The glass moved closer and closer to his mouth, his eyes watching me over the rim…then suddenly he jerked as if something startled him, and as he reached inside his pocket for whatever it was that made him jump, the highball glass tilted inward and spilled all over him.
“Ah shit,” he grumbled.
His hand came out of his pocket with a vibrating cellphone, and he slammed it down on the table along with the now empty glass.
With his hands held out from his body, he glanced down at his soaked frontal, then across the table at me. He was wearing a slight, toothless smile, almost like a smirk, but at the same time, his jaw was set hard, and his eyes were so dark and frightening now, I had to look away.
There went my easy fucking kill.
The same waitress from earlier materialized with a hand towel and began dabbing it on Chad’s wet clothes to help. But he shooed her away, telling her he was alright.
When it was just him, me, silence, and his stare left at the table, I cleared my throat. “You should go change into some dry clothes. I could help you if you’d like…”
Silence. Dark stare.
Okay, I had no idea what happened to him in the last few minutes, because he was a different person now. What’s with the stare? Did he know I poisoned his drink?
No. Impossible. He couldn’t justknowthat. I hadn’t been obvious with it. I’d done the Kill-Ring trick more times than I could count and it worked unerringly. There’s no possible way he could’ve known.
So, what’s with the death stares?
It was beginning to unnerve me how unnerved he made me.
I wasn’t supposed to be afraid of him. I wasn’t supposed to have any kind of reaction to him. I was supposed to be a steel post. Do the job and get out. Why was I letting him and his scare-stare get to me?
I was trained better than this.
Picking up my purse, I eased out of the booth and stood up. I needed some time to get myself in check. To get my priorities in line. To slaughter my fucking fears. “I should go.”
“Yes, you should,” he agreed. “It’s wise.”
Sucking in a breath, I walked away from the booth, from him, repeating the mantra:I am not afraid of Chadrick Niiveux. I am not afraid of Chadrick Niiveux. I am not afraid of Chadrick Niiveux.
Was blind, but now I see…
CHAD
He was seriously fucked.
F.u.c.k. fucked.
For this girl, he should be feeling nothing but hate, knowing her intentions. Instead, he felt something else entirely. Something baffling. Something detrimental. Something insane.
He was feeling her.
He wanted her.
No, not her soul. Buther. He wanted to steal her, brand her, make her his.
What the fuck was wrong with him? The girl was trying to kill him, for shit’s sake.
Chad watched as Jhay sauntered away from the booth, her strides confident and unshaken. Her black, waist-length ponytail swaying behind her in sync with her hips. The girl was so fucking sexy it was terrifyingly alarming.
He couldn’t believe his little Tweety Byrd had grown up to be so cock-tormentingly hot. No doubt in his mind that body of hers had been the weakness of all her male victims. And judging by his current reaction to her, it would be his weakness, too.
Fucking hell.
Her fear of him was non-existent. Which was both new and challenging for Chad. Because if he’d been just another unsuspecting victim of hers, she would have easily taken him clean out with the Kill-Ring trick just now.
