Page 20 of Antihero
I’ve just reached the corner when a vice-like grip clamps onto my arm. I gasp, swinging around to come face-to-face with the man I last saw as he was jumping out of my window. Right after doing a few other things, including threatening to strangle me and also giving me an orgasm so hot it could incline me toforgivehim for threatening to strangle me…
To name just a few things he achieved in one evening.
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk. Pretending to search my memory, I ask, “John, wasn't it?”
His brow draws down. I wonder if he’s angry about our last parting, and having to run home in nothing but jeans in the freezing cold. I bite down the next jab as he drags me back towards the bar, away from my target. Which isn’t ideal.
I stare at Needler in the UV light of the bar as he pulls me in front of him. It turns his eyes black, and the light burns through the brown dye to turn his blond hair white.
He looks demonic. I like it.
Tilting my head, I shift onto my front foot, brushing my fingers over the front of his shirt. “Decided to join in on the nightlife, after all?” I should get one of these lights in my room. Thatwould be the easy part. Getting himbackto my room again might be the difficult part.
His hand snaps up, catching my fingers in a hard grip. I don’t let myself flinch. “I know what you’re doing here.”
“Oh?” I give a thoughtful frown, and he drops his grip. “WhatamI doing?”
“I’m not going to let you do it,” he assures me, leaning closer so that I can hear the growled words.
“Tristan…” I coo. “I much prefer that toJohn,you know. Anyway, you’re not one of these jealous types who doesn’t want me to go clubbing, are you?” I ask sweetly, swaying closer again, almost brushing him.
Most men would at least deign to let their eyes stray, down to my chest, at least, but his only narrow, rightfully suspicious. I’m more than brushing him now, pressing at the hips, lingering close to tilt my chin up at him. “I’m afraid I can’t be with you tonight, love. Got something on the agenda. I can stop by later, if you like?”
His head dips down. I feel heady. My target is probably watching, but the longing to feel his lips again is strong enough that I’m willing to explain it away. “Stop killing, and I’ll leave you alone,” he murmurs, an offering. A promise.
I step back, laughing. “Oh, love, you’ve got my desires alllll wrong.”
“You know what I do to killers. You’re no different.”
“Am I not?” I meet his black eyes. “Funny you should say that, because I’ve been wondering if you fuck all your victims. Did you give Strangler a taste, maybe? Or that old lady with the millionaire toy boy? You could’ve given them both a go. The detectives must’ve leftthatout of the news cycle.”
Now he looks angry. I hit a nerve. I smile wider.
“I don’t,” he snarls.
“Ah, so I’m not your next victim?”
“Oh, you are, Cutthroat.”
Cutthroat. A little thrill goes through me at the nickname. Now all I need is for him to put the wordmyin front of it and we’ll be golden. I’m under no illusions about what has been drawing us to each other all along. He, clearly, is in a bit of denial. He thinks he wanted the nice blushing girl—that woman is me, too. But she’d never have made it with him on her own. He needs both sides of the coin.
If anything, learning the truth has only made me want him more. “Mm, we’ll see.”
I see him about to reach and stop me from walking away, but the other thing I’ve been watching in my peripherals is here now, too. The security guard from the booth. I swing a glance over my shoulder, and see my target—his name is Frank, though that won’t matter for long—staring like he’s watching a different man play with his toy. In his mind, that is exactly what he’s watching.
“Is this man bothering you?” the security guard asks. He’s one of those guys who rolled the gene dice and ended up massively tall as well as massively broad, even managing to make Tristan look regular-sized.
“Only for now.” Glancing back at Tristan, I give a little wave. “Well, catch you around.” I flick my finger under his chin while the hulk looms beside me. “Don’t wait up.”
In the booth, I sit close by Frank, smiling and taking the red drink he offers me.
“Trouble?” he asks.
I’m about to be, I promise him in my mind, but smile. “Oh, just an ex.”
Tristan is still by the bar, though not being so obvious as to be looking this way. “Well, must be tough for a man to lose something so…” his eyes dart to my chest then back up.Jesus dude, I’m not even packing that much there.I pretend not to notice. “Beautiful.”
I giggle at the compliment. “Well, you know what journo’s can be like,” I say casually, knowing full well how a man like Frank, with a respectable wife back in Tregam’s fancy suburbs and aspirations of political power, might fear ending up in the news cycle. “He’s so dogged.”
