Malik stopped a few feet away. He had his gun out and aimed. “You good?” he demanded of Agnes.
Not really, she wasn’t. And sometimes, she did get tired of pretending that she was. When I get really tired, I like to go out and have hot hookups with MC leaders.
Nope. Not multiple MC leaders. Just with one.
Cass.
But that would be far too much info for poor Malik, so she simply replied, “Absolutely. I’m good. Always good.”
A phone began to ring.
Some cops wandered out of the hangout bar. They weren’t wearing uniforms, but she could always spot a cop from a mile away. Detectives, with loose coats and wrinkled pants. They stiffened when they saw the scene unfolding, then began to rush toward them.
The phone kept ringing. It was coming from the assailant in front of her. Curious…a call right after he’d been slicing at her with his knife. A knife that was still just a few feet away. “I can’t help but wonder, is that someone calling to confirm the hit? To confirm that little old me is as dead as can be?”
The phone rang again.
Agnes waved toward the perp. “Why don’t you answer that call?”
“You do it, bitch!” he snarled. “You answer it!”
Oh, well, if he was going to give her permission, then she definitely would. “Keep your gun on him, would you, Malik?” As if she had to ask, though. Malik never lowered his guard.
She closed in. She plucked the phone from the pocket of the biker’s battered jacket. She swiped her finger over the screen. Turned it on speaker so they could all hear the conversation. “I’m sorry,” she began, voice friendly and warm, “but the would-be killer you’re trying to contact is unavailable at the moment…”
“Agnes?”
She blinked.
“Agnes, is that fucking you?” Cass demanded.
“Uh, yes. It’s me. Hi.” Oh, he was growly. She’d missed that growly voice.
“You’re in danger.” A snarl.
She surveyed the scene. Lots of cops. Her partner at the ready. The perp with his hands up and his knife no longer heading for her. Hmm. She should really frisk him now to make sure there were no other weapons on him. She’d bet the guy had other weapons. “I’m kinda busy right now. How about we talk later?”
“He wants to kill you.”
“Already tried. No worries. I stopped him.” How had Cass gotten the number for her attacker?
“I’m coming to you,” Cass said. Flat. Hard. “On my way.”
Nope. He probably did not want to do that. Not with all the police around. “This is not really your scene?—”
He hung up. Incredibly rude. She shrugged.
But she realized the perp was watching her way too closely. “Weakness,” he whispered. Then he smiled.
She wasn’t afraid of much in this world. But that smile…that one word…A shiver skated down her spine.
Her gaze darted over the jerk who loved to slice with his knife. A knife was her least favorite weapon of choice. Mostly because she’d never, ever be able to forget what it felt like to have a blade plunging into her again and again. Her gaze went to the big hands that were still up in the air. The sleeves of his shirt and jacket had fallen down, and she could just make out a tattoo swirling around the perp’s right wrist.
Her breath caught. She stepped closer to him.
A snake tattoo. Black ink. Intricate scales on the snake. And…two heads. She was staring at a two-headed, snarling cobra. Both heads showed razor sharp fangs ready to bite. The tattoo was clearly visible beneath the glow of the street light.
“See something you like?” the bastard mocked.
