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SCARLET

T he first time I ever came on this stage was because of a lost bet with another patron. He didn’t think I could drink him under the table, and he was right. Not because I have a low tolerance, mind you, but because I don’t get wasted in public. Too dangerous.

Either way, I always wondered what it would be like to dance for a crowd of horny drunks. It was as fun as it seemed, even if I didn’t actually strip. It’s been a tradition of mine to do it ever since.

I peek around one of the tall panels that separates the wings from the stage, out onto the rapt audience. About ten minutes have passed since I entered the club, enough time that if Gunn was going to come in after me, he’d already have done it.

As predicted, sitting in a table at the very front is none other than my delicious adversary.

My lips pull upward as the stripper on stage finishes her dance and she goes off the other side.

The DJ comes through the speakers overhead. “Tonight we have a little surprise guest for you. Someone we don’t get to hang out with often. She’s a good friend of ours and she’s promised us one dance. We take what we can get. Everyone, give it up for Peaches!”

I take a step forward, but hesitate when the red exit sign over a door at the rear catches my eye. The smart thing would be to turn around and use that door. Fucking hightail it out of here.

But when the song the DJ chooses for me, Closer by Nine Inch nails, begins to play, the little devil on my shoulder whispers, Please. Play with him.

Damn. Even in this light he looks so fucking good sitting there, his shoulders broad, his jean clad legs so long he can’t get them under that tiny round table.

My own legs start to move as if on their own accord toward the pole set in the center of the stage. The crowd goes wild as I take hold of it and begin to spin. I undulate the way I know will draw the most cheers, throwing an ass wiggle here and there. But when I turn to the audience and drop slowly onto my knees, it’s only one man’s gaze I’m interested in.

I give Gunn my most seductive smile, one that lets him know this dance is just for him. When he smiles back, his dimples deep and long, I crawl toward him. A moth to a hot ass flame.

When I reach the steps, I stand, but don’t release his stare as I make my way to him.

My grin widens when I stop in front of him. I place my palm on his chest and am pleased when he allows me to push him back to make room for me on his lap. There’s a mix of cheers and boos from the audience which is both excited to live vicariously through my chosen man, and disappointed it’s not them.

But the sound quickly fades into the background as I focus my attention only on Gunn.

“Hello, Peaches,” he says in a gravelly tone when I straddle him.

“Why, I do declare, it’s Gunn with two Ns,” I say, using the southern accent I grew up with. “Don’t tell me you came all the way down here for little ol’ me.”

“Just for you, baby.”

I grind myself over him, feeling something huge and rigid against my core. “I’d ask if that’s a knife in your pants, but I can tell you’re just that happy to see me.”

He doesn’t deny it. In fact, his wolfish grin shows his pride in what he’s packing. “What can I say, sweet peaches. The thought of your neck in my hands gives me a hard on.”

“Oh come now. You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

Groaning when I grind harder, he says, “I’m going to do a lot more than that. So why don’t we take this somewhere private? You don’t want witnesses to your demise.”

“My demise!” I laugh. The man is cute and funny!

I cock my head to the side as I peer into his handsome face. Then, because I can’t help it, I lift my fingertip to his left dimple. “I’m going to lick this before you die.”

His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen them before and the heat in my core rises to dangerous levels.

“I want to hurt you,” he whispers and I can hardly breathe.

Bringing my mouth close to his ear and pressing my breasts to his chest, molding myself to him as much as this position allows, I say, “I might let you. But you’ll have to catch me first.”

I pull away slightly, enough that our noses are almost tip to tip. Around us, everyone applauds, probably believing I’m going to kiss him.

My fingers dig into his T-shirt and into the tense muscle beneath. I want to kiss him. I want to test him and see how far he’d let me go. However, that thing I said about it being too dangerous to get wasted in public is true. That goes for any intoxicating substance, and something tells me a taste of Gunn’s lips would be mind-altering. I’d let him kill me and probably like it.

Someday, maybe. Not today. I’m not ready to die just yet.

With a slight groan of disappointment, I shove myself off and run.

I lived with the Garcia family for six months when I was ten years old. They had four children of their own. The youngest three were nice enough, shared their toys and played with me. But it was the eldest that taught me to hide and seek.

Mauricio was fifteen and fucking strong and the one we were all afraid of getting found by. Because when he did, he’d use his punching system. Ten punches was the starting count, one less for each minute it took him to find us. A sort of reward. If it took him nine minutes, you only got punched once. But even that one hit was brutal.

