Rugger: The Huntress (The Grey List #3)

3

“With an MSRP of two hundred thousand dollars, the GT 63 is a rather pricey Mercedes. It is worth every dime, in my opinion. It’s the perfect combustion of luxury and speed. The V8 engine is no toy and is not to be mistaken for one. All wheel drive makes it a smooth ride, but the eighteen miles per gallon average could use some improvement. Zero to sixty in under three and a half seconds isn’t bad either. The 577 hors–”

“A lesson isn’t necessary, I take it. Maybe there are other things we should be discussing. Perhaps your ring size. I think I’m in love already,” sniggering, he pulled the door of his car open.

“Silence is always an option.”

The engine would speak for itself. I’d rather hear it purr than my pussy as he continued lacing his words with sex so damn effortlessly and unintentionally.

“Silence is an option,” he agreed.

The smell of fresh leather assaulted my nostrils. The familiar scent made my skin raise with fine, painful bumps. With a push of a button, the engine came to life.

My heart pounded against my chest cavity as I floored the gas pedal, burning the rubber of Eric’s tires long before I switched the gear. But, when I did, I catapulted us into traffic. Easily, I bypassed the standstill line, opting to travel down the wrong side of the lot because my lack of patience wouldn’t allow me to sit in waiting.

“SHIT,” my passenger breathed out, loudly.

My eyes never left the windshield as I shifted the gear a second time. When the car recognized the change, it opened for me.

Perfect timing.

The parking lot was behind us and I was testing the theory.

One.

Thirty.

Two.

Forty-three.

Three .

Fifty-seven.

Four.

Seventy-one.

There hadn’t been a lie told. Though Chemistry’s ride had proved it could reach sixty miles per hour before the fourth second, I couldn’t help myself.

The highway ramp was where we reached one hundred miles an hour. The lack of congestion had my palms itching and my breath caught in my throat. There weren’t many things besides death that excited me.

But speed.

Speed was one of those things. Engineering was the other. Chemistry Jru was the final one. Even hearing her name launched me into another universe. A far-far away place. Somewhere perfection did exist and she was evidence.

122.

Everything around us blurred. Darkness sheeted the car, but every millisecond a burst of light shined through the tint.

148.

A hand pressed against my thigh. The light tapping served as a warning. A plea. A request that I simply couldn’t grant. I angled my head in Eric’s direction, taking my eyes off the road momentarily. The fear within them reminded me of the fear I’d witnessed in so many others before him.

Slow down .

Not a single word was spoken, but I heard him loud and clear.

No . I shook my head, hoping he heard me, too.

156.

Whoop!

Flashing blue lights caused Eric’s grip on my thigh to tighten.

“Fuck!”

Pussy .

Inwardly, I was reeling. However, my face remained neutral.

Though I could hear the sirens and see their reflection in the rearview, I knew there was no chance of them catching up to us at the speed I was going. But, I was no fool. We’d already been reported and there was likely another officer waiting to join the chase if I led them on one. That wasn’t my plan.

164.

“Slow down. Slow this motherfucker down.”

“If you wish.” I shrugged.

My brows lifted on my face, rushing toward my hairline as I lessened the pressure of my right foot.

140.

“Thank you. Shit .”

Disgusted with the lack of enthusiasm in Eric’s tone, I pushed out a load of air.

128.

“Outrun them but don’t kill us, baby girl.”

“I’m not dying tonight, Eric. Not tomorrow night, either,” I assured him.

From the rearview mirror I could see the car gaining in. Just as it neared us, I shut off the lights and swerved into the lane furthest to the right. To Eric’s surprise, we came to a screeching halt. Blue and red lights rushed past us, unable to slow down in time. Once he realized what was happening, his entire demeanor changed.

“Good shit!” Eric smacked the dashboard with his palm.

I used the opportunity to switch gears. And at full speed, I reversed the car. We were less than a mile away from the nearest exit.

136.

With the precision of an open heart surgeon, I weaved through the cars entering the highway.

152.

As we approached the exit and the road widened, I tightened my fingers around the wheel and twisted until we were facing oncoming traffic. Swiftly, I straightened the wheel and merged into the emergency lane. Our eventful exit from the highway sent a chill up my spine.

My entire body tingled. I could feel my features soften as we continued down the street. A simple twist of the knob illuminated the front of the car as we slowed to a creep at the light.

“You lied,” Eric cleared his throat as he sat up taller in the passenger seat.

Silence.

“You said you’d never driven one of these befo– Maybe it wasn’t one of these but you’ve driven something, baby girl. The fuck are you– a fucking getaway driver?” He asked.

A hunter.

Don’t insult me.

