Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 50
“You look happy,” he says with a suspicious tilt of his head.
“I’m not allowed to be happy?”
“Sorry,” he grins. “I’ve only known you two days, but you’ve been pretty upset each time we talked. What’s changed? Your employer treating you better?”
Hmmmm… suspicious guy number two. I bet Spencer has paid this guy off as well. I bet Spencer is behind the whole apartment being condemned and my awesome new digs.
He’s gonna pay so bad for doing this to me.
“Well…” I sigh deeply and lower my eyes. “No, he’s not been very nice to me today at all. But I’ve been looking forward to this dinner. It’s been so long…” I let my words trail off to see if Bobby catches my drift.
“Long?”
“Yeah,” I say in my best pouty bombshell voice. “Long. Since anyone paid much attention to me.”
“Spencer Shrike ignores his girlfriends? I find that hard to believe. He comes off as a player to me. Kinda like the rest of his gang.”
Gang? Ronin and Ford? That’s above my pay grade so I ignore that remark. “I’ve heard he treats his girlfriends nice too. He dates the cashier over at Big City burrito every week. You should ask her if he’s a good boyfriend. Because when I was dating him, he wanted to f**k me and paint and that’s about it.”
Bobby’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I do a little mental cheer.
“Yeah, I know,” I add. “He dates the bartender over at the Cat Call Club too. She’s totally his type. He used to make me pole dance for him all the f**king time. Like every night.”
“Really?” Bobby unconsciously leans forward.
“Yup. Fucking, nude body painting and pole dancing. That was the extent of my relationship with Spencer Shrike.” I smile sweetly. “But that was a long time ago.”
Bobby nods slowly and I wonder if he’ll be a total copout like Carson, or…
He walks slowly towards me, his eyelids half closed as he takes me in. He stops a few feet away, and I look up into his eyes, then swallow hard at his heated stare. “Veronica Vaughn,” his deep voice rumbles, betraying a building desire. “Are you trying to play me?”
I clear my throat as he steps closer. Well, I guess he’s not the type of guy who runs away from a little femme fatale action. “Should I be offense or defense?” I snap back.
“Offense, Veronica. Always, always be offense.” He takes another step closer and then wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me towards him.
Oh, shit.
“Hmmm,” he growls in my ear. “You better be careful, Bombshell,” he whispers. “I’m not what you think.” He dips his head down, and my gaze drops to his mouth as my tongue sweeps over my lips. “Do you still want to have dinner with me?”
I drag my eyes away from his mouth, even though he still hovers close and when my chin tips up, there is a fraction of a moment when he rests his forehead against mine.
“Are you trying to scare me off?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“Yes,” he says, his grip on the back of my neck growing tighter.
“It’s working.” My chest is heaving now and he can’t stop the downward migration of his stare. Curse my big tits.
“Good,” he says as he releases me and backs off. “Good. Because I’m not a player, Veronica. I’m just a practical guy who gets the job done.”
What job? I think it, but I don’t say it.
“So I’ll ask you one more time, Bombshell. Would you like to come over for dinner?”
I pause, breathe, then pause again. “Just dinner?”
He laughs and the smile I found alluring this morning is back, the scary dark side I just witnessed gone. “Veronica, if I ask you to come for dinner, then I’m only asking you to come for dinner. I don’t deal in pretenses. I deal in truth. And I expect truth in return. So let’s try this again. Are you in a relationship with Mr. Shrike?”
“Why are you so interested?” He’s fishing, I realize. He thinks I know what they do in their little Team business.
“Yes. Or. No.”
“No,” I say honestly. “I told you, I was, but now I’m not. Not for a very long time now. He broke it off with me more than a year ago.”
“Why?”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t think so, buddy. If you want someone to feed you information, use the internet like everyone else.”
“What if I give you something in return?” He steps forward again.
“Like what?” I know it’s all kinds of wrong, but I can’t help myself. I am getting all sorts of weird feelings about this guy, and none of them are the fun and flirty kind. I need to know what the f**k is going on. “You’ve got the hot and dangerous vibe going for you, but I’m not interested in a pity f**k.”
He laughs again. “No, Bombshell. I—”
“And why are you calling me that? That’s a real nickname I have and you should not—”
“Shhh,” he says as his fingers silence my lips. “It’s rude to interrupt.”
I smack his hand away. “It’s rude to shush someone too. Especially if you touch them.”
“I thought you said you were scared of me?” he smiles.
“I’m over it. I might be a girl, and I might look stupid and helpless because I have big tits and blonde hair. But I don’t go down without a fight.”
