Page 7

I did a quick calculation, deciding I had nothing to lose. “You’re right,” I said, even as I prepared myself for a move I’d done hundreds of times since basic training. I would be injured. There was no avoiding it, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I brought my hand up, thrusting it between the knife and my throat. The blade cut into my skin, but I was already using his surprise against him to twist out of his grip. An elbow to the face had him stumbling backwards and bought me enough time to roll off the bed. One smooth move had me back on my feet and facing him, knife still clutched in the hand that wasn’t bleeding. A quick glance down confirmed I’d live, that no arteries had been severed. It was going to make a mess of the carpet, but like Tobias had pointed out, it was his room, not mine.

Satisfied I hadn’t done any serious damage, I focused on Tobias, the two of us in a standoff as old as time, knives extended in front of us. He was dressed, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed and that he’d expected my arrival. “You knew I was following you.”

“I did. You weren’t that good at it.”

“When? In the alley?”

He laughed. “Before that. As soon as I left the bar. I only went down the alley to see if you’d make your move. What happened? Did you lose your nerve?”

“Too high a chance of you getting away,” I answered honestly. “I decided it would be wiser to wait.”

Tobias nodded. “A consideration, for sure.” He jerked his head toward the door without taking his eyes off me. “You picked the lock.”

“I did.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You came into my room without an invitation. I think I’m entitled to ask a few questions, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to answer them.”

Tobias nodded, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem unduly worried by the move I’d just pulled to put us back on an even footing. Not externally, anyway. No sweat. No signs of an accelerated heart rate. Still. Steady. Prepared. Dangerous. “How about an easier question?”

“That depends.”

“Your name, for a start. I’m assuming you know mine.”

“Tobias Breeze.”

“Tobias Breeze,” he agreed, the slight smile that pulled at his lips saying there was something amusing about it.

“Keaton Levine.”

“Pretty name.” His eyes didn’t say it was pretty. His eyes said he was calculating how the information might be useful.

I turned slightly to take in more of the room, Tobias turning with me, like we were part of a choreographed dance. The room was basic, without a lot of furniture, which made for few hiding places. A chest of drawers. A wardrobe. Under the floorboards, if he was creative enough.

He followed my gaze. “How about you tell me what you came for? Maybe I can help.”

I reached up to my neck with my free hand, brushing my hand over the spot where he’d held the knife. There was only the slightest smear of blood when I examined my fingers.

“Just a scratch,” he said with a level of amusement I didn’t appreciate.

“How about I just scratch you? Tit for tat.”

“Sure. If you can get close enough.” I moved, Tobias yet again moving with me to keep me in sight. “It’s late,” he said. “I was hoping to get some sleep tonight.” When I didn’t comment, he let out a sigh. “There are only three reasons you’re here.”

“And they are?”

“Option one, you saw me in the rain. Shirt so transparent you could see everything. Or so I’ve been told. And you thought you’d like a piece of me. But you’re not big on romance and taking it slow. You prefer the more brutish approach of breaking in and taking what you want.”

Despite the sharp stab of arousal his words evoked, I managed a snort. He was right about one thing. I might have been more interested in what he had and how to get my hands on it, but I had noticed the attractive picture he’d made, a passing thought occurring that in other circumstances he might have been someone I approached. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Option two, then. You want the money I made tonight?”

“No.”