“I don’t know if I should be turned the hell on or scared for my fucking life.”

Scared. Scared for your fucking life, Eric. Always.

“I’m–” He swallowed hard, “I’m flabbergasted. I’m im–”

Impressed.

“Eric–” I started, but was stopped, immediately.

“Your name.”

We approached the parking lot we’d left minutes earlier. As I contemplated the next few words out of my mouth, I backed into the same spot valet had reserved for his car earlier.

Once the engine settled, I turned to face him. Without a doubt, it would be his face I was sliding my pussy across before the night ended. His mother and father had done well. Every part of him was cream-worthy.

His eyes were big and curious like a toddler who had recently gained mobility. His skin was flawless. Every strand of hair on his face was manicured to perfection.

“Lauren.”

“Nice to fucking meet you, Lauren.”

He extended his right hand.

“Nice to meet you, Eric,” I chuckled, extending a hand to accept his.

“Whatever nigga you had waiting on your tonight, he’s going to have to keep waiting.”

His lips met the back of my hand. I pushed the lump of nothingness that swelled in my throat.

“Is that right?”

“I’m staying at The Balgaria . Room 2490. I need you there before I close my eyes and when I open them in the morning.”

Eric leaned over slightly to remove a card from his pocket. The large B on the front confirmed my suspicions. It was the key to his room.

I thudded with anticipation. The Balgaria was walking distance from Slope . Essentially, they were in the same parking lot. Just like Slope , The Balgaria had a massive bar that guests and their visitors scrambled to each night.

Before I could respond, he was already out of the car and on his way over to the driver’s side. Slowly, I stepped out as he held the door ajar. His feet were planted on the pavement, unmoving as I straightened my legs to reach my full span.

His chest pressed against mine. In the black pumps I wore, my height was extended, giving me the opportunity to match his. Eric’s family genes had served their purpose. He was a fine specimen.

I closed the driver’s door behind me, hardly able to remove my eyes from the man before me. He was slightly consuming. However, I wasn’t fully consumed. That was against the rule. Always against the rules . Though I was in the moment, I wasn’t of the moment.

My eyes were on Eric but my mind was elsewhere. My senses were in overdrive. And, survival mode was still in high gear. I’d captured the faces of twenty others in the short time we stood with our bodies pressed against one another.

“Dinner at Bar Balgaria ?” He proposed.

“Is it really food you’re interested in eating?”

He shook his head while cupping his bottom lip. A low chuckle evaded him.

“Admittedly, you have me there.”

“Be clear about your desires because I will be clear about mine,” I assured him, placing a hand on his chest.

Slowly, I slid it down the center, caressing the ridges on his stomach that further explained his physic. I reached the buckle of his jeans causing his breath to stiffen in his throat. The bulge in his pants was massive. I rounded my fingers and lifted slightly.

Such a big boy .

Eric’s lips tickled my earlobe. He’d closed the gap between my face and his. The cologne he wore reminded me of targeting lessons out in the greens.

Earthy.

Woodsy.

Mushy.

Weathered.

Potent .

“You.”

“Pardon me?”

“It’s you I want for dinner,” he breathed into my ear.

“I’m no four hundred dollar meal, Eric.”

“How much–four courses and a breakfast bite.”

“Five-figures.”

He stepped back with raised brows. The smile that pushed his cheeks up confirmed his interest. If he had the funds wasn’t the question. Would he spend them was. And, I had no doubt it would.

“Experiences,” I reminded him.

My hand was still planted between his legs, massaging his dick through his black pants.

“How much, Lauren?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Steep,” he sniggered.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his ear this time. My freehand disappeared into my bag.

“Wire the fucking money. My pussy will be on your nose once it clears. Pinky swear.”

There was no need for small talk. Either he wanted his night to end on a high note or he was willing to settle. The ball was in his court although I owned the stadium.

I shoved the card I’d removed from my purse into his back pocket. Just as I pushed off the car, prepared to leave, he grabbed my wrist.

“First-time client discount?” He asked, biting his lip.

“The going rate is thirty, love. That bulge in your jeans is your discount.”

He wouldn’t be the only one enjoying his night. As long as he had the equipment, I could master the assignment. My pussy was drooling at the thought of sliding down his pole. Visions of my ass mid-air as he pushed into me from behind tightened my chest with anticipation.

“See you in a few,” he promised, pulling the card from his pocket and waving it in the air.

“In a few,” I agreed, watching him unlock his phone to start the search for his accountant’s contact.

It was the only way he’d get such a large amount wired in such a short amount of time unless he had his banker’s home number and didn’t mind waking them out of their sleep.

Without a glimmer of doubt, I knew his eyes were on me as I pushed past the bar hoppers and made my way to my car.

