Page 31 of Killer's Obsession
“What about the house?” I ask. “It’ll be ready Friday.”
“Working on the security system now,” he says, pushing his glasses up again. “By the time you move in, it’ll be as secure as Fort fucking Knox.”
“Good.” I stop pacing, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”
Zero nods, his eyes already back on his screens. “Just keep her safe, Killer. If Nikolai gets his hands on her again...” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to.
“Not gonna happen,” I say with absolute certainty. “I’ll die first.”
I turn to leave, my mind racing with everything I’ve learned. As I reach the door, Zero calls after me.
“Killer.”
I glance back. “Yeah?”
“Tell her the truth.” His expression is serious behind those thick glasses. “Before she finds out some other way.”
I don’t answer, just push through the door and let it close behind me. Zero’s words follow me up the stairs and all the way back to my room.
Tell her the truth.
I will. Just not yet. Not when she’s finally starting to smile again.
The next afternoon, I pull into the Saints Ink parking lot with Memphis clinging to my back.
I cut the engine and feel her exhale against my back.
“You good?” I ask, twisting to look at her over my shoulder.
She nods, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Nervous, but good.”
“You’ve got this.” I swing my leg over the bike and hold out my hand to help her off.
When she stands, I step back to take in the full effect of the outfit Pinky loaned her—tight black skinny jeans with the knees ripped out, a hot pink Saints Ink tank top that hugs her curves just right, and matching hot pink Converse shoes. Her long black hair falls in loose waves down her back, and she’s added just enough makeup to make those big green eyes pop.
Fuck me. She looks hot. Maybe bringing her here was a bad idea.
“What?” she asks, running a hand over her hair like she’s afraid she looks bad or something.
“You look good enough to eat,” I tell her honestly.
The blush that spreads across her cheeks is like a drug to me. I want more of it. Every day. For the rest of my fucking life.
“Stop,” she mumbles, a smile playing on her lips.
I reach out, tugging on a curled lock of her hair. “You ready for this?”
She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and nods. “I’m ready.”
I hold the door open, and as she walks past me into the shop, my eyes drop to her ass. Those jeans should be fucking illegal. My dick twitches behind my zipper in full agreement.
Inside, the shop is already popping. Rage is bent over a client in his chair, the buzz of his tattoo machine floating through the air. Jade is at the counter, looking bored as she flips through a flash book.
“‘Bout time you showed up,” she says without looking up. “I’ve already had three walk-ins and the phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
I clear my throat to grab her attention. “Got someone for you to meet.”
Jade finally looks up, her heavily lined eyes widening slightly when she spots Memphis beside me. She straightens, setting the flash book aside.
