“Companion.” She corrects me, stressing the word.
I shake my head, not convinced. “What are you, undercover? FBI? Trying to take down an escort ring or underground fights? Does it have to do with Ericson and his firm?”
The value of a predator is unrecognized, unappreciated. I’m not one to take predators for granted. Her skills are so fucking valuable. Whatever this woman’s purpose here tonight, it’s not to provide physical pleasure. In truth, I’m probably doing Ericson a favor.
Our moment is disrupted as a guy comes around the corner. Lilah uses the opportunity to inch closer to me. Her body presses against mine, her curves mold perfectly to the contour of my form. She’s a distraction in all the wrong ways, and she knows this. She uses her body as a weapon.
“Whatever your kink is,” she whispers, her tone seductive, “I’m not into it. Maybe Sophie or one of the other girls would be interested.”
“I don’t think Sophie is my type.” No—none of them are the type I need. I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for.
The first step in the scientific method is to identify, and I’ve just identified my new subject. A thrill courses through my blood as I stare into the eyes of a psychopath.
She’s the one.
“Trust me,” she says. “I’m definitely not your type.” As she turns to walk away, I grab her arm, and that’s a mistake.
The realization comes with a shock—a literal electric shock that sends a pulse of 20,000 volts into my body.
I hit the floor. My body convulses with spasms as I stare up at her, noting the small Taser clutched in her hand.
Christ.
