Page 39 of Poisoned Pawn
I turn to face him, barely having glanced inside the trunk.
Good god!
I’m almost certain my mouth is hanging open as I take him in. He’s still wearing the joggers from earlier but is now sporting a white t-shirt that is soaked through from the rain and stuck to every hard plane of his toned body. The dark ink covering his arm and that continues over his shoulder and down the top half of his torso is also visible. Dragging my eyes from his body, our eyes meet. His words might have been light, but the hard gleam in his eyes tells a different story.
“Somebody’s wet,” I say mockingly. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know what’s coming.
His lip curls up at the side as he strides toward me. “Oh, princess, that’s my line.” His eyes never leave mine, and when he’s standing right in front of me, I see confusion swirling in them.
“Well, I’m not even slightly wet,” I say, but it’s a god damn lie, and he knows it. I’m expecting some cocky comeback, but instead he turns away, sidestepping me to close the lid of the trunk.
My hand shoots out, stopping it from dropping closed, and I take a look at what it is he doesn’t want me to see.
The trunk is full of weapons, guns and knives, but there are also hand grenades along with several other items I don’t recognise.
The lid slams shut with a bang making me jump.
“What the hell are you doing with a trunk full of weapons? And grenades too,” I ask, but Carter moves in front of the trunk, blocking my view and access. This only strengthens my suspicions about who Carter is. He sure as hell ain’t no everyday mechanic. There are at least five trunks that I can see.
“Not for you to worry about, princess.”
There he goes again with the princess bullshit. Part of me wants to call him out on it given what happened the last time I did. But I ignore my body’s immediate response to the idea of his hands on me.
“Who the fuck are you, Carter? And don’t give me some shit about being a mechanic because I’d have to be the stupidest bitch on the planet to believe that.”
I think over all our conversations, wracking my brains to find something to explain who he is and why he was at my house that night. And then it hits me.
Hits me like a ten-ton truck.
I take a step back. Then another. I see it in his eyes. The moment he realises I’ve worked it out. He knows I’m going to run, and I know he’s going to chase me. And catch me.
It doesn’t stop me as I spin and bolt for the barn doors, bursting out into the pouring rain. I immediately head for the little dirt path I discovered earlier as I hear Carter yelling for me to stop.
“For fuck’s sake!” he curses as I hit the path and fly down it knowing he’s behind me.
Adrenalin pumps through my veins closely followed by arousal, and I curse my stupid body. I focus all my attention on pumping my legs as fast as I can, ignoring the branches slapping me in the face as I rush through the trees. My feet begin to slip as the trees overhead thin out and the ground beneath my feet turns muddy. The sound of rushing water I heard earlier becomes louder as the path up ahead widens and I spot a waterfall.
“Star, this is not a fucking game. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
If I wasn’t running, I’d scoff at the irony of that comment. My gut warns me to slow down, but screw that. I keep going, bursting into the clearing and coming to a grinding halt as the ground falls away in front of me. I teeter on the edge, earth and stones crumbling down the side as I look down into a deep pool of water below.
“F-f-fuck!” I gasp out, stumbling backward. Rustling behind me snaps me back into focus. The path leads left down a crude set of steps worn into the ground, and I turn that way. Just as my feet hit the final step, I feel Carter right behind me and push myself forward out of his reach. I don’t think about how utterly ridiculous it is to be running from him. If I’m right, which I’m a hundred percent sure I am, then I’m running from a man who hunts people and kills them for a living.
Damn! Why is the thought of that so fucking hot!
Never mind the fact there is nowhere for me to run to. And the very strong possibility he was hired to kill me. That thought alone is enough to dampen my desires.
My heart pumps inside my chest as rain pummels me from above, making it difficult to see ahead of me, and the whoosh of the waterfall fills my ears. I can just make out another small path leading into denser woodland, and I almost make it.
“Jesus fucking Christ, just stop!” Carter hollers in my ear as he crashes into me, lifting me off my feet and turning us so we fall into the long, wet grass to the side of the path.
I begin to struggle, fighting his hold, arms and legs flying in every direction as panic grips me.
“Let me go! Let me fucking go!” I slam my elbow backward, hitting him in the stomach. The hit is met with nothing more than a small oomph of expelled breath. “I know who you are. I know why you were at my house that night. Now let me fucking go.”
I don’t know how, but in the blink of an eye, Carter has me pinned beneath him, both my arms spread wide and an ironclad grip on each wrist as he straddles me.
I manage to knee him in the back before he hooks his feet over the tops of my legs, locking them in place. I raise my head from the ground and let out a piercing scream that echoes through the trees.