“You’re in Raven Falls now, lady. We look after our own.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. “I’m not sure I’m?—”
“Nope. Consider this your adoption. No arguing. Now get your ass inside and get some rest because right now, you look like the grenade won.”
A burst of laughter slips free, startling me and making him grin.
I look down at the card in my hand and study his name before nodding. “Thanks, Don. I appreciate it.”
He salutes me with two fingers and watches as I climb out, tugging my bag with me. I close the door and give him a little wave with my good arm, expecting him to leave, but he doesn’t. With a frown, I head to the reception area and pull the door open. As I step through, I look back, and that’s when he finally pulls away.
Bemused, I head to the counter to check in. The guy behind it runs his eyes over me, clearly not put off by my appearance if the lick of his lips is anything to go by. Poor kid probably thinks his limp dick energy is going to make me drop these panties. But after all the bullshit with Lee, I metaphorically welded on a chastity belt. It would take more than his tickle pickle to unlock it.
“You’re a day late.”
I stare at him because it annoys the shit out of me when people state the obvious.
“I could have rented your room out.”
Lord, spare me from idiots. It almost makes me want to try my luck with grenades again.
“But you didn’t. I paid in advance so the room is mine regardless of when I check in.”
“That’s not how it works, little lady.”
I blink, pretty sure my brain just glitched. There is no way he just called me that. Seriously, grenades are looking better and better by the second. Hell, I might try juggling with a couple. Give a twist to the game of Russian roulette.
“Listen, boy, all I want is my room key and for you to point me in the right direction.”
He holds up his hands in a “don’t shoot” manner, his lips twitching as if this is all foreplay to him.
“Maybe I could show you personally. We could come to an arrangement. Perhaps I could give you a discount.”
“The only discount you’ve ever given in your life is a five-fingered one. The same five fingers that can probably wrap around your dick twice. I don’t need a discount, I’ve already paid. And unless you’re going to convince me you’re the owner of this place, I’d quit while you’re ahead. This qualifies as sexual harassment and I’m not above beating down perverts, even if I have to use a purple cast to do it.”
He leans over the counter in a clearly hostile manner. The last shreds of my sanity snap. I grab him by the collar and have the knife out of my pocket and pressed against his throat before he can get a word out.
“I bet my prick’s bigger than yours,” I tease, amusement riding me hard at the ridiculousness of this whole damn thing. “Word of advice: know your prey. I’ve been bent, broken, and left bleeding by bigger badasses than you. I’ve had not one, but two houses burn to the ground, taking everything I own with it. I married a killer, and walked away from a pissed-off MC when they wanted nothing more than to choke the life right out of me.” I press in close, my lips a scant inch from his ear.
“I held my best friend at gunpoint, stole a live grenade, and blew myself the fuck up. I dare you to try me, motherfucker.” I press the knife in just enough to nick his skin. He whimpers as the smell of urine fills the air. I let him go and shove him back.
He looks at me like he wants to hide under the counter. I should feel bad. I might be a bitch, but it’s mostly a self-preservation mechanism. If I don’t get close to people, they can’t fuck me over. My point is, I don’t go out of my way to terrorizepeople. That being said, not every woman this guy messes with will find him lacking. I could easily see him pressing his advantage on a young girl down on her luck, or running from something that already makes her vulnerable. I doubt he’d lose any sleep over what he would do to them, and it doesn’t take much for an interest into a hobby. Pretty sure that’s what turns a murderer into a serial killer.
“Key?” I hold out my hand. He fumbles around for it, dropping it into my hand before he mutters something about having a good day and disappearing out back.
I snort. “Well, that wasn’t on my bingo card.” Though, to be fair, my bingo card has been looking like a disaster game of survival lately.
“And I don’t even win a prize at the end for not dying. How fucking rude,” I mutter as I head toward the rooms, following the signs for the number on the key.
I get turned around twice because I have the directional skills of an opossum on meth, but eventually I find my room. I unlock the door and walk in. It looks clean and tidy, and the furniture is modern. Right now, that’s good enough for me.
I lock the door behind me and walk over to the desk after dumping my bag on the floor. I take the chair from the desk, drag it over to the door, and wedge it under the handle. I’d be surprised if limp dick energy tried anything, but it costs me nothing to be cautious.
With that done, I strip out of the hoodie, slipping the knife under the pillow, just in case, and kick off my sneakers and sweatpants. I leave the T-shirt on, pull back the covers, and climb in. My grand escape took more out of me than I thought. The doctors said I would tire easily, but this is getting ridiculous. I feel like I’m two steps away from a blue rinse andMurder She Wrotereruns. Though if I can’t be Betty White when I grow up, I’d happily be Angela Lansbury.
I drift off to sleep with an amused smile on my face, only to wake up what feels like minutes later when I hear the sound of a bike engine outside.
“There is no way…” I climb out of bed and walk over to the window, peeking through the drapes. The sun is just cresting on the horizon. It’s later, well, earlier than I thought it was.
