Page 10 of The King's Pawn

“Open the door or I’m breaking it in.”

I opened the door, found him with his arms braced on the doorframe, his handsome, snarly faceright there,and cocked a hip. Now I’d noticed how pretty his eyes were, it was impossiblenotto notice them. Long, soft black lashes, like my expensive paintbrushes. Bad men like him shouldn’t be allowed to have such gorgeous eyes. “You going to let me through or do I have solve a riddle?”

He blinked, realized he was holding me up, and stepped aside. “Your smart mouth is going to get you killed,” he grumbled as I sauntered by.

Ah, that was what he’d been looking at: my smart mouth.

A trickle of lust tingled down my spine. Strange, how Ilikedhow he’d been staring at my lips. Killian Donovan was not my type. Besides that weird month-long crush, after seeing him work out. Too muscular, too monosyllabic, too old. And then there was the fact he was straight. And uninterested. I’d have known if he was into guys. Or anything with a heartbeat. All the times he’d scooped me off the floor of some bar restroom with questionable clients who sold their company by the blow job, not once had he made a suggestive remark.

Maybe he wasn’t into sex.

Shame though. Underneath those basic black clothes was a body that wouldn’t quit. He’d fuck like an animal. And I wasn’t thinking about that. I’d gotten over my Killian Donovan phase. I did not need a deep dive back into that fantasy, especially while he was holding me captive.

“As much as I like beer for breakfast, did you bring any real food?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.

“We should move Reed,” Killian said, moving to the corpse. “It’ll be easier while he’s warm.”

Oh fucking joy.

Killian looked over. “You hold his legs.”

This was not how I’d planned to spend the first Saturday of the rest of my life.

“Grab his coat.”

I scooped up the dead guy’s big coat and handed it out as Killian lifted the body under the arms.

“It’s for you,” he said, sounding irritated. “It’s cold out.”

I shrugged it on, grabbed the dead guy’s limp legs, and helped carry the body to the door. “Won’t the ground be frozen?”

“There’s a spot out back, under a bunch of crates. Dirt will be softer there.”

He took all this in stride, as if it were just another day at the office. My father had learned early on that I’d rather throw paintat a canvas than kill people, and that was about the time he’d given up on being a father too. He’d have probably preferred he had a son like Killian. Someone strong, someone who knew how to dispose of a corpse, who could take over the family business. Not me, an art major who was good at spending money but not making it.

Outside, a dusting of snow fell. Killian handed me a shovel, and we got to digging while sharing a strange, contented silence. The sounds of the shovel cutting into dirt filled the quiet, and all right, maybe it was kinda okay, being next to him?

Was this fucking Stockholm syndrome? How quick did that shit kick in? It hadn’t even been a whole day since he’d had me on my knees and his gun in my mouth, and now I was out in the snow, digging a grave, as though we were friends.

Jesus, I needed to get my head on straight.

Killian worked for my father. Always had. Always would. His loyalty was with the family, and I already knew he believed me a risk to all that.

If he’d believed that though, he would have killed me. And he hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“Did you tell my father I’m gone?” I blew into my hands. I hadn’t been digging for a while, too fucking cold. Each of Killian’s shovels shifted twice as much dirt as mine anyway.

He peered up from the bottom of the hole. He wasn’t wearing a coat. Steam rose off his broad shoulders, and okay, maybe I’d been watching how all those muscles moved because the free porn was keeping me warm. “I told him,” he said flatly.

“How’d he take it?” I doubted my father would have shed a tear, but the little boy in me hoped he had, for reasons I didn’t fucking understand. I knew he didn’t care, but I’d always hoped one day he would wake up and love me.

Killian shoved the shovel in the dirt and then paused. “He…”

“He didn’t bat an eye, did he?”

“No.” He winced.

“Well, fuck.” I laughed. It was that or scream. “Is that hole deep enough, because I’m freezing my balls off.”