Page 33 of Poison Touch (Monarch Vipers #1)

“Well, in my defense, it was the only class available when I signed up so late in the year.” Curious, I ask, “What about you?”

He sits up, crosses his legs at his ankles, and rests his arms on his bent knees. “I want to be exactly that. Well, an artist or a pro surfer. Or fuck, both. Why the hell not?”

I’ve only known him for a few weeks, but I can see that. “Not a professional MMA fighter?”

“Nah. It’s fun and all, but I’m not a lifer like Edge or Kade.”

Lifer? Like Python? Python fought with the ferocity of a killer, not someone who’s in it just for fun. This conversation just keeps getting more interesting by the topic.

Speaking of Edge, I want to ask where he is this morning or what he did this weekend. And I hate myself for wanting to know. He’s supposed to be the one I use to get close to Venom as a whole, to bring them down, not actually get close to him in the process.

Since my curiosity has a way of taking over, I try to ask nonchalantly and hope Gunner doesn’t catch on. “Where are your friends while you’re out here?”

He shrugs. “Probably home passed out. There was a party at some guy’s house last night. Kade drank more than I have ever seen him drink before, my brother was with Estelle, and Edge was off somewhere getting high and fucking the bitch, Brielle.”

The bottom of my stomach sinks into a trench as deep as the Mariana.

I feel like I’m falling through the sand for an unknown amount of time.

I can’t seem to stop until the imagined quicksand is replaced with nausea.

I clear my throat. Where the fuck did all those dreaded feelings rise from?

Forcing myself to stay situated on the sand to hear what else he has to say instead of bolting up to go home, I rest my hand over my stomach and close my eyes, still wondering what the hell kind of reaction that was.

Thankfully, Gunner doesn’t seem to notice.

“Listen, I have a proposal for you,” he says.

Instantly on red alert, I open one eye and look at him. “What kind of proposal?”

“Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, I do. He pulls me up into a sitting position.

His gaze travels over my breasts when my shirt falls away, then travels up to meet my eyes.

He shakes his head as if coming out of a trance.

“Unfortunately, those— You are off-limits.” He wags his finger in my direction.

“But if they weren’t…” He claws his hands down his face.

“Off-limits? What’s that supposed to?—”

He doesn’t let me finish. Coming again to his senses, he asks, “So want to hear it—my proposal?”

He looks at me as if nothing he said is out of the ordinary and incredibly fucked-up. Not that I want to hook up with Gunner, but who decided to take my boobies—and me—off the market? Hearing him tell me that an alien ship just landed behind me would be weirder.

Stunned, I say, “No, I would like to return to your previous bewildering statement, please.”

Gunner is shaking his head before I finish my sentence. “Nope. No. And no. We are not going there. I’m blaming that slip on the extra good weed I smoked last night. It was an after-effect.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead.” He grabs an invisible noose from around his neck and tugs it. His tongue lolls to the side as his eyes roll into his head.

My mind is still whirling through that coded sentence, but his loose lips have magically turned into a vault. Like a dried-up well, he won’t reveal anything else.

I sigh dramatically. “Fine, what’s this proposal?”

He smears a section of the damp sand with his hand, smoothing it over, then picks up a broken shell. With the tip of it, he draws a circle in the sand, then adds details. I can tell immediately it’s a girl with long strands of hair fanning over one side of her face in an imaginary breeze.

“What if I help you with your art project?”

I glance from his sand art to his face. “Really?” Then I jerk my thoughts to where this is going. That sounds great, but he has his own agenda. “Wait, what do you want in return?”

He uses another shell and a piece of small driftwood to finish his quick but very impressive sand girl. Discarding the random objects, he looks at me. “By spring break, I want you to tell me why you’re really at Monarch.”

I wasn’t expecting him to want that —the one thing I can’t give. But damn, if I don’t need help with my art project. “Why that?”

“Because you’re full of secrets, Kinsley ‘Ninja’ West.” He wipes his hands together, dusting off the granules of sand.

He’s certainly not wrong. “And?” I push, sensing there’s more.

“And I want to know your biggest one.”

I force a soft laugh. “Dealing in secrets now?” Wanting nothing more than to avoid his eyes, I look away in fear of giving in to the truth of his accusations.

“Stop trying to conjure a lie. I want the truth.” He bumps my shoulder. “We all have them. But yours”—he taps the tip of my nose—“I’m sensing yours are big.”

Maybe all of this will be over before the time comes when I have to tell him. I can only hope. If not, I’ll tell him the truth in one word—without details— revenge . “Fine,” I agree.

He holds out his hand, and all his fingers are folded except his pinky.

This time, I do laugh. “You want to pinky-swear?”

He feigned shock. “Is there anything more binding?”

I loop my pinky around his. “Deal.”

With our fingers still looped, he stands, pulling me up with him.

“Are you going to tell Edge you saw me here?” I wipe the sand off my butt.

“Do you want me to?”

I shake my head. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, you do, but I won’t.” He offers a small smile. “It’s our secret.” He picks up his board. “But, Ninja, just know...I bet he knows more about you than you think.”

Every muscle in my body stiffens, and it’s obvious he notices the change in my posture when he tilts his head down.

“He’s Ledger Hunt, a rich asshole, son to a bigger asshole, who has people—who have their people. Once you enter Venom’s den, there’s no hiding.” He tucks the surfboard under his arm.

And here I thought I was the clever one.

“Want another tiny piece of insight? Edge would have come after you even if you hadn’t parked in his spot.

” The corner of his mouth lifts to one side.

“He’s been my best friend since I can remember, but I haven’t seen the before-Ninja Edge in a long time, not since you arrived and stepped into our little world. ”

“I haven’t stepped into anything,” I argue.

Gunner scoffs. “No? Are you sure about that?”

No, I’m not sure at all. It seems that Edge is full of secrets, especially dark ones that he keeps in the shadows about the ones closest to him. “What’s he got on you?” I ask.

“Nothing that another soul will ever know about.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs and gives me a lopsided grin. “Sorry, Ninja.” He turns an imaginary key over his lips and then pretends to eat it.

I don’t push him further. He already told me more than I expected. I’m not that much of an idiot to think he’d be more loyal to me than his friends he’s known forever. Besides, who am I to judge? I have my own deep, dark, dirty secrets.

“Tomorrow, be in the art room at seven,” he says.

I nod, still off-kilter by the turn in our conversation. “Yeah, okay.”

He takes a few steps toward the ocean, then whips back around, holding up his finger. “Oh, and, Ninja.”

I pause with only one leg in my shorts. “Yeah?”

He runs his hand over his golden hair. “Let’s keep up my badass persona. Ya know, for fun.”

I tug an invisible zipper across my mouth. “For fun.”

He offers me a salute and then runs into the breaking waves.

Secrets layered with more secrets. There’s a chance I may drown in them soon.