Page 63 of Pretty Little Trigger

CHAPTER 62

Kaden

FOUR MONTHS AGO

She walks out of her Pilates class like she doesn’t have a care in the goddamn world.

Phone in one hand, tote bag slung over her shoulder, ponytail swinging.

No awareness. No instinct.

Just soft limbs and long lashes and that signature strut, like the world bends around her and not the other way around.

If she were mine, I’d fix that.

I’d teach her to scan the shadows.

Lock her doors. Watch her fucking back.

But she’s not mine. Not yet.

No. I bury the thought.

I’m crouched in the back seat of her car.

Got in with the cloned spare key I lifted from her apartment yesterday.

Her demon cat nearly shredded my arm for the privilege.

Little bastard nearly blew the whole op.

She gets closer. Not even looking around.

This job is too easy.

Too clean. She opens the driver’s door and slides in.

Drops her phone. Tries to retrieve it, then gives up.

I breathe her in. Something warm and floral, with that faint edge of salt and skin.

God, she smells like heaven.

I’ve never been this close to her.

Never seen the slope of her neck from this angle.

This was supposed to be quick.

In and out. Business.

But it doesn’t feel like business anymore.

Her eyes flick to the rearview mirror.

I strike.

One hand grabs the back of her neck, the other slams the rag over her mouth.

The chloroform hits fast. I hold it firm.

Her lashes flutter. She’s struggling, muffled and panicked.

And I hate this part.

I fucking hate this part.

I haven’t done a grab in years.

I did my time in the trenches of this career.

I’m at the top now. I could’ve let one of the boys do the grab, but I didn’t want anyone laying a hand on her.

Her body goes limp in seconds.

I brush a strand of hair from her cheek, jaw tight.

“Don’t worry Little Diamond, I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper.

Even now, with her unconscious in my arms, she feels too good.

Too right. And I know that this isn’t about ransom anymore.

This is about her.

What the fuck am I doing?