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Innocent.
Weak.
I brush dirt off my tank top and rub my hands through my ratty hair. If you want to get close to a man, it doesn’t hurt to look somewhat appealing.
The cellar door flings open, and I wrap my hands around my knees and hunch my shoulders. I keep my eyes wide and try to look scared. Which isn’t that hard considering I kind of am.
Men’s black dress shoes and slacks come into view, and then Blade’s physique. The suit makes him look more like a mobster than the gray sweats he wore last night did. He’s more frightening like this.
He has no expression as he steps off the stairs and comes to stand in front of me. He’s holding a water bottle, and he tosses it at my feet before sliding his hands into his pockets.
My first response is to glare, but I quickly lower my eyes. I’m supposed to be playing scared, and my throat is parched anyway, so I let the rude gesture go. I grab the bottle, twist off the cap, and bring the cool liquid to my dry lips. I close my eyes and gulp down water, droplets running down my chin when I drink too fast. It soothes my scratchy throat and washes down the dirt in my mouth, and right now, there is no sweeter thing in the world.
The empty bottle crackles in my grasp, and I bring it from my face. I wipe my chin with a dirty hand before setting the bottle on the ground.
“Hungry?” he asks, his tone flat.
I look up at his bored expression, and once again, I fight the glare.
“Yes,” I say, my voice harsh. I clear it and shift onto my knees. “Yes, please.”
He pulls a granola bar from his pocket and tosses it at me. It bounces off my chest and falls to the ground. I grab it but don’t make a move to remove the packaging. I lied. I’m not hungry. I could drink probably three more bottles of water, but I’m far too wired to eat. I’ve gone days without eating before, so this is nothing.
“How long do you plan to keep me down here?” I ask, injecting sadness into my words. Just in case this isn’t the right opportunity, it would be best to know what’s coming.
My eyes widen when I realize I haven’t heard the scraping of metal since the door slammed shut on Blade.
It isn’t locked.
“Why don’t we talk about that,” he says, turning his back on me and taking the few steps to the wooden railing for the stairs. He turns back around and leans against it, crossing his ankles and casually putting his hands back in his pockets.
I survey the opening in his suit jacket. There’s the white of his shirt, and a black tie, but I don’t see anything suggesting a holster. With the way the jacket fits him perfectly, I’d say he isn’t wearing a one. Usually, you can tell.
Is he a gun in the waistband kind of guy?
I’ll have to find out.
“Are there any sort of skills you have, other than mediocre thievery?”
Now I can’t hold back my glare. I try to, I really do, but my eyes narrow at him anyway. “Are you asking me if I’m any good at sucking cock?”
He lifts his brows and rears back like he’s surprised by my response. He chuckles, and I see the first bit of interest from him since he stepped into the bunker.
“Are you?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten any yelp reviews.”
He chuckles at that too. “All right, well, anything else?”
“Anything else what?”
“Is there anything else you’regoodat?”
I open my mouth then close it. My brow furrows. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”
Blade sighs. “Can you think of any way that you might be useful for me? Do you know any dealers on the street you can give me information about, or are you any good with a Bunsen burner? Did you like chemistry in high school? Grow up on a farm? Are you any good at flirting, maybe you know how to manipulate a guy? Anything that could even remotely be of interest to me?”
He speaks to me as if I’ve come to him begging for a job and he’s annoyed at my pitiful resume. He’s a fucking asshole, but it does remind me what I should be doing.
