Page 13 of Wicked Duty
I lean down to whisper the truth in her ear. “If I were one of Roguilin’s men, you’d be dead.”
Her struggling ceases.
Lucy rounds on me the second I slacken my hold, absolutely seething. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I flex my injured appendage, which is still stinging and bleeding from her teeth. “Showing you how easy it would be for someone to abduct you. You had no idea I was even there.”
She blanches, fear flickering across her face between one blink and the next. “Oh, so you think it’s funny that you can just grab me whenever you want?”
Funny? Not the first word that comes to mind when describing touching Lucy Marlow. Not at all. Electrifying is more like it. Intense. Arousing. Oddly…enjoyable.
I’d be lying if I denied how much I relished yanking her off the street to teach her a lesson.
Entitled as she is, crazy hair and all, Lucy is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
She’s about five-nine or five-ten. Slender, with graceful proportions and lean, toned muscles. I found that out the moment she nailed me in the solar plexus with her elbow. High cheekbones. Full lips. Expressive dark brown eyes that stab me with every scowl.
She’s a model for a reason.
Too bad her personality could curdle milk.
Her infuriating attitude sends excessive amounts of irritation prickling behind my eyes. But I refuse to let her know she gets under my skin.
Something tells me the little witch would love that entirely too much.
I rake my gaze up and down her body. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t as fun for you as it was for me.”
“Ass.” She narrows her eyes and subjects me to an angry once-over.
Part of me wants to shake some sense into her. The other part wants to shove her up against the alley wall and kiss her into submission. Press my body against hers and dominate her.
None of those urges are appropriate sentiments. But if I’m being honest, the stench of garbage stops me from ravishing my client more than anything else.
I step closer, unsure of what to do with her. I just know I can’t let her out of my sight again.
Lucy scrambles back, whips out a can of pepper spray with lightning speed, and aims the nozzle at my face.
Raising my palms in surrender, I retreat to put some distance between us. “What exactly do you think you’re going to do with that?”
Her heated glare could probably do more damage than that pepper spray. “Empty the contents in your face and hope your fucking eyes burn for a week.”
“Ouch.” My mouth twitches. “Assuming you can aim as well as you curse.”
“Bite me.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
A subtle blush creeps into her cheeks, and a hint of an emotion I can’t put my finger on shines in her eyes. Fear again? Panic? Embarrassment? She rearranges her features into an arrogant mask before I can dissect it.
For a short eternity, we face off alone in this alleyway. Light dwindles overhead, but neither of us shows any sign of backing down.
Finally, I release a long exhale. “Put the pepper spray away.”
No response.
I’m not even a week into my newest assignment, and already Lucy’s every bit the brat I expected her to be. From the very start, she’s done nothing but try to piss me off and get under my skin.
Surely, she cares that one of the most dangerous men on the planet painted a target on her back.
