Page 2 of Ruthless Possession
A short bark of laughter escapes me. Not far from where she would’ve ended up if she’d stayed in the life she was born to. Only, she’d have been dealing with human animals instead.
Danelli’s dark eyebrows lower. “You want her dead, Boss?”
I rest the tumbler against my lips, staring down at my desktop. Elimination of this final loose end would be the quickest and easiest option, but something stays my order.
I frown, not understanding my own motives.
Maybe I want to meet her before I have her killed.
Maybe I want to see if the innocence in her eyes is real. For her sake, I hope it’s not.
Innocence brings out the worst in me.
“Not yet,” I say slowly. Carefully. “Grab her and bring her to me. Do it before sundown tomorrow.”
* * *
Bree
Clubs are not my scene,but it seems like Shelley’s not going to take no for an answer.
“Bree, youhaveto come out with us tonight. It’s your birthday. You’ve got no choice, girl!”
Shelley waggles her fingers in my face as we wait for Dave to lock up. The evening staff have already clocked in, but they’ll go in and out the back entrance. The front is locked up tight every afternoon at four, when the rescue shelter closes to the public.
Which means I don’t have any reason not to take up Shelley’s invitation to celebrate my quarter century with espresso martinis.
“We can really dress up for once,” she says, nudging Dave as he joins us on the sidewalk. “You coming too? Bree’s twenty-five today. Tell her. She can’t just go home and sit on the couch with a book like she always does.”
Dave spears me with a look that seems unusually serious for a guy who values laid-back quiet time above all else. “You should do something other than work all the time, Bree. It isn’t healthy.”
“Ah…” I blink at the unexpected comment from someone I thought was just as introverted as me. “Don't you hate clubs and the night scene as much as I do? Traitor!”
He grins at me, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll go if you do.”
I release a sigh, but I’ve already decided. What the hell, why not? The incident with the spiked drink was three years ago now.
Besides, there's something in Dave's expression when he stares at me. Something new that gives me a gentle squiggle in my belly and makes me want to explore it further. “Okay. I guess you’re both right. It’ll be good for me to get out for once. I mean, twenty-five is pretty momentous, isn’t it? All downhill from here, or so I've heard.”
We’re all still laughing when a sleek black car mounts the curb and pulls to a stop beside us.
“What the…” Dave drags both me and Shelley back out of its path, as two of the doors pop open and guys who look like twin gangsters jump out.
They’re both wearing suits and have dark sunglasses jammed on their faces, despite the fact that the November weather is overcast and ready to drizzle.
But it isn’t the redundant shades that capture and hold my attention.
It’s the big black guns in their hands.
My mouth drops open, and my heart shoots up into my throat.
“Holy shit.” The expletive leaves my lips involuntarily, and I stumble into Shelley, who clutches at my arm.
She's obviously just as terrified as me.
Is this some kind of attack on the animal shelter?
They don’t look like activists. They look like caricatures of criminals. Really freaking scary ones.