Page 9 of The Reaper's Vice

“No.” His brows furrow. “I mean yourrealname.”

I turn to him with a scowl. “What makes you think Brandy isn’t my name?”

“For starters?” He sits back, making a show of dragging his eyes down my scantily clad frame. “You just told me you’re a whiskey girl.”

I roll my eyes again but make no comment, and he grins like he thinks he’s figured me out.

“So… whatisyour real name?”

“Biteme McGee.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Seriously?”

My pale lashes flutter sweetly. “It’s a family name. Middle school was a bitch.”

He throws his head back in a laugh that exposes his Adam’s apple, and I lick my lips as the urge to run my tongue across his throat overwhelms me.

“I can see why,” he finally says, running his eyes over me in the same hungry way as earlier. “Such an ugly name wasted on a pretty face.”

I should say something to shut him up, but…

Dammit. It should be illegal to be that hot.

“Anyway… what'syourname?” I ask, dragging my eyes from his perfect plump lips and fixing my face in a bored expression.

“Orion Adair.” He smirks. “Fastest hands in the West.”

I’m about to make some crack about it not being wise to give your full name to strangers—or maybe about his outdated Western reference—when something weird occurs to me. “I thought your last name was Jameson?”

“I told you—Jameson was the name of the man I killed to get this uniform.”

I take the opportunity to look at him—reallylook—and what I see lurking beneath his teasing smile disturbs me.

“I should get going,” I murmur, reaching for my purse to pay for my drink.

“Don’t bother.” He rests his hand atop mine, and my skin jumps. I look up, hitting him with a bright—albeit somewhat feral—smile.

“Thank you… Orion.”

“My pleasure,” he murmurs, watching me intently as I slide out of my seat.

“Oh,Brandy?”

“Yeah?” I nearly losing my balance with the force I whip around to face him.

“Be careful out there.” He tips his drink toward the TV screen with that eerie smile still pulling at his mouth. “It seems there’s a psycho running amok.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words get caught in my throat. With a disgruntled huff, I turn on my heels and hasten out of the bar, casting all thoughts of the handsome, disconcerting officer aside.

After all, it’s best not to keep Ivan waiting.

3

ORION

“LOOK BOTH WAYS BEFORE CROSSING THE STREET”

I stareat the door the golden-eyed girl swept through a minute ago, willing her to rematerialize.

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