You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 83

I took longer hauling that second luggage upstairs than I did carrying the first. Then I went downstairs to find her on the couch, reading a book that didn't seem to be in English.

"It's not funny, you know? Making those ridiculous claims."

She didn't take her eyes off the book. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I almost ruin your relationship?"

I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to keep a rein on my emotions.

"Look, I hate it when all of you make it seem like I really had a choice. If your boss hadn't forced himself on me, I'm telling you, you wouldn't even know the color of my damn eyes."

"You sure about that? You make it sound like he's not hot enough."

"Well, he's not. Not to me."

I paused for a breath. "You might be used to this world—blood and all. But I'm not and will never be. Growing up, I never saw myself to be with a man who sheds blood for living. A man everyone knows as The Torturer."

She finally lowered the book, her chilling eyes meeting mine with a hint of disappointment.

"All you naive girls," she tsked. "You'd rather go for a saint, huh? A 'saint.' Until you discover there was only ever one difference—they sin differently.

I frowned, though I let her voice keep the floor.

"Nobody's a saint. We've had blood on our hands from the moment we passed through that birth hole. What, you'd pick a man who cheats on his woman because he doesn't kill? You'd pick a man who tells bedtime lies to his kids while neglecting the wife who bore them? Or maybe you'd go for the sweetheart at home who's a devil on the streets."

She raised her brow, savoring the way my silence folded like a losing hand.

"You've got a man who's opened every door in his closet to you. A man who's introduced every skeleton in his cupboard. Yet, you'd pick someone else who probably has more secrets than a diary."

She leaned back in her seat, bringing the book back to her face. "I'd pick an open monster any day. A man who can kill to make me smile. And when I say kill," her eyes flicked from the book to mine. "I do not say that figuratively."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

VOID

I watched the blood drag itself down his face like it knew where it was going.

It trailed in a perfect line, only stopping when it kissed the corner of his mouth, as if testing the taste of fear.

I cocked my head to the side, wondering if the mark on his cheekbone would bleed the same. Didn't think so.

The man drew a ragged breath. "If I knew anything about his whereabouts, I'd tell you. I don't."

He struggled against the binds twisted behind him. Too bad they were stuck.

This must be humiliating for him. Jett Faraday was no small man. Having him sit on the floor with his hands tied... I was sure he's never been in this position before.

"I believe you, Jett." I was crouched before him. "Problem is, I really need to find Blade."

Behind me, the two scums grunted through their gags. They were the unfortunate people we'd found Jett drinking with when we burst the bar.

Since Jett had a face, he was a lot easier to track than Blade. He had pictures on the web that gave out vital information about him: his friends, business associates, known hangouts, even his favorite goddamn croissant.

You leave tracks like that for me? You may as well hand-deliver your bones.

Jett bent his head in regret, I think. "I knew this was a bad idea. He assured us we weren't going to have any issues with you!"

I tilted my chin. "Blade?"

"Yes! We've been avoiding you, Void! Hell, we didn't even hold the meeting on your turf. So how the fuck did this circle back to us?"

My rifle returned to Jett's terrified face just before I carved a bullet right through his brows.. That was quite precise.

I took a deep breath of fresh air. I couldn't believe the night was over and I could finally go home to Rali.

"What do we do next?" Eric asked behind me, stepping over one of the bodies without flinching. His voice was a little too calm for someone with blood spatter on his shoes.

"Nothing. Except erasing our tracks. I need Blade to see the body."

If my theory held up, the fucker would be contacting me in a couple of days.

***†*†

It was close to 4 a.m. when I made it home. Translation? I didn't get to spend the night with Rali.

That pissed me off more than I cared to admit and fueled my hatred a little more for Blade. If the asshole didn't have me scouting for him, it'd have been my body warming hers instead of that goddamn blanket.

She didn't hear me come in. How could she when she slept like a horse?

Beside her was a book and headphones. She was lying on her belly, lips parted in a careless pout, messy strands of hair covering her face.

She looked wrecked but fucking gorgeous. Who the fuck looks this good in their sleep? Yeah—Rali.

She looked too untouched. Too clean for the kind of man I was. And yet, my damn chest clenched like she was the fucking defibrillator keeping it beating.

Fuck, this woman was gorgeous. In the kind of way that made pain feel like a fair trade just to keep looking. I look at that baby face every damn time and thank the stars she's mine.

I debated my options to wake her: tap my cock against her lips, roll up her shirt and entertain her nipples, or much better, expose her thighs and greet her pussy with my cock. The two have definitely missed each other.

A minute later and I was seated in the chair by my desk, deciding on the unlisted option to watch her sleep.