Page 20 of Queen of Blades

Somehotelshadphonesin the bathroom. Not this one. Sitting on the toilet doing her business, Harper cursed her luck. After she finished, she stood at the mirror with the water running and stared at her reflection.

Her hair was matted and sticking out everywhere like a rat’s nest. Twisting her head slightly, she got a better look. Along her neck and shoulders, Paul had left a series of small hickeys and bite marks.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and focused on washing her hands. It made little sense. Why would he leave so much of himself behind if his intention was to murder her? Between the marks and the DNA inside her, since they hadn’t used a condom, her body would point directly at him.

He’d made a thousand mistakes. Something a man of his ilk wouldn’t do. It was completely out of character. What was his deal?

Eyeing the closed door, she pursed her lips and considered the man on the other side of it. This was worse than anything Dwight would do. Paul wasn’t that sloppy. As far as she knew, he’d yet to be caught for anything he’d done. According to her brother, who practically idolized while simultaneously hating Paul, he was immensely effective at solving his family’s problems.

After a subtle knock on the door, he spoke. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah,” she said as she stuffed one foot and then the other into her panties. “Getting dressed.”

“You have two more minutes before I come in.”

Groaning, she shrugged on his shirt from the night before and buttoned it. After she twisted the knob, she yanked the door open to find him leaning against the edge of the closet. One of his legs was bent, pressed against the wall. His arms were folded, a gun resting on his forearm.

“Morning.” He smirked, using the weapon to wave at her.

“Dick,” she muttered.

As he pushed off and stood upright, his gaze swept over her gratuitously and darkened slightly. Scrubbing the fresh stubble on his chin, he lifted his brows in appreciation.

“Nice shirt,” he said.

She slapped her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “None of this makes sense.”

He quirked a brow and gestured with the gun. “Sit. You can tell me all about it over breakfast.”

This was absolutely absurd. Why the hell was he worried about breakfast if he intended to kill her?

“What are you even doing?” she asked as she turned and headed deeper into the room. “You have left so much evidence on me. Are you trying to get caught?”

Ignoring her, he followed, dropped onto the bed, and picked up the phone. “Bacon and omelets sound good?”

“Fine.” She flung her arms out, exasperated, and fell into the desk chair facing him. “What did I do to piss your family off?”

Holding up a finger, he dialed a number.

A maroon smear stained his chest, and she followed the trail to his side. It wasn’t gaping, and most likely had stopped bleeding, but there was a gash there. One she’d caused. She probably should feel guilty about it, but he was hired to murder her, so… she’d call it even.

Glancing around, she searched for her knife. Where had he put it?

As she scanned the room for her weapon, Paul ordered breakfast as though they were on vacation. All of this was beyond surreal. She’d barely processed that someone wanted her dead, let alone that Paul was the one who took the contract. Everything was upside down.

“It isn’t my family,” Paul finally answered as he returned the receiver to the cradle.

“Then who?” Harper demanded.

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

Gaping at him, she blinked, completely baffled. “You accepted a contract from an anonymous source?”

His head bopped side to side as he considered her words. “Sort of.”

“Oh my God. My head hurts.” She leaned forward, rested her arms on her knees, and cradled her head in her palm.

“It’s an open bounty. First one to get the job done cashes in,” he explained.

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