Page 38 of Trigger Happy Ending

“Is that why you didn’t come home last night?”

My brows knit together. “No.”

“Why then?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I went out.”

Soren’s face hardens. “Mixing business with pleasure seems reckless.”

“I’m not being reckless. It’s called being undercover.”

“Going out with men after work seems pretty reckless to me.”

Oh. Ha!

He thinks I’ve gone out with men from the club, not Cherry. I don’t correct him. He’s jumped to conclusions, and he can deal with it. Besides, I think I kinda like him jealous? Makes me feel better knowing he feels the strange connection forming between us too. That it’s not just me getting all fucked up about it.

“You’re the last person who should be handing out lectures on recklessness.” My head automatically nods towards the recent bullet wound. “You’ve got a permanent reminder about yours.”

His face shuts down, signifying an instant mood shift. I’ve noticed he goes from zero to one hundred quickly. Turning, he says, “You should go.”

A massive sword entwined with a python sprawls down his spine. My brain can’t help but imagine what it feels like to scratch my fingernails down his back, as his body weight crushes mine. I blink several times, halting that daydream from blooming into a sexual fantasy and clouding my judgement.

“You’re such a dick,” I mutter.

Soren pivots slowly towards me. “What?”

“You’re. A. Dick,” I enunciate. “I came in to share information—which I didn’t have to do by the way—and you toss it aside and accuse me of screwing the people we’re meant to infiltrate.”

He takes a threatening step toward me. I match it, closing the distance between us. I’m not scared of him. Not one iota.

“I don’t give a shit what you do, how you do it, or who you do it with,” he snarls down at me. “I don’t give a fuck. I’m sure Carson will make you feel like the whore you pretend to be. Or are. I still can’t decide if it’s an act.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. Asshole!

I’m entirely unprepared for his scathing (and quite frankly incorrect) assessment of me. The whore I pretend to be? He cannot be serious, cannot be for real. My body shudders with rage. No one ever speaks to me with such vitriol.

And I’m sure as shit not allowing it to begin now.

Soren taunts me. “Lost for words?”

I want to kick in his teeth. In fact, I think I will. Nothing will make me happier than seeing his sickeningly stunning smile splintering into a million pieces.

“Go on. Do it,” he challenges. “I know you want to.”

“Alright.”

My fist flies, and I punch him in his beautiful face.

His head snaps to the side, but when he turns back, he’s smiling, blood in his mouth and all.

“God …” His tongue drags over his lip, slow and filthy. His teeth bathed in crimson red. “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you’re pissed.”

Chapter 19

Soren

Ipress either side of my nose and wince. My nose aches from where Raine punched me. Deserved injury, I did insinuate she was a whore. Not that I believe she is, but for some reason, it stings when I think of her in that club environment, entertaining men. I don’t like the visuals. Men can be … Well, they can be shit. I speak from experience. Women haven’t offered me much other than one night of fun. And even then, there’s barely any talking. Just fucking. Zero intimacy. Some tried, of course. To have a snuggle, or a chat, or whatever. But after Karlie? I never gave anyone a chance to get remotely close. Not after the spoils of war.