Page 21 of The Colour of Revenge

I open my mouth.

"Nah," he cuts me off, chuckling. The sound is low, rich—dangerous in all the wrong ways. "I'm kidding. I work alone. Usually."

The way his eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate, sends a spark of heat licking through my veins.

"But you? You might be the exception."

My stomach tightens. A rush of heat pools low, a flutter igniting even lower.

No.

No, no, no.

I won't react to him.

I can't.

Desperate to change the subject, I blurt out, "You work with Kai."

"Ah, true. But Kai's not a killer."

I glance toward Kai, who's still scrubbing at a stubborn splotch of blood, his focus unshakable.

"You've never killed anyone?" The words slip out quieter than I intended.

Kai's hand pauses for half a second.

Then, without looking up, he mutters, "No. Not my thing."

"But you help with… cleaning?"

"I don't like a mess." He shrugs as if that explains everything, then resumes scrubbing—a silent dismissal.

Nate nudges my shoulder, grinning. "Don't mind him. He's a bit touchy with new people. But he'll warm up."

I seriously doubt that.

Still, we fall back into an easy rhythm, clearing away the evidence of my crime like it's just another Tuesday night.

A few hours later, the scene is spotless—and Kai has vanished into the night, taking the evidence with him.

"What's he going to do with it?" I ask as Nate and I head toward our cars.

"Probably best you don't know."

Before I can respond, he's already smirking. "Are you hungry? Murder always makes me hungry."

My stomach betrays me with a loud growl.

I cringe.

Nate beams. Smug. Amused. Devastatingly attractive.

"I'll take that as a yes."

I hesitate. Spending more time with Nate isn't smart. He's dangerous—a fact I've been painfully aware of since we met.

But then again… so am I.