Primal Pursuit - Page 161

I’m not fucking inhuman.

Her mouth on me is always going to make me hard.

Maybe when she kills me, she can do it while sucking down my cock.

“What are we doing now? Why aren’t we murdering him?”

I head to the door leading to the rest of the main floor. Living room, kitchen, dining, library, study, another living room. She’s hot on my heels.

“Search and neutralize. Anyone else here dies, Rabbit. Then I need to retrieve something for Alexius. And Antonio? He lives for now because I have some questions for him. Anything more you’d like to know?”

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“Born this way. And I gave you a fucking gun. You just might put a bullet in me.”

She makes a small sound. “Sometimes, I think you have a death wish.”

“Just pragmatic.” I check my gun, even though I know it’s loaded and the safety’s off. “I do the shooting. You don’t have a silencer.” Or a knife. Because my gun is second to my knife, if possible.

Rabbit swallows.

“This is what I am, Rabbit. What I fucking live for. Ever play laser tag?” She nods. “Stay silent, stick with me, and pretend it’s that.”

We head off, and she’s a quick learner. No lights, light tread, and I pause at every door. I start to accept her as part of me, a team of two, in synch. I try not to think about how good it feels. She’s a natural. She stops when I do. Never bumps into me, never jumps, or speaks, or grabs.

I’m not taking my time. Taking it slow doesn’t help, but neither does rushing. There’s always a preternatural feel to a situation that dictates moves and pace, and this one needs to move at a beat, but not too fast or slow.

I make her stop at one door, the kitchen. There’s a creak, and every instinct comes alive.

No one speaks, and I wait. Listening.

Someone’s in there.

Question is, are they waiting, or just sitting in the dark? It sounds strange, but in places like this, jobs like this, guards and thugs will often wait in the darkness of a kitchen. But whether it’s because they heard something or grabbed a drink or snack is the name of the game.

One means they’re expecting me.

The other means not.

Both are dangerous.

I turn to her and shake my head and hope like fuck she gets it. I can’t speak to her. Even a whisper could carry.

Then I step in, waiting, searching.

At first, I don’t see him. But my eyes adjust fast. The man is big, standing in the shadows near the window that lets moonlight in. It catches on a glass as he lifts it to his lips. Gun on his hip, assault rifle leaning against the curtains. Bottle of booze on the kitchen counter.

I don’t make the mistake of assuming he’s drunk just because his glass is half full and the scent of rum permeates the air from his glass and open bottle. If he is drunk, that doesn’t mean he’ll be sloppy either.

I need to get across the floor, and the fall of the moonlight is in the most direct path. If I take it and I step into the light, I’m toast. And Rabbit…

It coils and pulls hard in my gut, and a savage, ragged blade of fear hits and slices deep.

Rabbit would be alone.

At his mercy.

Maybe even catch a stray bullet.