Page 1 of Dagger's Target
PROLOGUE
Katrina
This cannot be happening.
Oh my.
Nope. No way.
This is so unlike me.
I can’t believe I did this.
I’m blaming all of the tequila on the predicament that I find myself in right now.
It takes all my might not to actually freak out. Mostly because I don’t want to wake the sleeping beast next to me. When I say beast, I mean the man is big. Big and muscular.
Dark haired and completely gorgeous.
The reason I’d slept with him is . . .
I don’t even know. I’m so not a one-night stander. I’ve never done it before.
Guess now I can check that box off for life achievements. Not that I wanted it to be one of my many goals in this life.
UGH.
How do I get out of here without embarrassing myself?
Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping beast, I inch out of the bed, away from him. I don’t even remember his name, which is horrible. I mean, I know what he goes by, but I swear he’d given me his name last night when I asked him for it. Why can’t I remember?
Stupid tequila shots.
I accomplish the massive task of getting to the edge of the bed and out without waking him. Now I have to manage to find my clothes. I remember enough from last night that my panties were not going to be worth finding. He ripped them from my body while my skirt was around my hips. I knew they wouldn’t be salvageable.
I make quick work of finding my bra, putting it on, and yanking my skirt on. There’s no finding my shirt, so I grab one of his, not caring that I’m stealing it. I give a quick look back at the man sleeping in the middle of the bed.
God, he’s gorgeous.
Perfect specimen of a man.
But totally not for me.
I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t let myself get involved with a man, least of all one like him.
There was nothing wrong with him. He was perfect in every way, but me, I’m a total disaster. I’d screw him up just the way my mother did those around her.
I knew this. It’s why I don’t do relationships. It’s why I don’t allow myself to be involved with anyone. Also, why I don’t do this . . . one-night stands mean someone’s going to get hurt. I witnessed it far too much growing up, and I swore I wouldn’t be that type of person.
I was fine being who I am. I didn’t need anyone in my corner when I had myself to handle everything that needed to be done.
Gathering the rest of my stuff, I head for the door. I quietly open it and step out into the hallway. Once the door clicks shut,I walk as fast as my bare feet allow me to go. I didn’t even bother finding my sandals before getting out of his room.
All that mattered was getting out before anyone saw me.
I’m thankful that no one does as I rush through the main room of the clubhouse and out into the open, fresh morning air. The sun isn’t even up. It’s barely five in the morning, and we passed out maybe three hours ago. I never sleep long. I haven’t in years. My body is trained to no more than two or three hours tops at a time.
I needed to be able to sleep in short spurts growing up to survive. Sleep meant I was vulnerable to attack, and I knew it wouldn’t be good if I didn’t get any. Making it to eighteen was a Godsend in the Ray household.
