Page 47 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
I grit my teeth. Portia never would've pulled this crap. She could be a total bitch sometimes, but we were always hot for each other. She understood my monster. And Natalia doesn't? I cross my arms over my chest, continuing to scowl as Mace gazes down at Natalia like she's the universe's personal gift to him.
"Are you two done eye-fucking each other?" I snap, and both of them turn to give me a pair of matching looks dipped in skepticism.
"Really, Arsen? Reverting back to high school insults because I turned you down last week? Get over yourself." Natalia tosses her freshly colored and cut hair, further pissing me off and making me feel just a tad ... murderous. I cock the rifle in my hands and then head outside, ignoring Mace's narrowed eyes.
First deer I see is getting it right between the eyes. But aww, don't worry, we'll eat it, too. I'm a very good butcher.
Hawke is waiting on the porch when I pause near the front steps, glancing over to see his gray eyes locked on mine.
"Don't you do anything out there that we'd both regret," he says, and I grin, just to annoy the fuck out of him. "If you hurt Mace or Natalia ..."
"Oh, come now, if former Vice President Dick Cheney can accidentally shoot his buddy in the face during a quail hunting trip, then surely I could blow Mace away and plead accidental fire?" Hawke pushes off the column he's leaning against and gets right up in my face. I enjoy stirring up his temper; I consider it a favor, since the guy's so uptight all the goddamn time. He should fucking thank me for the privilege.
Hawke closes the distance between us so quickly that I have no choice but to drop the cigarette I was just about to light and move back a step. He keeps coming, and I realize I've got two choices: fight him off or let him grab me.
I decide on the latter, just for fun, and grunt as he grabs me around the throat and slams me into one of the white porch columns. Those severe gray eyes of his bore into my face as I grin.
"You listen to me, you little psycho, I've been more than accommodating when it comes to that fucked-up brain of yours, but I'm done with it. You will follow orders, or I will put you in the ground and piss on your grave."
"Did it hurt a nerve then?" I purr, digging out another cigarette and lighting it up as Hawke puts even more pressure on my throat. "Hearing Natalia call you out for being a shitty leader? A good one never would've let Portia die."
Hawke leans in with his full body weight and cuts off my supply of oxygen. Doesn't phase me. I'm not afraid to die, and he should damn well know that by now. He maintains that stare of his as I put the cigarette to my lips and hold it there. Can't inhale, but at least as it burns, the smoke wafts up into my leader's face. He smacks it away after a moment, and I can feel my body start to rebel against the lack of oxygen. Eventually, I'll start fighting back, and I won't have any control over that; I might not care if I live or die, but my body sometimes has opinions of its own.
My vision starts to go, and my hearing dims, but then the front door opens and there's Natalia, a rifle strapped to her back, her big, fat brown doe eyes wide with shock.
"Hawke! Let him go!" She lunges at Hawke, grabbing onto his arm. She may as well be pushing at bricks, but he relents and releases me, spinning on Natalia as I sag against the column, sucking in several deep breaths and grinning like I've lost my mind.
Maybe I have?
Or maybe it's just broken. It wasn't always this way, I don't think. But my childhood is a black hole that I can't see into, no matter how hard I try. There's nothing there, just emptiness. I imagine something bad happened to me, and that's why I am the way I am, but at this point, who gives a fuck?
"Stand down, soldier," Hawke snarls, getting toe-to-toe with Natalia as Mace lumbers outside and sneers, hitching his gun up his broad shoulder. He flicks a spare glance my way, but I'm pretty sure there's not a person on this earth he hates more than me. He quickly turns back to what I'm certain is brewing into an all-out brawl.
"Don't get pissy with Arsen just because you're angry with me," Natalia growls right back, lifting her chin in defiance. That pretty chocolate hair of hers is pulled back into a high pony, and if I weren't crumpled on the goddamn floor trying to regain my breath, I'd probably fantasize about pulling it. Why the fuck would she bother defending me? I wonder, pushing up to my feet. "So what? I didn't let you screw me against the side of the car while being a total prick? Get over yourself, Hawke!"
