Page 183 of Ruthless Creatures
I watch her and her friend for over an hour. I can’t take my gaze off her. I know they’re talking about me, and that’s dangerous, too, but she’s quicksand, and I’m sinking fast.
I like the way she eats. I like the way she drinks her wine. I like the way she laughs with her friend, her sweet, easy smile. I like the flashes of darkness I see in her eyes, too, the way she stares out the window every once in a while, lost in a quiet little bubble of melancholy before she snaps out of it and smiles again.
She’s performing for her friend. Trying to look strong. But there are cracks in that façade I can see because I’m looking so closely. More than anything else, I want to see those cracks. I want to explore them.
I want—fucking stupidly—to make them go away.
This girl, my mark, this Natalie Peterson… she doesn’t deserve what I came here for. She’s not like the others I track down and take out. I already know she’s good. Whether or not she knows anything about Damon’s whereabouts or the money he stole, she’s got a soft heart and she deserves better than what I have to do to her.
My cell phone rings. I pick it up without saying hello because I never do. The voice speaking Russian in my ear says something I can’t pay attention to because I’m too busy staring at Natalie.
She’s staring back at me.
Someone just lit a fire under my chair.
And I shouldn’t fucking be calling her by her fucking name because this isn’t fucking personal…
Why is she standing up? Why is she walking over to me?
She holds my gaze as she moves closer. I couldn’t rip my eyes away from the sight of her if someone put a gun to my head and ordered me to. I tell Pavel I’ll call him back and disconnect.
“Hi. I’m Natalie. May I join you?”
She sits without waiting for an answer. When I say nothing and only stare at her, she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.
I want to kiss her. I want to pull her onto my lap, kiss her hard and deep, and slide my hand underneath her skirt and into her panties. I want to feel her wetness on my fingers, listen to her breathless moans as I stroke her clit.
“My girlfriend and I have had a little too much wine and we can’t safely drive home. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. We’d take a cab and pick up her car tomorrow. But she just told me that unless I leave here with you she’s spending the night at my house.
“Now, there’s a whole long story about why I don’t want that to happen, but I won’t bore you with the details. And before you ask, no, I don’t usually demand rides from total strangers. But I was told that you bought the place next door to me up on Steelhead, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and ask you for the favor of a ride home since it won’t be out of your way.”
I stare at her, needing to feel her in my arms.
Blushing, she adds sheepishly, “I swear this isn’t a pickup line. I really am only looking for a ride home. Also, um… welcome to town.”
So here’s the icing on this awful shitshow cake: she’s kind. She’snot afraid of me, she’s welcoming me to town, she’s gorgeous and down to earth and feisty, and I’m so fucked it’s not even funny.
I’m so fucked, I might as well go out to the parking lot right now and shoot myself in the face.
You have a job to do, Kazimir. Stop this before it’s too late.
Past clenched teeth, I say, “Sorry, princess. If you’re looking for a knight in shining armor, you’re looking in the wrong fucking place.”
Then I stand and walk away, knowing I have to do what I came here to do but hating myself for it.
I spend hours that night working out my frustration on the heavy bag.
It doesn’t help.
In the morning, I’m in bad shape. I didn’t get any rest. All I did was stare at the ceiling and think about Natalie. About that body, that sweetness, that sass, that smile. It feels like some awful cosmic joke is being played on me, like the universe decided it’s my turn to pay for all the terrible things I’ve done by putting an angel in front of me and seeing if I’ll be able to pull the trigger.
Only a few days ago, there would have been no question.
Now… my world isn’t the same place.
No wonder Damon fell for her. He’s a thieving rat, but he isn’t stupid.
I’m lying on the bed feeling sorry for myself when someone rings the doorbell. It’s a UPS driver, leaving a parcel on the porch. When he drives off in his truck, I open the door and take the package, expecting it to be for the Sullivans.
