Page 18 of Obliterated
Ridiculously good-looking. Drop-my-pants-and-show-me-the-stars good-looking.
Not that I’d ever say that out loud.
But shit, I can’t look away. And the curve of his mouth says he knows it.
And as I stare into those piercing eyes again, endless, like the whole night sky, I take a deep breath, remembering exactly what my second plan is in case my medical indispensability fails.
Find the biggest brute. Smile. Flirt. Use them for protection.
It wouldn’t be the first time I played the part to stay alive. On the road, survival meant smiling at the guys staring too long, letting him think I wanted it. Protection, food, a bed for a while. Call it what you want.
I’m not weak—I’ve trained, kept myself strong—but when strength is the only currency, you learn to spend what you’ve got. And sometimes, what I’ve got… is this face.
And here, the biggest brute of all? That’s Max.
I wet my lips and don’t miss the way his eyes drop. I fight the twitch of a smile threatening to break loose.Play the part, Kieran. Don’t think, just do.
You already have his attention.
“Well, I guess I should thank you then.” I tap my stomach over the blue shirt, and his gaze tracks the movement. Heat spikes in my chest, dangerous and addictive. My brashness makes me turn inward again, retreating and finding the shadows. “I have to say that I like it. Can I do anything for you as a thank you?” My voice is steady, but my pulse hammers in my throat.
I’m talking to a Pit legend. A Watcher. A man with a body count and a reputation that already feels like a legacy carved in blood.
But he doesn’t waver. A drag of smoke, a slow exhale, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“Yeah,” he says, voice rough, low, dangerous. “There’s actually something I need.”
I lean in, already caught in it, breath shallow. “And what’s that?”
The corner of his mouth curls. Certain and final. “I need your help with an investigation, Kieran Freyr.”
Chapter five
Max
“Howthefuckdoyou know my name?” Kieran narrows his eyes as he tries to glare at me again. It’s almost cute.
I watch him through the curl of smoke drifting from my cigarette. Want to say I’m surprised by the fight in his tone, but I’m not. Not after watching him for weeks now. He’s far from the cowering fool I dragged off the docks.
I kinda like it, the fire in his eyes. It defies the blue of the ocean his eyes remind me of. The way it burns quickly, replacing that flicker of something else I just saw there. Not fear, like so manygive me. Not contempt either. No… it was something different. Something I will not acknowledge. Not yet.
A dark chuckle slips out of me. “Relax, Kieran. Me knowing your name is the least of your concerns.”
His jaw tightens. “My concern right now is that you broke into my room and know things about me you shouldn’t.”
“It’s not exactly breaking in if you don’t lock your balcony.”
“How do you know my name?” he repeats, sharper this time. “My first name, yeah, you could’ve heard that anywhere. But my last…” His hand lifts, fingers brushing the silver tag against his chest.
My gaze follows, caught for a beat. The tag gleams against the shirt I left him. Fits him better than I expected. He fills it out, lean muscle showing through, making him look older, steadier. He’s like I suspected, strong under the surface.
And I’m not the only one noticing. My eyes flick past him, catch the waitress at the far end of the bar, making her own orders since he’s tied up with me. She throws me the look everyone else does, scared and twitchy, ready to bolt. But when her gaze slides back to the mop of loose golden curls on his head and then his ass? Different. Assessing. Hungry.
Yeah. Definitely not the only one noticing.
His brows draw together as I take another drag, suspicion tugging at his features. “Did you…”
I tilt my head, exhale smoke slowly. “Did I what?”
