Never Kiss a Bad Boy (6 page)

A stack of bricks filled my throat.
My age. He'd already killed five people by then?

“Anyway,” he went on. “Jacob took point, made sure no one was watching. We were near the wharf, I figured I could slip in, get him with some wire from behind. Done.”

If I closed my eyes, I could have pictured it better.

I didn't dare try.

Kite's lips softened. He wasn't angry or irritated... just subdued. “I was quiet as anything, even without the rough waves hiding my steps that night. Culver was drunk. You'd think that would have helped, but alcohol makes some people stupid and others—well.” There, a real smile. “He was a beast. I dug the wire into his throat, threw myself back, but he didn't go down. Guy fought me, got his nails on my arms and dug in deep. Made me bleed before he finally choked.”

My lungs could have exploded. Breathing out loudly, I shook my head. “Wait. I thought you were telling me about a hit that went wrong. You still killed him, right?”

“That's why I said you don't know anything.” Kite pulled around a street, the car rolling into the parking lot of my complex. He cut the engine, then twisted to face me.

In the low lights, Kite was a mixture of gentle breathing and wild, dangerous eyes. His arm was over the back of his seat. I could see every muscle fiber flexing.

I grabbed my knees tighter and forced myself to remain still.

He whispered, “Culver scratched me.” Lifting his palm between us, Kite flexed his fingers into claws. “Skin cells under the nails. It'd be enough to lead the authorities back to me. Normally, we can leave a body at a scene and it won't matter. Not this time.”

“What did you do?” I hushed.

His hand became a fist. He left it fall into his lap. “Jacob helped me wrap the body, then we loaded it into the car. What would
you
do with a corpse?”

Shivering, I kept my voice steady. “I don't know. Burn it?”

His chuckle was wicked. “Too much left behind to identify. We had to erase every bit of that body. Any other guesses?”

I shook my head, a barely noticeable move. Of course, Kite saw it. I suspected he saw everything.

“Big metal barrel.” His eyebrows hooded his face. “Enough acid to cover everything. Took almost a week. We watched the news, praying no one had seen our car or us. Like always, they never did.” Hesitating, Kite stared at me in our private bubble and frowned. “Or they never did... until you.”

Bile flooded my mouth.
Is this story a warning? Is he threatening me, letting me know he could make me disappear?
It was a horrific thought.

Shrugging, Kite leaned back and took out his keys. “I'm sure that was disturbing, but you needed to hear the reality. We fuck up and it's ugly. Melting a body and—”

“What happened next?” I asked.

He paused, eyes shadowed and suspicious. “Next?”

“The remains, where did you put them?” Call me twisted, I just needed to know what had happened to Culver. The idea they had a barrel of corpse juice hanging around was too much.

Kite unlocked the doors; the noise made me jump. “You shouldn't want to know the grizzly details.”

If we left that car, he would never answer me.

“Please,” I said, grabbing for his elbow. His skin was smooth, and too warm for a cold monster. His eyes opened a fraction wider, and I pulled away nervously.

“You really want to know?” he asked.

I considered my answer. “I think I have to.”

Kite closed his eyes. His cool mask had returned. “The ocean. We poured him out into the ocean.” He opened the door and let the brisk air inside the car.

Stepping from the car, I begged my legs to stop wobbling.

The parking lot was cracked, the staircase up to my door no better. I'd warned him, my complex was essentially a revamped motel.

Twisting my key in the lock, I jiggled the handle. Nothing happened. Peering up at Kite, I flashed an embarrassed smile. “One second, it likes to—” I jerked it, grunting. “Jam. Ugh.”

Yanking the handle, I finally pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief. Clicking on the light, the small room was bathed in all its glory.

I'd left piles of newspapers on the couch, magazines and printed articles. Kite only had to glance at them to realize most had to do with Frank's murder.

He followed me in, hands deep in his pockets. I hadn't left the heat on while I was out, it was... expensive to run it all the time.

Eyeing him, I tried to tell if he was cold—I certainly was, and I had on a thick sweater. Kite was wearing nothing but a tan, short sleeved top that showed off his biceps and defined forearms. Had he left his jacket at the bar in his haste to get out of there with me?

