Neither man responds, but they don’t have to. Capture. As in, take me, hold me, possibly torture me for information or worse. Like Reaper said, he may be so insanely angry at my betrayal, I could be used in his hunt.
Would he really do that? I hate the answer, so I shove it away and stalk toward the center of the room.
“Come on,” I say. “I will not die at the lodge because I didn’t train hard enough.”
“Are you sure?” Striker asks.
“I’m sure,” I say, squaring my shoulders, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, and placing my feet shoulder-width apart.
“Then, we continue,” Reaper says, and I swear he’s smirking under that mask. “You think you can handle us both?”
“I have before.”
Striker’s soft chuckle makes me grin.
“Then we continue, Kitten,” Reaper says. “No holding back. We won’t be gentle.”
I give him a smirk of my own. “You never are.”
Chapter 23
Cora
“Ithinkasemi-automaticismy second favorite thing to hold,” I say, adjusting my aim. When Clyde doesn’t respond, I lower the weapon and glance at him. “The first favorite thing I like to hold being co—”
“I fucking get it,” Clyde snaps, adjusting his earmuffs before he aims.
“Cocks,” I yell, just to make sure he can hear me. “I meant cocks, old man.”
Clyde unloads a few rounds into his target, then lowers his weapon, and gestures to me. I grin at his dry expression, and readjust my aim. Releasing a slow, steady breath, I pull the trigger. Bullets spray from the barrel in bursts, making my heart flutter as the target ripples, each shot landing near center. Satisfaction gathers in my belly when I place the rifle down and catch Clyde’s approving grin.
I remove my earmuffs and set them on the table next to the gun. We’ve been practicing all day, and my arms ache. Hell, we’ve been practicing all week, every minute of the day,from nearly sunup to sundown. I’ve not been allowed to go to the office, much less be anywhere near Rune, so I have zero information on his activities. But, Clyde has kept me busy, bringing me to his lair every day, saying it’s good enough for now since I can’t gather intel. My aim has improved, not that I was bad to begin with, and reloading now feels fluid and smooth.
Not that all this will do me any good. It’s not like I can stuff a semi-automatic into my purse before leaving for work to keep Rune at bay, but that little Glock 43 might work. If Clyde would ever let me leave his house, that is.
Picking up the Glock, I remove the magazine and reload, snapping it in place and taking aim, but not firing. I feel Clyde’s eyes on me, feel the words he’s not speaking. The same words that have floated in the air all week.I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t know.
Silently, I tell him back, It’s not your fault. I hid it from you. I wanted to protect you too. I wish you had never found out because the haunted look in your eyes kills me every time you look my way.
I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the pain settling there. “When is the meeting again?” I ask, keeping all those thoughts and silent wishes to myself. “The one—”
“It’s a simple meet and greet, and you’re not going,” Clyde interrupts. “We’ve already established—”
“I’m not going,” I agree. “I’m going to Rune’s house while you attend.”
“No,” Clyde says. “This is just a meeting with a potential client, and you—”
“Can’t hide forever,” I finish, raising a brow. “Rune will get suspicious if you stay hidden with me in your secret villain lair—”
“For fuck’s sake, girl, it’s not a lair or a secret and I—”
“And you look like you’re trying to keep me away from him—”
“I am.”
“And”—I lean forward, tapping my finger to his chin, which earns me a deadly scowl—“if you keep avoiding him, he’ll get paranoid. And a paranoid Rune means he’ll think I said something to you. Which means we’re both dead.”
Clyde stalks away, not answering as he hits a button to slide the target toward us. He knows I’m right. We’ve had this conversation so many times this week, it’s redundant and silly at this point.
