What do you see?”

“Exits.”

“Focus on what you can use as a weapon.” I move around her slowly. “Anything is a weapon if you try hard enough.”

“I don’t see anything.” The whine in her voice hits something primal in me—too close to an omega’s plea for comfort.

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.

“Focus,” I growl.

“There’s a piece of metal laying on the roof. It looks like it fell off a vent.” She shakes her head slightly.

“Good. Does it have a seam?”

“Yeah.”

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