Page 2 of Ghost

Fight tore through her senses.She jerked up her knee, connecting with his junk.He grunted and pinned her knee down with his.

Then, as if something had struck him, he froze.

***

Ghost didn’t move.Adrenaline and rage had dimmed his awareness.But now, he was keenly aware of how fine the bones of the wrist in his palm were.

Clearly fucking female.As was the rest of her slim, firm body.She kicked and squirmed like a rabid animal hungry to infect him.

His balls ached from where she’d gotten in a shot, but the fury pulsing behind his eyelids rivaled the pain in his testicles.He stared down at the bitch beneath him.

Her chest heaved.The suit she wore molded to her curves.His rage increased.

Many men had come for his life, but a woman?

He yanked off her mask, and she let out a cry.Her hair was pulled back tightly from ivory cheeks.Her free hand raked at his face but he dodged her nails and caught her arm.Holding both her wrists in one palm, he reached for the bedside light.

Almond-shaped cool-blue eyes stared at him with fire.“Let me go.”

His ire raised.He tightened his hold until her features softened into a wince.“Who the hell are you?”he snarled.

Her lip curled.“The last person you’re going to see before I slit your throat,” she spat.

His vision tunneled.Anger fizzled along his nerve endings.If he’d been holding a man, he’d have crushed his fucking windpipe minutes ago.

Answers.That’s what he needed from her.A name.Then he’d dispose of the scheming wench who’d just tried to inject him with god knew what.

He stretched for the needle that he’d thrown and held it in front of her face.

She blinked.Her blue eyes were sharp but oddly fearless.

“Care to tell me what’s in this?”

“Potassium chloride.”Her voice was as smooth as silk—and as unfazed as a scientist talking about chemistry.

“To stop my heart.”

She blinked.

The tunnel vision returned.He brought the tip of the needle to her throat and leaned in close.“Right here?”he whispered, near her face.“That’s where you put it, right?”

There was tremor in her legs, but otherwise she didn’t flinch.

He could end this right here and now.Shoot her up with the fucking drug that’d mirror a heart attack—an assassin’s choice—only then he wouldn’t find out who’d come for him.And when they discovered she hadn’t been successful, they’d send someone else.

Which meant he had to leave Seattle.Soon.

However, if he got a name and confirmed it was one of his enemies, he’d know who to go after.He straightened and dropped the needle to the ground.Her body relaxed marginally and he hauled her to her feet.

She cried out as he twisted her arms behind her back.He ignored her.Every male instinct made him want to loosen his grip or drop his hold altogether.He didn’t.

He noted the blue latex gloves on her slim hands.The booties over her feet.The tight bun in a hairnet.Irritation and, hell, appreciation struck him.

Whoever the woman was, she was tough.If he were someone who lacked the skills he possessed, she’d have won.

He dove his hand into his nightstand drawer and pulled out his SIG.He clicked off the bedside lamp.

“Move,” he growled, shoving her forward.