2. Cian #2
I pulled out my gun, balancing the tray as I unlocked the door. Skylar needed to see I was still dangerous, and the gun was a reminder of that.
Skylar was back in the chair, looking cleaner but even more terrified than before—her eyes focused on the gun, like I knew she would. Her hair was loose, long, damp waves down her back. I set the tray down in front of her with a smile. “You look better.”
She sniffed. “Well, great. I’m so happy my smell isn’t bothering you anymore. I’d hate to think of you as uncomfortable.”
There was the feistiness I liked.
“Sorry the clothes aren’t a better fit. I’ll have Sean pick you up something more your size tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’ll still be alive then?”
I sighed. “Yes. You’ll be alive.” I pushed the tray toward her. “Here. You must be hungry.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Wait. I thought his name was Carlo.”
Shit —I’d let that slip.
I shrugged. “Think of Sean as a nickname. He uses Carlo professionally.”
“I don’t know your name.”
I sighed, unsure what that had to do with eating a sandwich. “My name is Cian.”
“Cian? Your parents not like you or something?”
I rolled my eyes.
“So, Cian …” She paused. “Is that the name you use professionally as well?”
“No. I go by Anthony.”
She snorted. “How original. Tony the hit man.”
I glared at her and pushed the plate closer with the edge of the gun. “Eat the sandwiches, Skylar.”
“No.”
I was truly perplexed. “Why? I know you’re hungry.”
She sniffed. “You probably drugged them. God knows what you’ll do once I’m immobilized.”
I bit back a laugh. “They’re not drugged. And I told you. Nothing’s going to happen to you while you’re with me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
I nudged the plate again. “Nothing will happen to you. Eat.”
Her stubborn little chin stuck out even farther. “No.”
“Sean will be so hurt. He made these for you himself.”
“If you’re so worried about his feelings , eat them yourself.”
I lifted the plate. “Pick one.”
“What?”
“Pick one, and I’ll eat it to prove there’s nothing wrong with them. Then you can eat the rest.”
I could see her wavering. I knew she had to be hungry.
“It could be a trick.”
I slammed down the plate in exasperation. “How can it be a trick, Skylar? I don’t know which one you’ll pick!”
“You could be betting against the odds,” she insisted.
“ What ?”
“Well, maybe only a few of them are drugged, and you’re betting I choose the un-drugged ones for you.”
“How the fuck does that make any sense?”
“Don’t swear at me! It’s rude!”
“You swear at me all the time! Just eat the fucking sandwiches!” I roared.
“No!”
Beyond furious, I grabbed one of the cut sandwiches and took a bite. Then I grabbed the next one and took a bite of it. I kept going until each one had a bite out of it, chewing and swallowing rapidly as I went.
“See? They’re all fucking fine. Now eat them!”
“Well, that was unnecessary. Rather disgusting too—now your DNA is all over them.”
I let my head fall forward, and I used the end of the gun to rub my aching temples. This girl was gonna be the death of me. “Eat the sandwiches, Skylar.”
I heard movement and opened my eyes. She bent forward, lifting a sandwich off the plate and slowly bringing it to her mouth. I got great satisfaction as I watched her bite and chew, her eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed. I knew she was hungry.
Her eyes opened, and she blushed as she saw me watching her. Without thinking, I flicked the gun in her direction. “Keep eating.”
Her already-pale face became ghostly. With a grimace, I shoved the gun down the small of my back. “Sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She lifted her head haughtily. “I’m not scared of you.”
I laughed, knowing how much of a lie that was. “You should be. Don’t forget that.”
I lifted the can of Coke and offered it to her, frowning when she shook her head. “Why? It’s in a can. I can’t drug it in the damn can!”
“You could put something on the lid.”
I stood. “You watch too much fucking TV.”
She snorted. “I’m homeless, fuckwit. We don’t carry flat-screens with us.”
My lips quirked. Did she really just call me fuckwit ? That was one of my favorite expressions.
“You have quite the potty mouth on you for such a little lady.”
She shrugged as she took another bite of sandwich. “You should talk, buddy.”
Walking to the bathroom, I ran the can under the water in the sink and flicked a towel off the rack, making a show of drying it. I handed it back to her. “There. Drug-free.”
She struggled to pop the top, and with a groan of impatience, I grabbed the can away from her and opened it. “Can or glass?”
“Glass.”
I poured the contents over the ice and slid the glass toward her. She took a deep swallow and sighed in satisfaction. She tilted the glass back and drained it. Obviously, she was thirsty too.
Before I could ask her if she wanted more, she belched. A long, loud burp that burst from her chest with no warning. Her eyes widened, her cheeks darkening as her hand covered her mouth. “Excuse me,” she mumbled.
“Nice.” I chuckled as I stood. “Ladylike—just as I expected from you.”
I walked toward the door, satisfied she would eat and knowing she would relax more if I was out of the room. Unable to resist, I paused as I walked out.
“Skylar?”
“What?”
“You forgot to check the ice. That’s where I put the drugs.”
I was laughing as she shrieked, and the sound of the glass hitting the door and shattering behind me only made me laugh harder.
“Get some sleep,” I called over my shoulder.
I passed Sean in the hall. “Cleanup, aisle four.”
“I heard.”
“Skylar may need something else to drink.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.” He smirked at me. “She’s getting to you.”
I shrugged.
But as I walked away, I knew he was right.
She had already gotten under my skin.
This was so not part of the plan.