I learned really quick how to dodge his line of sight when he was on the hunt. I could make myself disappear into the tiniest of hidey holes for as long as it took for him to give up.

Thing was, it wasn’t a game. We weren’t playing, though I’m sure he had a blast terrorizing us.

As much of a shit as Mauricio was, he wasn’t nearly as dangerous as the man chasing me now. The stakes weren’t as high. If Mauricio caught me, it meant bruises on my arms and legs. If Gunn does…

I know the risk and somewhere in my brain I register fear. But I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t excite me too. That it doesn’t thrill me to the marrow of my bones to be chased by him.

I plow through the crowded sidewalk on Bourbon Street, shoving people out of my way when there are no open paths. Even though I might have a head start, I don’t believe it’s a huge advantage. Not with Gunn.

So I do what I used to do when I was ten, and plan out not just every step, but every turn, every zigzag. As I apologize to a man who spills his entire Hurricane down his shirt as I whiz by, I’m mapping the whole of the French Quarter, searching my brain for that hidey hole.

Behind me, I hear a fresh slew of curses. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that I was right, my head start wasn’t much of one, and Gunn is gaining on me.

“Fuck!” I duck, doing my best to run while remaining under his line of sight. The thrill of the chase is quickly waning as I recall just how hard it is to shake him. Which means, I might wear out before he does. Double fuck.

I make my way across the street and pull a sharp right into an alley, blowing through it at full speed until I pop out the other side on Royal Street.

There are a lot less pedestrians, which makes it easier to run, but it also makes me more visible. Not for long though. On an earlier walk I came across a house destined for either renovation, or demolition. I stopped to ponder what they might do to the old brittle place long enough that I memorized the structure, the sad shell that probably hid something timeless inside. Most importantly, I remember exactly where it’s located on Ursulines Ave, just off Royal.

I turn right again and am almost immediately standing at the wrought iron gate of the abandoned house. It sits far back between two buildings, its recessed position allowing for what I’m sure was once a lovely garden in the front.

Not wanting to disturb the ground beneath the gate, I climb over the low brick wall that sustains it and scamper across weeds and dead bushes.

The front door has already been left ajar, probably by the many intruders that came before me. I slip inside and carefully step over broken floorboards and avoid as many spider webs as possible, which is a real feat given how dark it is inside.

Earlier, when I wandered about the place, I considered coming inside to find out just how much history was in danger of being destroyed. Though I can’t see much, the little that is visible shows that time has already taken care of erasing any story this house might have told.

The grinding of the iron gate swinging outside is my one minute warning. Damn, he’s good.

Without another second to spare, I climb the spiral staircase. There is no furniture, nowhere to truly hide, so I position myself within the blackest shadow behind a broken section of the second-floor railing. From here, I can peer down into the main foyer and attack. I have no choice. It’s either this, or let him pursue me until I’ve run out of steam and then I’ll really be fucked.

He pushes the front door wider, probably to allow for his girth, and light spills in around him, casting his shadow onto the grayed wooden floor.

I hold my breath even as my heart seems to pound louder. Gunn enters as if without fear, moving in a circle as he scans the entire first floor from where he stands.

There’s a scampering of tiny feet in the back, and he immediately whirls to it and aims his firearm at an innocent mouse. But he doesn’t shoot. Even though no one would hear it with the silencer he’s placed over the barrel and the noise in the city, and even though no one would miss that mouse, and in fact, most people would be happier if it didn’t exist, he lets it go.

The creature dashes away, completely unaware of just how close he came to being blown to smithereens.

Cute, funny, and kind to defenseless animals? All of my girly parts sigh in unison.

Can we keep him? She-devil asks.

Sadly, I must deny her request. We might want to keep him, but he’s not as likely to have the same compassion when it comes to not killing us.

When the mouse disappears into a nearby hole, Gunn begins his search again. He starts for the stairs. Every muscle in my body engages as I prepare to launch myself on him. I just need him to go another foot forward and he’ll be right beneath me.

He takes a step and I shove through the railing, falling several feet to land on top of him. I take him down hard, but it does a number on me too.

“Fuck!” he yells as he throws me off.

I roll all the way to the wall, hitting it almost as violently as I did him. The wind is knocked out of me but I manage to scramble onto my feet before he reaches me. He throws a punch and I duck. Shards of plaster fly as he hits the wall instead.

