Ava Gray - Skin Game

“They win the Darwin Awards,” he put in, smiling.

She looked at him in surprise. “Yeah. Exactly like that. But when kids get sucked in, not knowing what they’re in for, it totally pisses me off.”

“So do you want to?” He met her gaze levelly.

“Want to what?”

“Burn the place down.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? That’ll have the real cops and firemen out here before we get far enough away. I don’t want to attract attention.”

She’d said “we,” he noticed. His smile widened into something sharp and feral. It demonstrated progress for her to incorporate him into her plan, and he intended to capitalize on this opportunity.

“Okay,” he said easily. “I’m gonna disconnect some stuff. You go on up.”

Too trusting, he decided, as she took the suggestion at face value. He could be stealing meth for all she knew. Instead he rerouted some things and lit a cigarette, leaving it burning in a fashion that would wind up working like a fuse. This place was going up, one way or another. He didn’t like drug dealers any better than Kyra did, so he’d work this like a freebie. Nobody was paying him for this job, but sometimes it was just good karma to offer your services gratis to the universe.

Before they left, he made sure the men were still unconscious. If one of them woke before the blast, well, he was welcome to try to find Reyes for some payback. That kind of thing made life interesting.

In the gravel parking lot, he had the odd feeling they’d played this scene once before, but he wouldn’t threaten her tires a second time. His rental car was still at the motel; he’d hitched a ride over, as that was more in keeping with his role.

“Fate brought us together again for some reason,” he said, lying through his teeth. “You walk on the wild side, you’re gonna hustle the wrong person someday, and then what? You need some muscle at your back, and I need wheels. Let’s see where it takes us. We don’t have to hook up again.”

His body protested immediately. Since he’d first seen her ponied up to the bar, he’d had an insane urge to shove her down and take her, any way she’d let him. The scratches she’d left on his shoulders stung a little—in the best possible way.

Damn, they didn’t have time to stand here talking about this. But she didn’t know that. He had to reel her in slowly, or she’d fight the capture.

“Get in,” she said finally. “We shouldn’t hang around here. And maybe you’re right. I never thought about taking on a partner before, but you might fit the bill.”

Her eyes slid over his shoulder, as if seeing someone who wasn’t there—a former cohort? Hell, maybe she’d killed him. Reyes rather liked the idea of living dangerously. He also liked that she didn’t bother to deny what he’d noticed her doing at the last bar.

“You know anything about the biz?” She went around the vehicle.

“Not really.” He slid into the Marquis on the passenger side. “But I learn fast. I can watch your back while you work and just jump in if something goes wrong.”

She started the car, backed it out faster than anyone he’d ever seen, and slammed the wheel so that they spun onto the road. He loved the way she drove, all attitude and swagger, underscored with complete control. Reyes would bet she knew this car better than most women knew their own anatomy. It made sense; she practically lived in it.

She thought for a while. Neither of them turned on the radio. They had come about a mile when a big orange glow and a distant boom rose up behind them. Kyra noticed it in the rearview and said, “What the hell did you do? I thought I said not to burn the place down!”

Reyes grinned. “I didn’t. I blew it up.”

Would she get all girly on him and cry? Oh, hell. Please, no. To his delight, she burst out laughing. “Ah, shit. So much for low profile, but they had it coming.”

Something tightened in his gut. After a moment, he identified the feeling as pure lust. Most females couldn’t stomach the things he did; most flinched away from his eyes, seeming to sense the kind of life he’d led. She was brash and brave and full of wickedness.

Damn, he wanted her.

He made himself speak casually. “There was enough chemical in that place that they won’t find any sign of us, even if you’re in the system.”

“Are you ?” she asked without looking away from the road.

She had to know the answer to that, if she had any skill at observation. But she didn’t seem to judge him for being an ex-con. Most people would.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve had military training,” she told him. “Probably not Special Forces. But I don’t think you enjoy taking orders. Is that why you opted out?”

“More or less.” It astonished him how much she’d picked up.

“And I think you must’ve gone East to study martial arts, the way you fight.”

“The East isn’t the only place you can learn.”

She picked up on the fact that he didn’t deny studying abroad. “Then where?”

“The Philippines,” he answered honestly. He didn’t let himself think about why he was answering her questions as Reyes. Maybe something told him she’d sense a lie. Professional liars often had a built-in bullshit detector, so whatever he said to her, he had to mean it. “Brazil. Indonesia.”

That was the key, he realized. She’d catch on to any elaborate ruse. To get to her, he had to be himself. In some ways, this would be the hardest job ever. He’d been pretending to be other people for so long, he didn’t even know who lived inside his own skin anymore.

“I thought I recognized some of your moves. Capoeira, combined with tarung derajat? Maybe some Jendo? You’ve blended the styles in a way I’ve never seen. But . . . it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful when you move.”

She didn’t seem to realize she’d just called him beautiful. In his experience, women didn’t think so. He scared the hell out of most of them. Reyes didn’t know how to respond to that, so he addressed the first part of what she’d said. “Yes, you caught all three. How’d you know? They’re not common.”

“I’m a fan.” Her dimples flashed as she smiled, cutting him an appreciative look. “UFC, mostly. I watch martial arts on ESPN whenever I get a chance.”

Mmm . He put himself in the picture beside her, a beer in one hand and her in the other. It was deliciously seductive. She’d clearly studied some herself, so maybe she’d even make a decent sparring partner. He could picture them on the mat, breathing hard as he took her down, fighting their way into the hardest, hottest sex ever. Her skin would shine with heat and exertion, sweaty-slick beneath him. She had a strong body, deceptively leggy. He wanted them wrapped around him.

Ah, damn. His cock went hard as a spike. He should not be thinking along those lines. Reyes shifted to cover the fact that he wanted to wrench the wheel, shove her into the backseat, and take her. By some miracle, he kept his breathing steady, though his hands curled into fists.

“I’m the brains,” she told him. “I’ve been doing this longer than you can possibly imagine, so I pick the targets. I plan the score. You just do as you’re told and maybe we can work something out. I’ll give you twenty percent to start.”

What just happened? She’d decided to hire him while he was thinking about sex? There was something to be said for keeping his mouth shut.

“Twenty-five percent,” he countered, knowing she’d expect it, which was why she’d lowballed him. “And we’ll renegotiate once I learn the ropes. This sounds like it’ll be dangerous.”

“Deal,” she said promptly, making him think he could’ve gone to thirty.