Page 6 of Shadow Hunter

Damon held the Desert Eagle steady. “Don’t move.”

The bass of the club’s music thumped distantly, the dark shadows in the room obscuring his view. Damn it. The evening wasn’t exactly going to plan, but he knew better than to let an opportunity pass when it was presented to him.

And she’d made herself such easy bait.

“Drop the weapon,” he ordered.

With slow, tentative movements, she spread her arm to her sides, so he could see the firearm. She released the gun’s magazine, and it fell onto the floor before she dropped the gun.

“Good.” He pushed the barrel harder against the base of her skull. If he was going down this unexpected road, at the very least, he would leverage it to his advantage. “I want names,” he growled. “All the higher-ups in the Rochester coven.” It wasn’t a formal introduction to the new city he found himself in, but it was a start.

She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Fuck off, asshole,” she snarled.

Without warning, she spun out of range, grabbing hold of his hand and digging her fingernails into his metacarpals. He dropped his gun, surprise causing him to miscalculate.

Shit.

His weapon clattered onto the floor. The sound of the club’s music covering the commotion.

Even through the darkness, the haughty, satisfied look that crossed her face betrayed her. She thought she’d disarmed him.

But two could play at that game.

Damon smirked, chuckling to himself as he lifted one dark brow.

“Impressive.” He grinned. Quickly regaining the upper hand, he drew his switch blade, watching as her eyes grew wide. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Surging forward, she threw a roundhouse kick.

But he blocked the blow from his face. “That the best you’ve got?” He huffed, placing his knife hand over his heart. “I’m disappointed. Truly.”

“Quit playing and fight me, asshole,” she snarled, throwing another kick.

This one was twice as strong as the last. Thanks to her fury.

But he swatted her blow away easily.

“Better,” he growled. Though still not enough.

He had to admit. He was impressed.

Whoever she was, she could pack a helluva kick.

She was trained, strong. Far stronger than she looked, but she also wasn’t even half his size. She’d need to do a lot better than that if she expected to pull one over on him. She threw another vicious sidekick, this one narrowly missing his nose, but he ducked at the last second. She rounded, following through as she tried, and failed, to punch him in the balls.

He frowned.

How come it was always the small ones who were the feistiest opponents?

“That was a cheap shot, and you know it.”

“Says the pretty boy who can only block me,” she shot back.

Pretty boy?

He scowled. “Fine. You asked for it.”

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