“Gotta be faster than that, bitch!” My fists make contact with his unyielding abs, and though I would usually appreciate that in a man, my knuckles protest that attribute. Doesn’t keep me from socking him again and again.

That is, until he snatches my arm and spins me. I gasp as I’m turned, my wrist secured to my lower back, and Gunn’s massive forearm comes across my chest.

“How’s this for fast?” he asks, but before he has a chance to lock me in place, I kick the wall with all my might, forcing him to stumble backward. I take advantage and drop like deadweight at the same time that I drag the heel of my boot down his shin.

I’m instantly released and I roll away from him at the same time as I tug out both of my blades.

“Nice to see you’re armed. Would have felt real awful about taking you out if the fight wasn’t at least a little fair,” he mocks.

I snicker. “I don’t need them to fight fair. But they make me look sexy, don’t they?”

It’s a fact that most men are stronger than most women. Stronger than me. That’s why I’ve honed the skills that truly count in a fight. My shot accuracy is unparalleled. My abilities with knives even better. I’ve been trained in martial arts and even created my own version of street fighting.

Add to that my small size and speed, and I can really fuck a guy up before he can even think about using his strength against me. That’s my key to success.

I slice the blades through the air. He evades my strike to his left, and straight ahead. But when I manage to nick his right arm, he goes down onto his back.

Shocked at how easily he fell, I stare at him for a moment. “I barely scraped you!”

“What the fuck?” He lifts himself onto his elbows and that’s when I notice his foot has gone through one of the ancient floorboards.

“I would have preferred for this to be all my doing, but I’ll take what I can get.” I straddle him and press the blade to his neck. His hand wraps around my wrist and keeps the blade from sliding into his jugular.

A thin red line forms on his skin, and a bead of blood rolls onto the knife. I press harder, but he’s so damned strong it’s impossible to get much deeper.

“That thing you said about the knife?” he says.

“Yeah?” I’m so focused on the spot where the steel of my knife meets his flesh, determined to push it in deeper, that sweat is beginning to form on my brow.

“You don’t need anything to make you look sexier. You’re already the fucking sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

My kill rate is currently at one hundred percent. I’ve never missed a target.

Until now.

What he says is like a powerful punch to the gut and I lift my eyes to his and he gives me a wicked dimpled grin that delivers the final distracting blow.

That’s all he needs.

Next thing I know, my knife goes flying end over end and I’m rolling onto my back. Gunn comes with me, his hands immediately wrapping around my neck as I slam onto the floor because he knows that if he doesn’t do it now, he won’t have another chance.

Instantly, I work to break his hold on my throat, using all of my experience. First, I try simple self-defense. When that doesn’t work, I wrap my legs around his waist, squeezing my thighs as I simultaneously punch his ribs and shoulders.

Not only does he dig his thumbs deeper into my windpipe, but I swear it’s making him hard. There’s a very obvious bulge pressing into my core, and to my horror, I find myself pressing back.

What is this? He’s actively killing me and I’m getting turned on? Is this a new kink for me? Asphyxiation with a dash of murder during sex?

“Fuck no!” I mouth because no sound will come out. I am not going to die and like it!

I grab Gunn’s wrists and attempt sheer brute force, but it’s like trying to peel away steel. Damn, he’s strong. Probably the strongest man I’ve ever fought. This is exactly why it was imperative not to let him get a hold of me.

But at least it’s not effortless on his part. His dark eyes are narrowed and crinkled at the edges. The veins in his temples are bulging and there’s a bead of sweat rolling from his forehead, down to the line of his chiseled jaw.

Even his dimples are engaged as he works to take me out.

Damn, he’s so fucking hot. Is this what his past victims have seen before they met their maker? A sexy dark beast. Terrifyingly gorgeous and powerful.

Precious seconds pass with me not breathing as I stare at him in fascination. They pass and I don’t notice. When I do, it’s too late. I guess it was too late the moment he got his hands around my neck. Maybe even before that, way back when I fought him the first time and liked it.

My vision begins to blur and my arms weaken until they drop.

I’m going to die. There’s no doubt about it. It was going to happen eventually. One of us had to go. Kind of thought it would be him, though.

I peer into his brown eyes and try with all my might to convey some smartass remark he’ll remember forever. Something that will make me his most memorable kill.

All I can muster is a wink. Then it all goes black.