Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
BOSTON
I had a feeling she was more lethal than she seemed.
All my life, I’ve been trained to catch killers. It’s something I’m extremely good at. Though, I can honestly say this blue-haired little dynamite has had me stumped up until now, which not many have been able to do.
I’m good at killing killers. It’s one of the reasons I joined the Forsaken in the first place.
Soren had offered me an opportunity I couldn’t turn down.
I could pick some killers now and then, and I could hunt them down with no connections coming back to me.
He’d told me about how my father was once a member, which I was unaware of, but later discovered he was telling the truth.
It’d sounded too good to be true, yet after some serious thought, I’d decided to join.
I’m not dumb, though. I understand why he wanted someone like me to join the Forsaken.
I’ve covered up many of their crimes, and I knew that was a condition of me joining.
I would have to put in more than the others simply because of who I am.
Some of the members see me as beneath them in rank, and while they’re mostly right, I don’t think they quite understand the power I possess.
But even with holding power, there are still consequences to actions.
For one, Soren keeps asking when I’ll get married.
You see, in the Forsaken, wives are preferred over girlfriends because girlfriends talk too much, while wives do not.
And I can’t remember exactly how that came into play.
Still, I remember one of them talking about something along the lines of it’s harder to get your wife to testify against you than your girlfriend, because you have more leverage over your wife.
I shake those thoughts off and turn back to the matter at hand.
Her beautiful blue eyes blink up at me, and I smirk. Not only is she a fucking smart-ass, but she’s quite gifted at killing.
“Was Bailey easier?” I ask.
She manages to sit up but doesn’t make a move to stand. Her hand rubs her jaw, and I see blood on her lips, which I first took for red lipstick.
She doesn’t bother denying it. “Yes, way easier.”
I offer her my hand, and she looks at it reluctantly.
“Stab me with whatever it is you gave him, and it won’t be just your lip bleeding,” I warn.
“That was my last dose,” she says proudly before she takes hold of my hand. I pull her up and yank her close to me. Even in heels, she’s much shorter than I am.
“You’re bleeding,” I state.
“That I am.”
I reach up and wipe her bottom lip with my thumb before I put it in my mouth and taste it.
“That’s disgusting,” she whispers, but her dilated pupils tell me she thinks differently.
“I have a proposition for you,” I say.
I knew what I was going to do the minute I followed her into Marcus’s house.
I was about to make her mine and not give her a way out of it.
She is the first woman who has ever fucked with my head so much that it feels like it’s going to explode.
I’ve finally discovered her weakness, and now it’s my turn to play games, the thing she loves doing so much with me.
“What?” she questions, her gaze bouncing between my lips and my eyes.
“You’ll marry me.”
Her eyes go wide at that statement. “Are you okay?” She shakes her head. “I am not marrying you.”
“You should. It’s the best of the few options you have.” She tries to wriggle from my grip, but I hold her in place. The warmth of her body under my fingertips feels nice.
“Options?” she scoffs. “I could kill you now.”
Leaning in so my mouth touches her ear, I whisper, “You could try.”
She quickly jerks her head back, then slams her forehead into my nose, hitting it so hard that I stumble backward, dropping the grip I have on her.
She takes that opportunity to try to escape, but I reach out and manage to grab a handful of her shirt.
She pulls, and I pull harder, then the sound of material tearing at the seams hits my ears.
She spins around and takes a swing at me, but I capture her hand, so she kicks my shin instead.
Fuck, that hurt.
I try to get a better grip on her, but she does some weird move that has us both losing our footing. She falls back as I topple forward, and we both land on the floor, me now above her, my body consuming hers.
“You either marry me, or I arrest you for murder. Which one?” I grit out.
“I won’t marry you,” she says, struggling under me. With each wiggle, my cock grows harder. It takes her a moment to notice, but when she does, she pauses and locks eyes with me as she further contemplates her options.
“Arrest me. I’ll find a way out of it.” She calls my bluff, her chin raised a little higher.
“Marry me, or I’ll pin the murder on your sister. And trust me, I will get the evidence required to do so.”
“You wouldn’t,” she seethes, her blue eyes sparking with anger.
“Oh, but I would, Dynamite,” I say. “Think about it. That way, your sister could be clean forever, because she would have no choice.”
“You’re a real asshole,” she growls.
“I know.”
“Fine,” she says with a huff of her breath.
“Good, you need to get cleaned up. We’re going to Vegas.”
“Vegas?” she questions, her eyes wide in shock.
“You don’t think I would let you go that easily, do you? And, yes, Vegas. I have a meeting I need to attend there, and you’re going with me.”
“You don’t even like me,” she says as I push off of her.
“I don’t have to like you to fuck you,” I retort. And damn have I been thinking about the way she would taste, the way she would move under me. Fuck, my cock is still hard.
“I am not fucking you,” she scoffs. After a moment she adds, “We need to burn the house down; there may be DNA evidence from my blood.” We look back into the bathroom where Marcus lies dead and the shower still runs.
“Done,” I agree. “Go home and clean yourself up. If you aren’t ready and waiting for me by the time I’m there, I’m going to arrest your sister for murder.”
Her eyes go wide at the threat, then she flips me off and stalks out.