Sour Cherry(9)

“Hurts that much, huh?” he asked.

I righted myself, catching a brief glimpse of concern shadow his features. “Imagine having a skateboard slammed into your face.”

“Is that what happened?” He busied himself with wiping down the pan in his hand with a dishtowel. “Can only imagine what you did to the poor schmuck.”

I didn’t want to go into the specifics of my encounter with Blondie. Besides, nobody wanted to hear they had a hit out on their life. I’d save Cooper that paranoia and fear. I couldn’t explain my need to hide it from him except for the fact I was the one who’d been paid to kill him. I changed the subject. “You cook?”

Cooper froze, pan in one hand and cheese in another. “What’s so funny?”

“I just can’t imagine it is all.”

“Another bit of information you didn’t bother to learn during our acquaintance the other night.” He prepared breakfast as if he hadn’t just offended me. I deserved it in all honesty, but subtly labeling me as a whore didn’t sit well.

Most of the time, my hard outer shell repelled insults like that. This time, however, his words sank in deep. I couldn’t explain why. It was almost like I cared what he thought of me.

Cooper placed a finished omelet, complete with onions, peppers, mushrooms and all, in front of me.

I had half a mind to refuse it, but I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. I took an experimental bite. Despite our differences, his cooking was fantastic. I tried not to moan in pleasure. God only knew what my face looked like. “So what’s the plan?”

He took a bite of his own, chewing methodically, but refused to meet my gaze. “What plan?”

His question nearly made me choke on a piece of omelet. “The plan to keep us from dying of high-speed lead poisoning.”

“Us?” Cooper chuckled. “I have nothing to do with this. I gave you a place to crash for the night. That’s it.” Shoving the last of his omelet in his mouth, he turned and loaded his dishes into the sink. Not so much as a glance in my direction.

“You’re kicking me out?”





Chapter Four

So much for sanctuary.

I growled in frustration as I ripped the bandage off my nose. The pain had dulled, but it didn’t help my mood. Cooper was such an ass. What the hell did I see in him? In the safe house’s small bathroom, I changed into the clothes he’d purchased and used the hand soap to clean up. Not one for anything other than mascara, I washed my face, carefully avoiding the already-lightening bruises under my eyes.

The denim shorts and oversized skull T-shirt were actually comfortable. And tasteful. I slipped on a pair of gold sandals and pushed my hair back. The sandals made me smile. They fit perfectly. What can I say? I love shoes, booze, and boys with tattoos.

I actually looked human when I’d finished.

More pros seemed to be making their way into my list rather than cons. I hadn’t hooked up with Cooper for anything serious. In all honesty, I'd just needed to blow off some steam. But Cooper had given me a place to crash, food and clothes. Not to mention a serious outlet for my stress. His hardened exterior didn’t fit the bill.

Three rapid knocks echoed across the apartment.

The front door.

This was a safe house. Logic demanded that Cooper not reveal the location to anyone, but I didn’t know him very well, as he’d pointed out several times.

I turned to open the bathroom door when it jerked open on its own.

Cooper stood on the other side, his eyes somber. He shoved a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun into my hands. Black, sleek, and strong, the gun weighed me down. “Don’t leave this room. Don’t make any noise.”

“What's going on?” I gripped the barrel of the gun with one hand and automatically found the trigger with my index finger.

He didn’t answer and closed the door as another round of knocking filled the silence, a revolver in his left hand. His retreating footsteps kept in time with my pulse.

I’d never been a good shot, but I imagined he knew that considering he’d handed me a weapon that could blow a six-foot wide hole in a wall. I’d run from the club to avoid this type of conflict. Not be pinned down in a stranger’s bathroom with it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and sidestepped into the bathtub, drawing the shower curtain around me.

Muffled conversation made its way into the bathroom, followed by the sound of multiple sets of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Quick, sharp taps of some kind rang in my ears. Peeking around the shower curtain, I watched shadows cross the faint light seeping under the door.

“What’s this room?” a familiar voice asked.

Defeat nearly overwhelmed me.