Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I smiled. I had her right where I wanted her. “Wanna find out what I’m packing?”
Her eyes flared, like the challenge turned her on. “Yeah, I might like that.”
Hot, damn. I finally got her to agree to a date.
“Should we make it interesting?” she asked.
God bless every member of my team who kept their mouths shut and looked away. I didn’t need anyone telling her I was the team sniper. If she ever bothered to ask more personal questions about me, she might know that by now. But of course, she hadn’t.
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Best out of three.”
“And the bet?”
“Winner’s choice.”
Kennedy, who sat across from Megan, rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his smirk.
I knew they all thought I was going to try to win that bet.
I wasn’t. It was Megan’s to win. I would lose to her any day of the year. Every day of the year for the rest of my life. If winning made her happy, I’d be the loser. Hands down. No joke.
Because that meant she might get her hands–and mouth–on my squirt gun again.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
MEGAN
Having a key to the local gun range made it easy to practice whenever I wanted. It wasn’t like the owner was going to make the sheriff’s department staff pay. So, I used my key to unlock the place after hours.
It was just me and Hayes, our weapons and a few boxes of bullets.
The building was on the edge of town, low and squat. Since winter lasted nine months of the year in Sparks, I was used to practicing here. I flicked on the lights and entered the shooting area. “All right Hayes, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Rafael,” he corrected, like me calling him Hayes annoyed him.
“Right. Rafael Reyes. What’s your middle name?”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to know.”
Ha. That meant it was something bad. I shouldn’t be so curious, but I was. I slipped my hand into his pocket and eased his driver’s license out of his wallet without removing it. Being trained as a pickpocket from a young age had few perks.
I held his license up to read aloud, “Rafael Rebel Reyes. Rebel? Really?”
“How did you get that?” He tried to snatch the license away, but I stepped back, swinging my hand in the air, away from his reach.
“Triple R’s!” I laughed and turned away from him, delighted when he used a martial arts move to whip me around and pin me against the wall, my wrist captured by his large hand. He pried the license from my fingers, his smile warm. “You’ve got skills, Hager, I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, now I’m Hager?”
He leaned in close and brushed his lips across mine. “Are you going to use my first name?”
“I was thinking I might call you Rebel,” I teased, snatching his lower lip between my teeth and tugging gently before I released.
He stamped his lips over mine, kissing me until I was breathless. Then he slowly eased back. “Call me Rebel, and you’re going to experience orgasm denial at a combustion-causing level.”
My nipples tingled at the threat. I opened my mouth to test him but closed it again. Orgasm denial didn’t sound like my thing.
“Come on, little thief. I want to see you shoot.” Hayes sauntered away and stepped into a booth and set his weapon on the high counter in front of him.
His nickname had me stilling, but he meant nothing by it. I shouldn’t have stolen his ID. It had been a stupid move that showed off some old skills people didn’t need to know about. Including–no especially–Hayes.
“So… winner’s choice, right?” I let it go and entered the booth beside him, setting my gun on the counter. With a flick of a switch, the target clip moved toward me. I waited then pinned a paper target to it. Hayes did the same.
“That’s right.” He leaned against the counter and faced me. Clearly, he wasn’t in any rush to shoot. “What’s your prize then?” he asked.
I shrugged. What did I want from him?
“Dinner?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not dating, Hayes.”
“Fine, not dinner. I’ll clean all your windows.”
“Not dating,” I said again.
“I have to do a hundred push-ups?”
I raked my gaze down his toned body. He was in jeans and a snug black t-shirt that only amplified the size of his pecs and biceps. “Somehow I don’t think that’s much of a hardship for you.”
He winked. “Okay, then I’ll… detail your car.”
“Not–”
“Dating,” he finished. “All you want me for is my dick?”
The way he asked, he should have been asking in jest, but I could tell that it perhaps bothered him. I’d made it clear, very clear, that I didn’t want more. He’d gone along with it, but he kept coming back, like a bad rash.
“And other things.” I pulled my mouth to the side and studied him. “You’re skilled with your hands. That tongue of yours should be registered as a weapon.”