Chapter Four
Theo
She stares up at me with crystal-clear blue eyes. There’s a danger behind them that anyone could get lost in, and I almost wish to submerge myself in the water of those irises.
Her mouth thins with anger, and her jaw flexes.
I expect her to try and knee me in the junk, so I begin moving my leg to stop her.
Instead, she throws her head forward with so much force that pain explodes where she connects with my nose.
Tasting blood at the back of my throat, I nearly lose my grip on her wrists.
But I just grunt and squeeze my legs tighter to keep from stumbling.
She struggles under my grip, her hip briefly brushing against my groin.
And fuck if my dick doesn’t threaten to harden at that momentary contact.
“That was rude,” I say, sniffing past the sharp pain in my nose. Blood fills my mouth, and I don’t hesitate before spitting. Red saliva lands on her chin, and she gasps in shock. I almost grin at her look of wild indignation.
“Let me go,” she demands, thrusting her hips forward. The motion is meant to throw her opponent off balance, but all it does is elicit a groan from me and mix a confusing amount of lust into the situation.
If I’d known she would finally make her move tonight, I would’ve had a quick fuck beforehand to avoid this exact reaction.
“So you can go for that knife at your side? Or the backup syringe I’m sure you have hidden away?” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow. “You mean you weren’t planning on drugging and killing me tonight?”
A flash of surprise fills her icy eyes.
“This isn’t a spontaneous attack. You’re much too prepared and controlled for that,” I continue, drawing on my weeks of research on her.
I first noticed her following me about two months ago.
It was her at the cafe when we met Henry.
She never looked our way, but she chose a seat between a very old man who reeked of tobacco and an overweight woman chewing gum louder than should be legal, despite there being two free tables in the cafe at the time.
The chair she chose was the only one that put us right in her eye line.
Later, she left the cafe after James and I started our bikes and followed us all the way to the clubhouse, though I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t already been watching.
She’s plainly an experienced stalker. She was never closer than two cars away.
From then on, I always had my eyes peeled.
Several times a week, she’d be there, just in the periphery, until her first time in the Iron Cage, when she flirted and danced with Raph.
I was in my office the whole time, watching the security cameras.
I could tell she wasn’t dancing for Raph, but she was still moving her body like a professional, swaying her seductive hips as if to lock men into a trance.
Raph thought he was going to get lucky, but I saw the way her eyes were constantly scanning, searching for me.
Poor guy lamented about being blown off for days.
Then Luna got her attention. For a moment, I wondered if Luna actually would get lucky. But, of course, June was too smart for that.
James is the only person who knows about my shadow, and neither of us has been able to find a connection.
June has never met any Saint of Purgatory as far as I can tell.
I’ve definitely never met her. James thought I fucked her at some point, but I would’ve remembered.
Early on, I realized she was the type of woman to unintentionally carve a home in my memory.
On the surface, June Graves is a typical, kind-hearted girl from New Mexico with a slight edge and taste for adventure.
She moved to Arizona a few days after her twenty-second birthday.
Her mom and stepdad still live in the suburbs of Albuquerque, and her stepsister lives in San Antonio with her son.
She’s a therapist who occasionally volunteers at the children’s hospital.
Her best friend, Sadie Oliver, owns a little plant nursery and has a Great Dane and several semi-regular ‘boyfriends’ coming and going.
They both meet two other friends every Tuesday for tacos and margaritas.
Evelyn is a social worker addicted to working, and Rose lives with her girlfriend, Vanessa.
June is a badass at kickboxing and a regular at Vanessa’s hot yoga classes, two things that resulted in very long cold showers after I first witnessed them.
Her criminal history is made up of a single parking ticket.
Oh, and she apparently stalks dangerous men, like the leader of an outlaw motorcycle club, and attacks them in public parks in the middle of the night.
I knew her intentions weren’t pure, but figuring out what they are has been excessively difficult.
James snuck into her house three weeks ago while I led her on a long ride around the city, and fortunately, though unhelpfully, she didn’t have an ‘evil plans’ journal or a picture of my head on a dart board.
