Page 14 of Untamed Sinner

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"You're not the only one who knows how to pick locks, Hendricks." She smiles like she’s already won.

I have the absurd urge to drag my thumb across her lips and see if she’d still be smiling afterward. "My system's encrypted."

"I'm very motivated." She takes another bite of donut.

I step into the kitchen, closing the distance between us. She doesn't flinch; she doesn't move. She just chews as she watches me with those changing eyes that have been haunting me for over a month.

Illogically, I want to push her. I want a reaction from her—anything other than the mocking humor emanating from her. So I say, "Thomas Ashford hired me to find you."

She nods. "I know."

"You know." How the fuck is she always a step ahead of me?

"Gabriel called." She takes a sip of coffee, slow and deliberate. "He told me you'd be coming for me."

Fucking Gabriel Reyes. Their bond annoys the hell out of me. "Smart advice," I grit out.

"I don't run."

"Then you're an idiot."

“Maybe.” Her smile sharpens. "Or maybe I'm the only one smart enough to see what's really happening here."

"And what's that?" Crossing my arms, I lean against the sink. I already know I’m going to regret asking.

She sets the cup down and leans forward, elbows on the table. "You don't want to find me, Hendricks. You want an excuse to see me again."

16

MANDY

Bingo.

I’d poked at him, waiting for the crack, expecting him to clap back at me. Instead, he’s quiet, like it was a direct hit.

That’s answer enough.

The stupid part? The part that he doesn’t know, that I didn’t realize until he stepped across the threshold? That I wanted to see him too.

17

HENDRICKS

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and I hate that she's right. I hate that she can read me when no one else can. I hate that standing here, looking at her in my kitchen like she belongs, makes something dark and hungry coil in my belly.

“Why else would you take a contract to hunt me?” she continues, watching me with that sharp amused glint.

Because the thought of someone else putting his hands on her makes violence seem less like a profession and more like an imperative. "It's a job."

"Bullshit." She stands, and suddenly the space between us feels too small and too big all at once. "If it was just a job, you would've called your client the second you saw my name and turned it down. Hunting me is counter to your best interests. Lily’s boyfriend and his friends would turn on you. But you didn't. You sat there in your secure room, staring at my file, thinking about what it meant."

It’s like she has a direct cam into my life, and I don’t like it. I force my hands to relax. "You don't know what I was thinking."

"Don't I?" She moves closer. “I think you want to chase me.”