Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
So he’d… taken care of himself after she’d left.
With a curse, she rubbed her eyes, then put her palms to her windblown cheeks. Now was not the time to be thinking about that stuff.
“Good thing I don’t care about breaking rules.”
Lyric jumped, and turned to him. He was leaning back against the door, taking a drag on his cigarette.
“I’m sorry?” she mumbled.
“No smoking in the building.” He exhaled a steady stream. “But I don’t think anybody’s going to be worried about a little nicotine cloud smoke in the air tonight. Do you?”
“No,” she replied grimly. “I don’t.”
Unable to stay still, she paced around, going from the refrigerator to the bed and back. When she started to feel too hot, she undid her parka.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t need to know what you’re involved in.”
Stopping, she glanced over. He had the pack of Camels in his palm along with the lighter, like he was thinking about going for a second the moment he finished what he was currently smoking. Not because he was stressed, though. He was still cucumber calm over there.
“In fact,” he continued, “I’m a firm believer in not sticking my nose into other people’s business. And if it makes you feel better to play pretense with that scarf or my jacket or my phone or whatever, that’s fine with me, too. You don’t owe me anything, and that includes your truth.”
She searched his face. There was no reserve, no artifice in his strong features, and his eyes were not avoiding hers—and that was when she discovered that she couldn’t do what was expected of her in this situation. She couldn’t wipe his short-term memories, which was absolutely the thing to do when a human knew too much or got too close.
But getting into his mind and stealing his thoughts? Well, that was robbery.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated hoarsely. “God, I keep saying that, don’t I.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” He shrugged. “Hell, less than twenty-four hours ago, we didn’t even know each other existed. Why would you feel guilty about anything when it comes to me?”
Lyric felt herself go totally still. And even though there was a warning voice ricocheting through her head like a stray bullet, she heard herself say:
“You’re the first male I’ve noticed in a very, very long time.”
Okay, that was a half-truth. He was the first male she’d ever really noticed. For all the attractive fighters she was around on a regular basis, and all the aristocrats who hung out with Shuli, and even the two she’d dated for a while, there had never been much resonance to any of them.
“I don’t know why you’re different,” she said in a low voice. “And I don’t even care.”
Dev glanced down at the cigarettes in his hand. Then he put them in his pocket and walked over to his bed. At the little table that held his lamp and charging station, he pulled out the drawer and riffled around. Straightening, he didn’t close things up, but went into his bathroom. There were other sounds of him moving things around.
When he came back out, he had a pen in his hand, and he walked straight by her. Unspooling a paper towel from its roll, he bent over the counter where the serving dishes of their meal were still sitting out.
After he finished writing something, he put the pen down and approached her. “This doesn’t have to be a one-night-stand thing. If you don’t want it to be.”
When she opened her mouth, he shook his head sharply. “Nope. Don’t answer now. Go home and think about it. And if you decide you want more than tonight…”
He took her hand and pressed a folded-up square into it. “Here’s my number. You call me and we’ll have dinner tomorrow evening. Like a proper date, without all kinds of naked happening and no gunfire in the background.”
She looked down at the wedge of paper towel. “How are you like this.”
“Like what?”
“After everything tonight…” Her eyes lifted to his. “Most guys would have run in the opposite direction when I stopped the sex. And they never would have gotten to the…”
“The shooting part?”
“Yeah. How are you not asking questions.”
His eyes grew remote. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes,” she said urgently. “I do.”
It was a while before he answered, and when he did, his voice was so deep, it was nearly inaudible.
“No, you don’t.” He went over to his dresser. “And don’t forget your scarf.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Destination. They needed a fucking destination with adequate cover, sufficient camouflage, and medical supplies.
On the far side of the dumpster, L.W. jogged through the frozen slush with the aristocrat on his shoulders, trying to triangulate their position relative to the Brotherhood’s secret garage. If he could get over there? He had the code to access the bulletproof interior, and he could pull the rip cord on an evac for Shuli.