Page 102 of Dance With A Devil
“It means… if they stand against us, they die.”
I expect a protest. Some trace of morality.
But what I get instead?
A grin.
“I’m down,” she says, voice like silk over a loaded gun. “I want what you want.” She wraps herself around my neck, mouth brushing mine. I move to kiss her, slow, but she has other plans.
I grab the back of her head and kiss her like I’m trying to brand her with my mouth. It’s sloppy. It’s possessive. It’s mine.
“You taste like trouble,” I growl.
She pulls away, panting. “No matter how much I want to stay and ride you till the sun sets, we’ve got shit to do.” She slaps my chest and walks off, hips swinging like a fucking metronome counting down to my undoing.
“She’s gonna kill me,” I mutter, right as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
No Caller ID.
The heat drains from my chest.
I swipe to answer. “Who the fuck is this?”
The voice on the other end is twisted static. A man. Too calm. Too smug.
“Why so serious?” he croons. “Finally, we get to chat.”
My blood goes ice-cold. “Last chance, who the fuck are you?”
He laughs. High-pitched. Sharp enough to split eardrums. “Let’s just say I’m a fan. And your little slut? She’s quite the treat. Bet she tastes like sin.”
I see red.
I flick my eyes to Dash, who just entered the room. I signal him over and slap the call on speaker.
“He’s baiting me,” I whisper. Dash nods, already hacking into his phone.
“Keep him talking.”
I oblige.
“Come out and play, coward. I’ll carve your name into the concrete myself.”
The man’s voice lowers.
“Predictable, Wyck. Bet Dash is trying to trace me now, isn’t he? Cute effort. But useless.”
Silence.
Then, “I’m always two steps ahead. You won’t find me… until I want you to.”
Click.
“FUCK!”
Dash shakes his head. “No trace. This guy’s not a rookie.”
He storms off, already punching in codes. I don’t follow, I have someone to check on.
