We eat in silence, but the whole damn time, that voice is screaming inside my ear, like a roaring of a beast.
And why?
Because of one sound. Because I heard one sound I heard when I was standing outside that bathroom door after the water started on her shower. And I know a moan like that when I hear one.
So this is me taming the beast down. This is me gripping my fork harder than I should, my jaw tight as I chew, doing everything I can to keep that animal chained inside - the animal that wants to yank her against me, and take those lips again.
The beast that wants to reach between her legs and feel how wet she is.
I want to take that small, innocent body and make it mine.
That’s what I’m fighting against in my head, and here I am cooped up with her.
“So are you like, a solo act?”
I look up from my pasta, eyeing her across the kitchen island. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, do you work alone?”
“No.”
She rolls her eyes. “What, are you in a gang or something?”
“Yes.”
She swallows, and even though I know she meant it as a joke, I don’t care.
I’m not joking.
“Is that why you- I mean back at the bar, is that-”
“Why I shot that guy?”
“There were-” she snaps her mouth shut.
“Speak.”
“There were two guys,” she says quietly.
I shake my head. “I only shot the one, but they shot the guy I was with first.”
Sierra frowns. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t know him, it’s fine.”
She looks at me but quickly glances down at her plate.
I know that look, especially from girls once they realize what I am. Once they realize that this isn’t an act - that I’m not playing the tough guy role. This is actually just who I am, and it’s why I’m good at what I do.
It’s why I can walk into the scene of a hatchet murder and not blink an eye as I wipe any evidence and torch the place. It’s why I can tie a body behind the wheel of a stolen car and push it off a bridge into the Boston harbor, and then go get a pint down at The Burren.
It’s why I can kill, and sleep like a baby every night.
I shut that part of me down that cares a long time ago, and that’s why I’m good at what I do.
She glances up at me, chewing her food.
“Fuck it.”
Her brows arch at my words, but then she gasps as I stand and slip my switchblade out of my back pocket. She chokes when I flick it open, trying to scramble away even though her ankle is still bound to the chair.
I stalk around the counter towards her and she screams, almost toppling over.
“No! Don’t-”
She goes quiet as I crouch down and slip the blade over the plastic zip-tie, cutting her loose. I stand, and she’s blinking at me, her brow furrowed curiously.
“You’re welcome.”
I pocket the knife and go to grab a beer from the fridge.
“Before you decide to make a run for it, again.”
I’ve already heard her chair scoot back behind me, and I hear her stop.
“I’m going to put the cards on the table.” I turn back with two beers and slide one across the table towards her.
“Because honestly, I’m getting fucking tired of that fucking look you give me every time I tie you up.”
“Then you could stop tying me-”
“Shut up and listen.”
She glares at me.
“Here’s the deal. You’re gonna want to stay here.”
She gives me a look.
“Oh, I know you don’t like me, sweetheart.”
I nod at the beer I’ve placed in front of her, and she looks at it skeptically.
“It’s not a trick, have a beer.”
She eyes me as she lifts it up and takes a sip.
“Look, I know you think I’m a monster,” I growl. “And you’re half right; I am not a nice man, Sierra. But, there are worse men than me out there, and guess what?”
She chews her lip. “What.”
“Those worse men saw you when you walked in on them shooting at me and my Russian contact and then running out. I got one of them, but the worse of the two is out there, telling his buddies with the Ukrainian crime syndicate every fucking detail of that pretty little face of yours he can remember. And if you think I’m telling you this to scare you,” my jaw tightens.
“You’re right, I am. If they don’t have a guy looking through your apartment right now, then the Ukrainian mob standards have really slipped.”
She swallows thickly, her face going white.
“I’m assuming you live alone?”
She makes a face. “Why would you assume that?”
I just grin at her.
“You are such an asshole.”
“No, I’m just very good at reading people.”