The hitman shut the door with his hip. Watching him close us into a small space had my blood chilling.

Stop worrying,
I told myself.
If he was going to kill you, he wouldn't have taken you back here to do it.
His story about the barrel had rattled my stomach. Following my own logic was a chore.

“Don't take too much,” he said. “You can come back another time for the rest.”

Stepping over a pile of clothes, I scooped up a duffel bag. “You're serious about me moving out of here.”

“Yeah, very serious.”

“No, I mean... I have a lot of stuff.” Glancing at him, I stuffed some clean jeans into my bag. “You should realize how much work it'll be getting it all out, storing it, that kind of thing. It's no joke to move so quickly.”

Kite graced me with a sly smile. “It won't be a problem.”

Not prying into his cryptic confidence, I moved towards my bathroom. He said not to take much, so I wouldn't. A toothbrush, some toiletries, I filled my bag like I was having a sleepover. “So which apartment am I staying in?” I called out. “Yours or Jacob's?”

Stepping into the main room, I spotted Kite bending over my couch. He was toeing aside some papers with the tip of his shoe. The instant he saw me watching, he stopped. “I offered mine up. If you hate it, Jacob will probably let you switch.”

“Probably?” I asked.

He shrugged lazily. “The guy can be weird about his personal space.”

Crossing to the kitchen, I said, “If he's weird, I guess that makes you the polite one.”

“No. It makes me the most paranoid.”

I felt him burning holes into the back of my skull. Opening a cupboard, I blocked the line of sight to give myself some breathing room.

Speaking of paranoia...
Kite was managing to prowl my apartment while hardly moving a few feet.
It's almost like he's looking for something.
Frowning, I shuffled the boxes in the cupboard loudly. Through the tiny crack of the hinges, I squinted into the other room.

The red-haired man was using his shoes to slide things around, squinting beneath. Just seeing him investigating my apartment was pushing needles into my nerves.

Shit,
I thought suddenly.
He wants the letter.

Of course he did. Now that I realized it, it made perfect sense.
Well, too bad I'm not so stupid. You won't find anything here.

It told me, though, how tenuous my life was in the hands of these men. If even now, after they'd said they would help me, Kite was scanning for the get-out-of-jail-free-card I had penned... it didn't take much for me to connect the dots.

If they got the letter, they could kill me without hesitation.

The thing is, they didn't know me. They didn't grasp what fear even
was
to me. I'd lived through the torture of losing everyone and everything.

Let Kite and Jacob plot my death behind my back. It wasn't my life that mattered to me.

If it had been, I'd never have stepped foot into their bar.

If I could get my revenge, I didn't give a shit what happened to me.

Slamming the cupboard was satisfying; I caught Kite jumping, trying to act like he'd been standing there innocently. His smile was strained when I came his way. “What's that?” he asked.

I waved the box. “Hot chocolate. Can't wake up without it.” Hooking the bag on my arm, I juggled it and my purse. “I'm ready. Let's go see my new home.”

Lifting an eyebrow, he approached me. It was sudden, too quick for me to do anything but hold my breath. “Here,” he said, a hand closing on my shoulder. “Let me help.”

The last time Kite had stood this close to me, he'd had his hand on my face, ready to muffle my screams. The man had been a lightning strike I'd narrowly avoided.

With his scent flooding my skull, my cells clogged with thrills and heat. His knowing eyes kept me still, and the slope of his muscles shoulders pushed all but one word out of my brain:

Sex.

And yes, I know that was crazy.

Kite buzzed with a primal energy that promised dark, delicious things for my body.

Dazed, I glanced at his fingers. Those tattooed knuckles waved, a flag to warn me who I was dealing with. Who was touching me.

Fuck, how did I make words again?

He reminded me by speaking first. “You alright?”

My tongue was wooden. “Uh. Yes.”
Very much no. Get it together, Marina.
“I can carry it, it's not heavy.”

He slid the bag off of me. I didn't even stop him.

My purple sack hung across his chest, indenting his shirt and displaying the groove between his pecs. “It's even less heavy for me. Come on, let's get out of here. I don't want people seeing my car.”

