Page 20 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
"Are you planning on killing my father? Hawke said something about being hired to kill him, but that could have just been like, a metaphor?" My words fall from my mouth like rocks, and I cringe when I hear them aloud. I sound stupid. Like a stupid, sheltered mob princess.
"Would that upset you?" Mace replies quietly, watching me with a gaze so intense it seems like he can see right into my soul. Like he’s stripping me bare with just his eyes.
I shudder again, then surprise myself by the honesty in my answer. "No."
My father, I've recently learned, is a cruel, unscrupulous man, and he deserves everything he has coming to him. Of that, I have no doubts. What surprises me is the lack of, well, any emotion when Mace speaks of my father’s impending death. Because that’s clearly what they've come for.
"Will you help us, then?" he continues, raking those intense eyes over my face, but I shake my head firmly.
"No. I won't help. I won't stand in your way, but you don't understand who you're dealing with. If you fail, like so, so many before you have, and then my father learns I helped you …" A third time, my body shakes with a shudder. "No, I'm sorry, and I wish you luck, but this is suicide."
Mace grunts noncommittally and then looks me over with a small sigh.
"You are skinny as fuck," he says, taking note of my tiny waist and thin wrists. More than one man in the past has made the mistake of thinking that means I'm weak. Far from it. There's so much more to conflict than physical strength; that's just one aspect. One aspect I wish I had, but still. "What the hell do you eat? Salad and croutons?"
A laugh bubbles past my lips as I run both hands down my face.
"Salad? I only wish I were that healthy. No, vodka and cocaine for dinner and breakfast. After breakfast, I'm usually passed out through lunch so …" I shrug again and cross my arms over my breasts, drawing Mace's attention to the full mounds. I'm lucky I have boobs at all, considering the rest of me is skin and bones.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, tilting his head to one side. The man is an utter monster. One of the biggest dudes I've ever seen, and I've been around a few thousand self-proclaimed badasses in my time. This guy, though, I have to remember how gently he held my naked, weeping form in the bathroom. There's something special about this one.
"I suppose …" I say, trying not to notice the hard spots of Mace's nipples beneath his dark blue t-shirt. He's wearing black slacks and boots now. I guess—like Colt said—there's no point in trying to pretend to be priests behind closed doors, right? "But there's nothing to eat here except uncooked pancake mix. And I'll be honest with you: I can't cook for shit, not even instant stuff."
Mace makes this grumbling sound that I'm pretty sure is a laugh, but … do mountains even laugh? I have no idea.
"Get dressed, and I'll take you out."
My brows perk up at that, and I take a step back, bumping into the refrigerator.
"I don't want to go out," I say, realizing suddenly how true that is. Even if this place is filled with a bunch of phony priests, my father is out there. And I'm not entirely sure what he'll do to me if I step out into the sunshine. Shoot me with a tranquilizer? Kidnap me? Would he let his men gang rape me? I have no idea, but I've seen him do all those things and worse to men … women … and children. Bile rises in my throat, and I turn away, closing my eyes against the horrific memories.
"You don't have to be afraid when you're with me," Mace says, reaching out a huge hand and using a single finger to turn my face toward him. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, but it's loose and easy to look at.
"Me, on the other hand, you should be terrified to be alone with." Arsen is leaning in the doorway, his back to the old wood casing, one boot propped up. As I turn to look at him, he licks the edge of a knife and my mouth drops open. His blonde hair is wet and hanging in his face. When our eyes meet, his grin is wicked and sharp and dangerous as hell.
My blood starts to pump, and my throat gets tight, but I'll admit it: I'm intrigued.
"Fuck off, Arsen," Mace snarls, that gentle giant facade falling away as he spins and spears the smaller, but equally deadly looking man with a look that could smelt metal. "Hawke's put me in charge of protecting the girl—and that includes from you."