“I’m not allowed to be happy?”
“Sorry,” he grins. “I’ve only known you two days, but you’ve been pretty upset each time we talked. What’s changed? Your employer treating you better?”
Hmmmm… suspicious guy number two. I bet Spencer has paid this guy off as well. I bet Spencer is behind the whole apartment being condemned and my awesome new digs.
He’s gonna pay so bad for doing this to me.
“Well…” I sigh deeply and lower my eyes. “No, he’s not been very nice to me today at all. But I’ve been looking forward to this dinner. It’s been so long…” I let my words trail off to see if Bobby catches my drift.
“Long?”
“Yeah,” I say in my best pouty bombshell voice. “Long. Since anyone paid much attention to me.”
“Spencer Shrike ignores his girlfriends? I find that hard to believe. He comes off as a player to me. Kinda like the rest of his gang.”
Gang? Ronin and Ford? That’s above my pay grade so I ignore that remark. “I’ve heard he treats his girlfriends nice too. He dates the cashier over at Big City burrito every week. You should ask her if he’s a good boyfriend. Because when I was dating him, he wanted to f**k me and paint and that’s about it.”
Bobby’s eyebrows hit the ceiling and I do a little mental cheer.
“Yeah, I know,” I add. “He dates the bartender over at the Cat Call Club too. She’s totally his type. He used to make me pole dance for him all the f**king time. Like every night.”
“Really?” Bobby unconsciously leans forward.
“Yup. Fucking, nude body painting and pole dancing. That was the extent of my relationship with Spencer Shrike.” I smile sweetly. “But that was a long time ago.”
Bobby nods slowly and I wonder if he’ll be a total copout like Carson, or…
He walks slowly towards me, his eyelids half closed as he takes me in. He stops a few feet away, and I look up into his eyes, then swallow hard at his heated stare. “Veronica Vaughn,” his deep voice rumbles, betraying a building desire. “Are you trying to play me?”
I clear my throat as he steps closer. Well, I guess he’s not the type of guy who runs away from a little femme fatale action. “Should I be offense or defense?” I snap back.
“Offense, Veronica. Always, always be offense.” He takes another step closer and then wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me towards him.
Oh, shit.
“Hmmm,” he growls in my ear. “You better be careful, Bombshell,” he whispers. “I’m not what you think.” He dips his head down, and my gaze drops to his mouth as my tongue sweeps over my lips. “Do you still want to have dinner with me?”
I drag my eyes away from his mouth, even though he still hovers close and when my chin tips up, there is a fraction of a moment when he rests his forehead against mine.
“Are you trying to scare me off?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“Yes,” he says, his grip on the back of my neck growing tighter.
“It’s working.” My chest is heaving now and he can’t stop the downward migration of his stare. Curse my big tits.
“Good,” he says as he releases me and backs off. “Good. Because I’m not a player, Veronica. I’m just a practical guy who gets the job done.”
What job? I think it, but I don’t say it.
“So I’ll ask you one more time, Bombshell. Would you like to come over for dinner?”
I pause, breathe, then pause again. “Just dinner?”
He laughs and the smile I found alluring this morning is back, the scary dark side I just witnessed gone. “Veronica, if I ask you to come for dinner, then I’m only asking you to come for dinner. I don’t deal in pretenses. I deal in truth. And I expect truth in return. So let’s try this again. Are you in a relationship with Mr. Shrike?”
“Why are you so interested?” He’s fishing, I realize. He thinks I know what they do in their little Team business.
“Yes. Or. No.”
“No,” I say honestly. “I told you, I was, but now I’m not. Not for a very long time now. He broke it off with me more than a year ago.”
“Why?”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t think so, buddy. If you want someone to feed you information, use the internet like everyone else.”
“What if I give you something in return?” He steps forward again.
“Like what?” I know it’s all kinds of wrong, but I can’t help myself. I am getting all sorts of weird feelings about this guy, and none of them are the fun and flirty kind. I need to know what the f**k is going on. “You’ve got the hot and dangerous vibe going for you, but I’m not interested in a pity f**k.”
He laughs again. “No, Bombshell. I—”
“And why are you calling me that? That’s a real nickname I have and you should not—”
“Shhh,” he says as his fingers silence my lips. “It’s rude to interrupt.”
I smack his hand away. “It’s rude to shush someone too. Especially if you touch them.”
“I thought you said you were scared of me?” he smiles.
“I’m over it. I might be a girl, and I might look stupid and helpless because I have big tits and blonde hair. But I don’t go down without a fight.”