Steeling my nerves, I told my feet to follow him. My finger poised on the light when I reached the door. He waited for me to open it. I did, then turned back to gaze over the room.

My tiny, messy home.

I didn't know what was ahead of me. I only knew that, if I stayed here, this was what I would get to keep; a cold, desolate place to rest my nightmare fueled head.

Flicking the light off, I locked up and didn't look back.

Kite

––––––––

I
could smell her sweat in the car. I'd felt her constant shift between confidence and unease since the start. If she'd been anyone else—and I wished she was—I would have had her against the wall of her apartment.

Shit, maybe before then.

Pressing her against the car window, seeing her breath fog it up... the idea made me rock hard. Marina was a walking beacon of sex and boldness. I liked that. Probably too much.

I'd wanted to kiss her the instant she'd swayed into my life. Now, knowing what
she
knew about
me
, that idea had to be shoved aside.

Giving in to my basest of urges was too risky. I'd told her, leaving evidence was a mistake. Fucking her and digging my teeth into her shoulder, my cock feeding between her lovely thighs, it would be a map that pointed back to me.

I needed to hold back.

“This way,” I said, shutting Jacob's car and locking it with his keys. It beeped in the packed garage. Marina looked around, studying the space. I'd seen how wide her eyes had gotten when we rolled up to the building. “What's wrong?”

She blinked, scanning the cars. “Nothing.”

Following her eyes, I noticed where she was looking. My sunset colored Mercedes stood out among the vehicles. The corner of my lip twitched.
She recognizes it, doesn't she?
If she'd been stalking me at the bar, no doubt she'd watched me park it there before.

Hoisting her bag, I headed towards the stairs. “Hurry up.”

“Can't we take the elevator?” she asked, pointing.

I didn't slow down, my shoes clopping on the first step. “Sorry, not possible.”

Marina followed me, standing in the stairwell. Her delicate eyebrows were making deep grooves. “No cameras this way, is that it?”

Chuckling, I looked down at her from the sixth step. “Clever. Yes, no cameras.”

“If you don't want a record of me being here, it won't work.” Folding her arms, Marina shrugged. “Someone is going to see me eventually.”

“Seeing isn't the same as being recorded.” Turning, I started my climb. I wondered if she knew
why
I wanted no record. “It's a long way, come on.”

It took her a minute before she followed me.

Only fifteen minutes later, she stopped again. “No,” she huffed, wiping sweat from her face. She'd tied her hair back during the climb. The nape of her neck was hard to look away from. “I don't think I can do this. How much higher do we have to go?”

“I live on the twentieth floor. This is the twelfth.”

Marina pushed through the doorway on the landing.

“Hey!” I hissed.

Ignoring me, she was halfway into the hall before I reached her, snatching her by the upper arm and yanking her back into the stairwell. It was a smooth series of movements, the door shutting softly behind me in spite of my speed.

I pushed her against the wall, my lips inches from hers. “What are you
doing?
” I growled.

Wide-eyed, the sheen on her cheeks glistened. “I—I was going to take the elevator.” Shaking herself, she tried to regain her composure. With my fingers digging into her shoulders, it was hard. “Let go of me.”

Her breasts were touching my chest; I hadn't realized until that moment.

Fuck, she smells so good.

My cock gave an argumentative throb when I peeled my hands off of her. “Don't just act without telling me first. We're trying to keep a low profile.”

“You're being
too
cautious,” she said. Rubbing her arms, she erased where I had held her. “If I'm living with you guys, I'm not going to climb twenty fucking floors every single day. And I'm clearly not staying in your apartment for every hour.”

“I said no elevator.”

“You said you didn't want a record,” she argued. Pushing off the wall, Marina stood on her toes until we were eye level. “Is there a camera actually recording in the elevator?”

My molars creaked. “No. It's someone watching the live feed.”

Lifting her eyebrows, she purposefully grabbed the door handle. With me glowering, she opened it. “Then let's take the elevator, and I'll make sure not to look at the camera.”

She was right, and I hated that. “Fine. But follow my lead.”