Page 7 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

Whoever pulled that trigger is already gone, and after triple-checking, I lower my weapon and approach the discarded body, watching the blood pool beneath the target. My gaze narrows, and despite being impressed by the accuracy of the hit, I’m fucking pissed.

This was my contract. My kill. And not only that, I walked away from the possibility of sinking into Lyra for this, and that shit doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll have somebody’s head for this.

A cold breeze slips through the alley, carrying the faint scent of something soft and sweet. Vanilla maybe. It’s the kind of scent that doesn’t belong anywhere near blood, gunpowder, and back alleys, and I can’t help but wonder if the scent belongs to the woman this asshole followed down here. And for the first time in a very long time, I feel something dangerously close to curiosity.

If there was a woman down here, then perhaps she got a glance at the shooter, but the chances of ever finding her are slim to none. The second the target’s brains painted the wall, she would have taken off at the speed of light. Any normal person would have. But to be sure, I walk up and down the alley, checking every shadow for any hint of who this woman might have been.

After the faint hint of vanilla is long gone, I give up. It’s a lost cause. Whoever was here is gone now, right along with my contract, and chasing ghosts down a dark alley isn’t going to change that.

Letting out a low breath, I turn toward the street and head back to my Challenger. Tonight’s contract might’ve slipped through my fingers, but I’m not done, and I won’t be ending the night empty-handed.

No, the next thing I take tonight is a mouthy little blond with sharp green eyes and absolutely no idea what she’s getting herself into. Or hell, maybe I’m the one who has no idea what I’m getting myself into. Either way, I can’t wait to find out.

3

LYRA

Tonight has been insane.

Black Velvet has been at capacity since 7 p.m., and now as the clock ticks closer to two in the morning, there’s no sign of it slowing down. On nights like this, I will usually stay late, help out where I can, and keep on top of all the tasks so when the girls are closing, it’s quick, easy, and they can get out of here as soon as possible. But tonight is not that night.

This bar will be chaos right up until Marcus and Dean are kicking people out into the street, and as much as I enjoy watching when that happens, tonight I’m making time for myself. While Marcus and Dean are hustling people out the door, I will hopefully have my knee up near my head while Hunter bends me into a pretzel and fucks me until my soul is levitating outside of my body. That is the only acceptable way for me to finish out my night. I won’t allow anything less.

I can’t lie, since the moment Hunter appeared at my bar, I was obsessed. I needed to feel his hands on my body, needed to feel the way he would work me, and damn it, I’ve been in a perpetual state of wetness ever since. And it’s got nothing to do with my water-soaked tank.

Everything is throbbing, and believe me, that’s not something I admit to lightly. The word throbbing belongs firmly in the trash, right along with moist and folds. But yes, it is what it is. I am absolutely throbbing. Everything is just one big pulsation, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve considered locking myself in my office just to get by, but why would I ruin my appetite right before the main meal?

I’ll be honest, if Hunter is all talk and can’t walk the walk, I’m going to be pissed. I need that man to thoroughly exceed expectations, otherwise, I might explode. I don’t think my fingers or the toys in my bedside drawer have what it takes to accomplish the level of heat I need to satisfy me tonight, but I have a feeling that Hunter will pull through. I don’t know what it is about him, but I just know. I can feel it.

I’ve barely had a full conversation with the guy, but from what little I’ve managed to work out, he rocks that confidence the way I rock this bar, and confidence like that only comes when you know you’re a sure thing.

Damn it, he could just sit and watch me with those deadly eyes, and I’d surely combust.

These past few hours have nearly killed me. Watching the clock, waiting for it to tick closer to two in the morning, has felt like a death sentence. I’ve never known time to move quite so slowly at Black Velvet, but now, as I wave goodbye to the girls behind the bar, I couldn’t be more ready.

It feels wrong to leave like this. I’m usually the last one through the door. Even if my shift finishes at twelve or two, I generally end up heading back into my office and working on stock orders, payroll, or next week’s roster. There’s always something to do, but I like it that way. I crave that sense of purpose. But tonight, I’m craving something else, something that’s big and juicy and bound to leave me screaming.

God, I can’t wait!

Heading into my office, I pull the door closed behind me and tear my wet tank over my head. Since Hunter left a few hours ago, I’ve had to perform my sexy “Toxic” dance no less than three more times, but it’s worth it to watch the tips roll in for my girls every time I pour jugs of water over my tits.

I usually don’t bother to get dressed after my shift. I just go home wet and take a hot shower, but tonight is different. I want him to look at me like I’m the tastiest little snack. I need him frothing at the mouth, desperate to get through dinner and a drink just so he can sink his teeth into me, and in order to do that, I can’t look like a drowned rat.

It’s a shame though. Drowned rat is my specialty.

Digging through the array of clothes I keep in my office, I find a cute black corset top and wrap it around my body before clasping the tiny hooks and grinning at the way my full tits sit inside the top. Then I switch out my wet work pants for a black leather mini skirt and my thigh-high boots.

Taking a quick glance in the mirror on the back of my office door, I ruffle up my hair just a bit, taking it from business to casual in the blink of an eye, letting my soft blond waves flow free before adding just a hint of cherry lip gloss.

I smile at myself, my heart already racing with anticipation, and after taking a quick glance at the time and the surveillance feed of my bar and making sure everything is as it should be, I grab my jacket and haul ass out of here.

The cocky bastard better hope that he’s ready for a woman like me, because if he’s not, I’ll have no problem chewing him up and spitting him back out. I’ll have him on his knees before he can even blink, and if he can’t handle it, then he better not be out here trying to waste my time.

Weaving my way through the chaos and back out to the bar, I check in with my staff one more time. When I look down at my phone, a grin rips across my lips.

Two a.m. on the dot.

Just as I turn to head for the door, I see him across the bar, looking just as delicious as he had when his tongue was rolling up my inner thigh, lapping up every drop of water on my skin.