Page 40 of When He Hunts

But he’d never quite been tempted the way he was with Luna.Just focus. Don’t say anything else to her. Don’t lose?—

“I’d like that,” Luna breathed. “But only if I get to go down on you.”

Yeah. They nearly died in a fiery wreck right then and there. The visual of Luna going down on him? Of her taking his dick into that hot mouth?

Fuck the lines. Fuck the boundaries. Fuck her.

His inner demon. Breaking free. “Turn on the radio, Luna.” A flat order.

“I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I’m not exactly stellar at the sexy talk.”

Oh, she was stellar. “Turn on the radio. And…don’t talk again.” His gaze cut to her. “Because if you say one more damn sexy thing to me, I will fuck you in the car. I don’t care if we are on the side of the interstate or at some shady-ass gas station, I will fuck you.” Was that enough of a monster thing to tell her? He thought so.

He also meant every word.

Her hand snaked out. Hit the radio.

The blasting music filled the car.

But the image of Luna, of her taking his dick into her mouth, of her sucking him, that image stayed in his head as the car ate up the miles.

Kurt had not checkedin with him.

Marcus stared out at the Atlanta skyline. So many lights. When he glanced down, he saw cars snaking back and forth on the street below.

Night had fallen. All day long, he’d waited for Kurt to check in with him. But there had been no call to tell him that Ronan Walker had been eliminated. No notice to tell him that the job was done.

The silence worried Marcus.

He didn’t like to worry.

He pulled out his phone, and, as if on cue, it vibrated in his hand. His gaze darted to the screen, and Marcus saw that he’d just been sent an image from Kurt. A smile began to play at his lips. Was Kurt sending him a pic as proof that the job had been done? If so, he couldn’t wait to see the image, though Kurt would know that Marcus liked a more substantial souvenir. Not just a photo.

But a pic of Ronan Walker’s dead body will be a phenomenal start.

He tapped the screen. The image appeared.

“What. The. Fuck?”

That wasn’t Ronan Walker on his screen. It was Kurt.

With blood all over his chest.

Kane Harte smiledas his gloved hand tossed the phone toward the FBI agent. “Let your boss know I just rattled our target’s cage.”

The young agent frowned at him. “I’m not sure you were supposed to do that.”

Kane grunted. Like he spent his time doing what he wassupposedto do. That would be one boring as hell way to live a life.

“Agent Stone didn’t say anything about you making contact with Marcus Aeros.”

“He didn’t? Odd. Or maybe he just figured you didn’t need to know every detail of his operational plans.” He ignored the burn in his shoulder. Another day, another bullet wound. At this point, if he wasn’t hurting, Kane wasn’t sure he was breathing. “Marcus needed to know that he was being hunted. Now he does.”You think you’re the one sending out the killers. Well, the killers are about to come for you.

The young agent bagged and tagged the phone.

Time to get moving.

Kane had places to be. Sociopaths to stop.

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