I nodded and accepted the cue he held out. We played for a while without talking. Either he preferred silence during the game or there wasn’t anything worth discussing with me, I respected his silence. Although there were several moments, I opened my mouth to ask what he planned for us then remembered his warning in the car and kept my mouth shut.
I was about to line up for the black ball when he startled me with, “you’re very mature for someone who just turned eighteen, Rayden.”
Straightening, I stared at him then his brow lifted, reminding me he’d asked a question. I shrugged. “I have traditionally inclined grandparents and a gentleman for a father, so my upbringing was—is...” I hesitated.
“Polished?”
Grinning, I leaned over the pool table again to take aim and froze when he moved closer, his body flush against mine as he guided my hand and shifted the cue. I turned my head, meeting his direct gaze unsure why he unsettled me. Maybe watching him take down a man still had my stomach roiling. If I looked closer, I’d probably find blood on his clothes. Even as the realization that he’d changed, snuck into my head, a tiny niggle warned that his killing was probably methodical and calculated. He wasn’t likely to get a spot on him.
“Take the shot,” he ordered, yet the look in his eyes was almost playful. I could be wrong but then he straightened not giving me a chance to confirm the notion.
I was immediately aware of his distinctly masculine cologne which seemed to merge with mine and left me skittish and closing my eyes. Austin’s condescending smirk reared its ugly head, filling my vision and baiting me to quit being a squirming jackass and face my fears. Shaking my head to concentrate, I heard Lorenzo’s soft laugh as he stepped away. The deep sound yanked at my ears, urging me to look up.
Baffled by the strange feeling settling between my shoulder blades, I avoided making eye contact, instead focused on the white ball in front of me. It wasn’t a difficult shot but considering I’d never gotten it right before, I suddenly wanted to pocket that ball.What the fuck?I resisted the need to scoff at my stupid desire to impress the man. Drawing in a deep breath, I pulled back the cue and released it. The snap of the tip hitting the smooth surface of the ball, loud in the silent room.
“Yes!” I shouted when the black ball dropped. Realizing I got it right because of his help, I looked up to find his gaze on me. Was that pride? “Thank you.” I couldn’t keep the delight out of my voice.
He cocked his head to one side and offered me the faintest of smiles. “It’s all in the angles. Get it right and you’d be surprised at the pleasure you’d unleash.”
I frowned, not understanding his explanation. Instead of elaborating, he turned away. I stared at the gun he withdrew from the waistband at the back of his pants and set on the counter. While I was no stranger to weapons, I’d never come this close to one that killed a man, an animal yes but not a living, breathing human being.
“Would you like to hold it?”
I shifted my gaze. Lorenzo watched me. Hands in his pants pockets, he leaned against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other. There was just something about him that had me questioning his effect on me. I might be kidnapped but every part of me wanted to be him, to equate his calm, his nonchalance. He was no bully who demanded. No. He was intimidation and power personified. His look alone could probably shrivel a man to his knees, but it was the regal way in which he held himself upright and even made a simple thing like shooting pool flawless, almost envious in its execution.
When I said nothing, he held out the gun. “Come here, Rayden,” the authoritative tone in his voice had my legs moving slowly toward him. He reached for my hand and I was suddenly conscious of the warmth of his fingers. Unsure if I was expecting the touch of a cold-blooded killer to be icy or not, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from pulling away. Lorenzo placed the gun in my palm and my hand dipped with the unexpected weight. As though he anticipated the drop, he moved his hand under and cupped mine.
“STI 2011 Combat Master,” despite the hard tone, his words were soft, a dire contrast to the voice I’d heard just before he shot a man without flinching. “Fast, accurate, dependable.”
“Wow,” I mumbled, trying my best not to sound excited but I failed. Lifting the gun for a closer inspection, I ran my fingers over the barrel engraved with his name, admiring the sleek weapon and wondering how many lives it had taken.
“Don’t think too hard,” his amused words had me lifting my eyes to his. “They were necessary in my world,” he answered my unasked question.
The look in his eyes, like he was daring me to handle the firearm without fear or maybe I was just reading the stare wrong, made me blink. My breath stalled in my throat.Crap.Was he a mind reader? The slow lift of an eyebrow told me he knew what I was thinking, leaving me unnerved at the same time curious.
Was it possible to be so in awe of a man that your whole body tingled with his proximity? Or just the way his lips quirked up at the corner instead of a smile had me staring. I’d never been in the company of dangerous men before but something about this man with his unsmiling features contrasted by warm blue eyes and daunting stance, made the appeal fascinating. Excitement coursed through my blood, prickling my skin and surprising me. Weirdly, I wanted to learn more, to learn everything about him. Was that crazy?
I had no fucking clue. And I probably never would because our lives, the circles we belonged to, would never entwine. My family was wealthy, well-known and respected while Lorenzo looked like he ruled an empire with an iron fist that demanded respect without asking.
Handing the gun back to him, I gulped when his large hand closed over mine, keeping the weapon in place. His rough fingertips pressing into the softer skin of my hand. I clenched my free hand trying not to shiver, my gaze falling to the black leather band around a thickly veined wrist. Intricate patterns that looked like they’d been etched into the thick fabric had me wanting to tilt my head to study the designs.
“You like it?”
I glanced back up. Lorenzo pointed to the wristband. “What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a lucky charm from my grandfather before his death.” He ran a slow finger over the edge of the band. The laugh slipped out before I could stop it. I didn’t think a man like him would need a lucky charm. He looked up, his expression unreadable. “It must’ve worked. The bastard died at seventy-two after surviving gunshots, knife wounds and a car bomb.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I never kid.”
I didn’t need the hard tone to convince me. “Sorry,” I said, not knowing why I felt the need to apologize.
“Apologies are for people who are afraid, Rayden.” Those unnerving eyes roamed over my face before meeting mine. “Do I scare you?” I swallowed the knot of anxiety sitting in my throat and nodded. “Why?” he asked, his tone lined with something I couldn’t decipher. When I didn’t respond, he released my hand I’d forgotten he was holding and stepped back. “Because I threatened you or because I’m a cold-blooded killer?” his words were annoyingly calm and again I found myself drawn to his control. Still, I didn’t reply. “Would you like to try it?”
“Try it?” I choked on the words and he frowned.
“Have you ever fired a gun?”