But he did find a suspiciously clean basement stocked with rolls of plastic drop, a gun that turned out to be registered, and a toolbox with several odd tools, like a carving knife and a vial of drugs, locked in a giant safe.
More importantly, he planted a bug in her house.
Turns out, June talks to herself. Rarely full sentences; more like a few mumbled words fall from her mouth without permission. “Giant asshole… need a ton of drugs… could seduce him… can’t wait till March.”
Our best guess is she wants to kill me. Why is the real question.
James thinks she’s a hired assassin. I have no idea what to think. She’s dedicated, whatever her intentions are. I’ve rarely seen anyone so focused and committed to something as June is to hunting me down. That really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.
“You think I’m trying to kill you?” she asks, putting on a respectable act of surprised innocence. “I could never do that.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. You may look helpless, but I have a feeling you’d be able to take down most men twice your size.”
In a flash, she drops her mask and hisses, “Bigger.” Then, in quick succession, she spits in my face, twists her body to the side, yanks her arm out of my grasp when it loosens in shock, throws her elbow into my neck, drops, and rolls away.
Coughing, I wipe away her spit and turn to grab her. Unfortunately, she’s gotten her knife free and slices down, catching my forearm. A gasp of pain rips from my lips, and I jump back, instinctively covering the cut with my hand. Blood wells against my palm.
“Fuck!” I curse, looking from the wound to June. In addition to her knife, she now has a new syringe out.
I should be worried or angry or anything but what I am, which is impressed.
She really can handle herself.
“You know I have a gun, right?” I ask.
“Then shoot me.”
My eyebrows raise, but I don’t reach for the gun. I can hear James yelling at me in my head, calling me an idiot and telling me to shoot the bitch, but I don’t want to.
“Not all of us resort to violence to solve our problems.”
She laughs once, though the sound is more like a bark. “You wouldn’t know how to live without violence.”
“You think you know me after following me for a few weeks?” Again, there’s a moment of shock in her eyes, like she’s never been discovered before.
Has she done this before? Why ?
She recovers from her shock quickly. “I know more than you think.”
“Aren’t therapists supposed to help people, not hurt them? And, you know, not judge a book by its cover?”
“I’ve seen more than just your cover.”
I wink. “Want to see under my covers?”
She grimaces. “In my nightmares.”
“Nightmares can be fun if you do them right.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Then let me show you.” I lunge. She learned from her earlier mistake and doesn’t underestimate my speed, dodging and swinging out with the knife.
I block her arm and prioritize grabbing her other wrist so that pesky syringe doesn’t get anywhere near my skin.
I’ll most likely survive a stab wound, but if she gets those drugs in me, I’m done for.
I’m not sure what it is, but my guess is midazolam or diazepam, both of which she owns in excess.
The edge of her knife slides against my side, leaving a trail of stinging pain, but I don’t think it’s a deep cut, and the effort of trying to stab me puts her on the defensive.
A few seconds later, I’ve swept her legs out from under her and tackled her to the ground, mulch crunching under us.
She struggles, but I manage to land on top of her, knees on either side, hips anchoring her to the ground, and feet hooked over her ankles to stop her from kicking or getting leverage.
I pull both her arms up, knocking the syringe and knife away, and crush her wrists under one hand.
When we stop moving, I have her small form locked beneath me, our faces inches from each other and our hips lined up.
I could easily grind down and get a moment of relief from the aching desire that formed during the fight.
I smirk down at her. “Good try again, June. But you’re out of your league.”
“Fuck you.”
“Anytime you want.”
A drop of blood falls from the cut on my arm and lands on her forehead. I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t move a muscle.
Curious .
“Tell me, what exactly was your plan? Drug me, then what?”
Her lips press together.
“You’ve been following me for months. Why?”
Nothing.
“Did someone hire you?”
A blink.
“No?” I say. “So, this is all for you? That’s even more interesting.”
Her resolve not to respond seems to break on its own. “Why?”
“Because that opens a whole realm of intriguing possibilities. This is too planned to be a crime of passion. So, what is it? Revenge? What for?”