AllFreeNovel
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“How so?”
“Baxter, we’re on holiday. It’s a hundred degrees out—”
“Exaggeration.”
“And you’re dressed like that and bringing weapons everywhere. You don’t need them.”
“I disagree. If I didn’t need them, one wouldn’t be dirty right now. And what’s wrong with my clothes?”
“It’s hot and you’re wearing…” She waves her hands around at my clothes. “That.”
I frown at my outfit. It’s more or less what I always wear. Combat boots, tailored trousers, a white shirt and braces. The jacket felt too formal for the beach, and it is pretty warm, so I left it at the hotel.
“I rolled up the trousers and my sleeves.” I frown. “Send a message to the group chat.”
“What for?”
“Ask them to watch Phoenix.”
“They will anyway. This won’t take long.”
I stare at her until she flushes and realises my intent. Wordlessly she does as I say. When she swallows it reminds me of my blade pressed against the weasel’s throat and my dick twitches. I stare forlornly at my blades.
Raven notices and follows my gaze, giving the knives her own look of longing.
“Do you miss it?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“But you used to enjoy it.”
“I didn’t enjoy what I did to Michael. It wasn’t what I had planned. I wanted to enjoy it, to savour it when I finally figured out who killed Lizzie…”
I look away, something strange settling in my gut at those words. “But it didn’t play out like that. I was too busy fighting for my life.”
“You don’t just have to use knives to kill someone though.”
“I know.” She smiles. “The first time I met Thorn I threw a knife at him. Lopped a lock of his hair off.”
I laugh.
“Show me,” I say, getting to my feet and pressing a knife into her palm.
“What?”
“Show me what you can do with them.” My dick jerks to life at the blade in her hand. Fuck she looks good.
“What? No!”
“Come on.” I move to stand against the wooden wall and I hold out my hand against the smooth painted boards. “Between the fingers.”
“No way! I’ve not thrown a knife in years. I could hurt you!”
“Nah. Muscle memory will kick in. It’s like riding a bike.” She's still frantically shaking her head but I can see her eyes are sparkling and she’s not put the knife down. “I trust you.”
“I don’t trust myself.”
“Well, I have more than enough trust for both of us.” I realise how true those words are, I feel their weight. Can she? Does she realise what it cost me to say them, to feel them?
