Page 5 of Devil's Claim

“See? I wasn’t going to hurt you. At least not like you plan on doing to me.” A slight nervous tic appeared in the corner of her mouth.

I glanced toward her phone on the counter. Whatever music was playing in a continuous loop was as annoying as the situation. “I won’t hurt you. If you behave.” What was the godawful sound?

She snorted and slapped her hand across her mouth. When I glanced at her phone again, she caught my gaze. “That’s Taylor Swift music. I take it you’re not a Swiftie.”

“Name.” Frowning, I immediately headed to her front door. At least she’d been smart enough to lock that one, including sliding the deadbolt into place. I stormed back, immediately cocking my head from the way she was staring at me. “What is your name?”

“Look, buddy. I don’t provide private information to strangers. That’s the clearest way of getting yourself… killed. You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

Was this girl kidding me? I narrowed my eyes.

“Okay. It’s Christine. We aren’t friends yet, so you don’t get my last name.”

I had no idea what the hell to do with her. At this point, I was ready to drag her over my knees and give her a hard spanking just for taunting me. I moved further into her tiny kitchen, checking for a hidden weapon.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, although her tone was much more demanding than it should be.

I opened every cabinet door and searched on top of the refrigerator. If necessary, I’d check the rest of her house later, but it was apparent she had nothing to do with the attack.

After a few seconds of me remaining quiet, she whistled. “O-kay. So, I need a drink. I have a feeling you do too.”

She’d turned around, watching everything I did with her arms folded. She’d smeared the icing she’d rubbed from my face onto her leggings. There was something so naturally attractive about her, even though she was nothing like the women I’d dated. If you could call the few one-night hookups dating. In her casually sloppy clothes and disheveled but adorable hair, she was truly an utter beauty.

Who smelled like sin.

Even her bare feet with the chipped polish ignited something deep and dark within me.

I said nothing, but nodded. The less I said to her, the better off it would be for both of us. If she was innocent, she didn’t need to become mixed up in the shit about ready to hit the fan.

And it would.

Heads would roll.

Blood would tarnish Miami’s already sordid reputation.

And I’d laugh my ass off all the way back to Barcelona.

She pulled a bottle of tequila from under the counter, yanking an already opened bottle of wine forward as well. After tapping her nails onto the counter, she frowned and inched closer to where Iwas standing. With her being so close, I grasped the first hint of real fear stirring within her.

Good. She should be terrified of me.

“Unless you want to drink straight from the bottle, I need to get a couple glasses from the cabinet behind you.”

The tension was thick, the sexual provocation increasing. I moved a few inches, forcing her to brush against me while opening the door and retrieving the glasses. Another jagged jolt of current flowed from one to the other. She seemed none too happy, cursing under her breath while being unable to look me in the eyes.

“What’s your poison?” she managed.

“Tequila.”

“I figured you for a tequila man. Do you have a big, bad Harley waiting for you or did you fly here with your bat wings?”

If she expected me to laugh or acknowledge her question, she was wrong.

She sighed and poured a hefty shot of tequila for me in a strange-looking glass, wine for herself. The initial rush of adrenaline was finally giving way to heavy anxiety. However, I’d give her credit for maintaining calm, rare for even the most powerful, well-trained soldiers.

Instead of handing me the glass, she smartly slid the drink in my direction.

“Is it okay if I finish icing the cake or will that put me on the naughty list?”

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