Page 84 of Chad's Chase

FIFTEEN

And mortal life shall cease…

Islept in late the next day.

After all, it was around 3am when Chad kicked me out of his room, and around 4:30am when I caved to sleep.

Now it was noon. Hot noon. The sun at its peak in the center of that inimitable blue expanse called sky, burning into the clouds; the stronger the sun’s heat, the puffier and whiter the clouds’ boast.

Simply put, the noon was beautiful. Hot as a dragon’s tongue, but beautiful.

By the time I was showered and dressed in shorts and tank top, my love/hate from the night before was no more, leaving only the love. I was hoping Chad was done hating me, too. Because, honestly, we were like two idle teenagers.

Murderous teenagers, of course, but still…considering our past jobs, slitting throats, pulling triggers, blowing marrows and all, we should at least be acting a little more mature than this.

Catching my hair up in a ponytail, I started out of the room and stopped short when I noticed a guy moving down the hall toward Chad’s bedroom. He seemed less like an assassin looking to complete his objective, and more like a playboy in washed-out raggedy jeans, Timberlands and graffiti T-shirt.

Looping my ponytail in a bun, I directed my steps down the hall to Chad’s bedroom instead of my original path, tiptoeing behind the guy.

Unless he was here to kill Chad, what business did he have in his bedroom? And where the hell was Ronnie? I thought this place was supposed to be a fortress.

Chad’s bedroom door made only a faint creak when the guy pushed it open, and he walked in freely, like he knew the place as well as he knew the veins on his dick. Heading straight to the dresser, he opened a wooden box which was sitting on the center, and took out something jingly, like keys.

By the time he made to turn around, I was right there, my right forearm jamming to his chest, driving him back with a wretched force until he was slammed back against the wall.

“Who are you and what are you doing in this room?” I demanded.

The guy stared down at me without fear or surprise, and,holy wow, he was like a fucking Roman prince he was so hot. His gold eyes shone paranormally, like a mythical vampire’s, his lashes long and unnatural, his hair sandy-brown and waving loosely past his shoulders.

Full, impressionable lips curved up into a crooked grin, as he drawled sexily, “You’re her, aren’t you? The Killing Byrd.”

“The what?”

When he did nothing but stare down at me with that damn disarming grin of his, I eased my elbow off his chest, but kept my body firmly pressed against him to ensure he remained where I pinned him. I reached down the length of his right hand that clutched the thing he stole from the wooden box on the dresser and pried his fist open. He obliged without a fight or struggle.

A keyring with four regular-sized copper keys on it.

“What are these keys for?” I questioned. “What do you want with them? And how did you get in here?”

Roman Prince’s gold gaze drifted down to where my body was pressed up tightly against his, and he shifted uncomfortably, making a strange groan in his throat, like a rapacious fat kid afraid of touching the mouth-watering chocolate cake dangling in front of him, knowing he’ll get into big, big, trouble if he ever dares.

“Look,” he said in a strained voice, “you’re pretty, and you’ve got areallynice rack, but I’ve got a super-crazy British wife downstairs waitin’, and I don’t think she’d be too happy ‘bout the way your tits are pressed up against me right now.”

Okay, so he and his wife were the Bonnie and Clyde type of assassins—or key thieves.

Running out of patience, I jammed my forearm back to his chest, then with my other hand reached down and grabbed his nut sack through his jeans. “Listen up, you cocky shit, if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna rip your fucking balls off and feed them to you.”

Again, the dauntless SOB grinned at me, flashing straight white teeth, then suddenly yelled, “Chadrick! I’m being sexually harassed in here!”

What an arrogant shit! Irritated, I immediately removed myself from him then chucked his chest. “I wasn’t sexually harassing you!”

Brown eyebrows shot up, crooked grin still present. “No? Then what would you call all that just now? Throwin’ me against the wall and feelin’ me up?”

“I was—”

Chad came into the room just then, well-dressed, fresh and fuckable, looking between me and the insolent prick. “What—” he started to ask.

But Roman Prince cut him off by pointing a finger at me and accusing, “She grabbed my dick.”