Page 158 of Soul So Dark
That’s cute,I laugh to myself, but he’ll be a distant memory soon enough. I hope she’s ready for me to blow her world wide open.
Like I said, I’ve never been a stalker. Except for her. But that’s only part of the reason I’m here tonight. Surveillance is a close cousin to stalking, but no one likes to admit it. I’m also good at that, too. And, fortunately, this time I can see exactly when the action is heading my way.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and shift my gaze to the edge of the parking lot, where a guy and a girl linger for a moment before going their separate ways. I watched Bowen pull up to meet the girl out front before they went inside about an hour ago. Fortunately, they sat on the patio where I could keep an eye on them. But when Bowen actually spoke to Dallas, I about scrapped my plan right then and there. But I didn’t. At the very least, he needs to know his bullshit won't be tolerated.
As soon as he steps off the curb, my adrenaline starts pumping and my muscles twitch in anticipation. Zeroing in on my target, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done something like this or how many times I’ve been in the middle of a fire fight; as soon as I saw his face here where it didn’t belong, a panic set in that I couldn’t quell. I could be facing death, feeling its breath on my face, and I still wouldn’t be as torqued up as I am by the idea that he’s this close to her.
There’s a click as he approaches the driver’s side door and the lock disengages. He throws open the door and ducks behind the wheel, shutting it behind him. Then he starts the engine, oblivious to my presence.
After all, why should a predator check his back seat? And that’s his second mistake. His first was daring to ever put eyes on Dallas Lutz.
Before Bowen can grab for the seatbelt, I hook him around the neck, jerking him back against the headrest. He starts to grab for the steering wheel, but my other arm comes around and slams into his throat, stopping my KA-BAR just before the blade hits his jugular.
“Shhh…” I hiss, tapping the razor edge against his Adam’s apple.
He stills, realizing that it’s all happened too fast and he’s better off not struggling for the moment.
“If you want the truck, you should’ve just taken it,” Bowen growls through clenched teeth.
He tries to look over his shoulder, but I snap it forward again. “I don’t want your truck,” I murmur through my balaclava. “I’ve got my eye on something else.”
Slowly, I twist his head so we’re both staring straight at the patio of the bar, where Dallas is standing on the other side of the wrought iron barrier with one of her coworkers.
“The last time you got this close to her I broke your fucking face. You need a reminder?”
It takes him a whole three seconds to put the pieces together.
“The bodyguard,” he sneers. “You got Col waiting in the back?”
“You don’t worry about where Col is. You worry about whereIam. And if she so much as sees your face from across a parking lot, I’m opening you up.” I grab the top of his throat and jerk his head back with a snap. “And I’ll extend the courtesy to anyone else you sic on her,Bo.In fact, I’ll even make you a deal.”
“Fuck you,” he rasps through his constricted windpipe.
Slowly, I lower my knife and replace it on my belt, careful not to make any sudden movements. In an instant, I grab the front of Bowen’s shirt and jerk him to the side, swinging my other arm around to hoist the upper half of his body over the center console. As strong as he is, I’m stronger, and I’ve restrained far more people than he has. With his head hanging halfway into the back seat, I straddle the console, and by default, Bowen’s chest, rendering him immobile.
I reach back to retrieve my knife again. “You should be more careful who you mouth off to, Bo.”
He unleashes a torrent of grunts as he thrashes beneath me, but the close quarters guarantee that he remains stuck. It’s fortunate I’m not taller, or else this would’ve been a lot more complicated.
“You like games, Bo?” I ask, slipping the blade of my knife beneath his belt before giving it a jerk and slicing through the leather.
I tug open the front of his jeans and plunge my hand down his pants, grabbing his dick and jerking it out of with blatant disregard. I didn’t really plan on sitting on Bowen Garrison’s chest this evening with his dick in one hand and my knife in the other, but adapting’s always been a strength of mine.
“I like games,” I continue, ignoring his lack of response. “I know a really good one where I ask you a question and you tell me what I want to know, or I cut off your dick and feed it to a family of raccoons in that dumpster over there.”
“Fuck you!” he snarls from behind me as he tries in vain to gain the upper hand.
I let out an exasperated breath as I tense one hand and, with a flick of my wrist, slice a one-inch incision in the middle of his shaft. My knife’s sharp, and it’s about as deep as a paper cut, but it still makes Bowen scream in the most satisfying of ways.
“That was just for practice,” I glance around to make sure that no one’s walking by to hear all the racket he’s making.
“What the fuck do you want?” he bellows.
“Why are you here?” I deadpan as a thin ribbon of blood drips down his flesh and onto his jeans.
“On a date, youfuckingmoron.”