Easy.

Men were borderline embarrassing. They were willing to pull their pants down with the slightest indication they would be receiving pussy. It almost didn’t matter what pussy as long as it was attached to a woman. And, the most pathetic of them all were willing to purchase it, no matter what the ticket price was.

My account was loaded. I would’ve fucked Eric for free. But because I knew he’d pay and because I wouldn’t hear the end of Roulette’s chastising, twenty-five thousand was the compromise.

As I approached the car I was driving for the night, I noticed the car beside it was no longer in sight. With a shrug of my shoulders, I lowered my body into the driver’s seat. I pressed the button to start the engine as my facial features contorted. The piece of white paper underneath the windshield wiper hadn’t been there when I parked.

I lifted the middle console after entering the code. Instead of settling for a firearm that would fit in my purse, I grabbed the largest of the three that were left. With a swipe of my finger, I removed the safety and prepared for the dislodging of bullets the second I pressured the trigger.

I dug into my purse and removed my compact mirror. Lowering the sun visor to use the mirror it supplied would leave me exposed. From feet away, one could see everything I was privy to. Though the windows around me were tinted, I simply didn’t trust it.

The black mirror slid out with ease. I held it in the air slightly. My hand never lifted further than my shoulder. Though I was alarmed, the compact mirror didn’t reveal any signs of danger. Nevertheless, I swiped it from one side of me to the other continuously.

After a few minutes without incident, I lowered the mirror, but kept my gun clutched in my right hand. When ready, I exited the car and snatched the note from the windshield. The heated leather seats welcomed me again as I closed the door, curious about the note in my hand.

Barely recognizable handwriting was scribed on the torn sheet. Pointless contact information had my eyebrows hiked and my hand on my chin in contemplation.

Well, I did scratch their car. I kissed the skin of my teeth, still in limbo about my slight miscalculation between my door and theirs.

A name was followed by a number. The make of the car was next to it.

Sonnie . ( Beamer)

122-867-2132.

Hadn’t it been for the time I spent studying handwriting and patterns at the university where forensics was my major, I wouldn’t have understood the letters. I squinted to make sure I’d captured each one of their true essence.

Surely , a man had written the note.

Surely , he wasn’t interested in compensation for the scratch.

And, surely , I wasn’t interested in paying his body shop debt.

He’d been given the chance to speak to me but hadn’t taken it. The opportunity had presented itself and wouldn’t do so again. I tossed the note into my purse and fastened my seatbelt.

As I prepared to exit the parking lot, the black flip phone pinged. I lifted the top half to find a message from an unfamiliar number. Nevertheless, I opened it.

It wasn’t often familiar numbers came across the screen. For our safety, we switched them often. Most of us didn’t keep the same digits for more than a week. Others could.

Unknown number: Deposit.

Unknown number: $25,000?

My head lifted and fell immediately after. Satisfied with the trajectory of my night, I shifted the gear. My feet didn’t get a chance to touch the gas before the unknown number was ringing my line.

“I asked you a question,” Royce sassed.

Silently, I pulled out of the parking spot I’d been in for the last hour and a half. Where I was headed was walking distance, but I wouldn’t be walking. I’d pass at least fourteen cameras on my journey to The Balgaria . I wouldn’t be walking tonight.

“Yes. Anything else? I’m busy.”

“Who is that from? You took on a new contract?”

“For twenty-five thousand dollars, Royce? Don’t insult me.”

“Then, who’d it come from?”

“Someone who wants me to rub my pussy across his beard.”

I ended the call without another word spoken. Silence replaced my sister’s voice.

Chatter filled the crimson-themed room. Patrons of the highest stature lined the bar and filled almost every table in Bar Balgaria . The upscale dining hall was primed and polished to accommodate Clarke’s finest.

Tailored suits and custom Chanel clung to the bodies of the wealthy. Over-priced, underwhelming fragrances tugged at the hairs of my nostrils. Comfort rediscovered me. The Balgaria was no strange place. I knew every inch of the building and it wasn’t because Project 28 and Project 79 required my knowledge of the establishment.

My family frequented the hotel and bar. Staycations with the girls at The Balgaria were a good time though they were few and far apart. Richie had made a friend of the owner. They often bonded over golf. Richie’s death had taken a toll on Mr. Balgaria.

The fact that he didn’t have a funeral and he didn’t get to say goodbye to his dear friend left Mr. Balgaria with unsettled feelings. The large image of Richie at the very end of the restaurant where his table was always reserved told me so. My heart plummeted, threatening to fall from my chest. The sinking feeling in my gut gripped me by the neck and sent my thoughts spiraling.

You’re not supposed to be here . I chastised. Straight to the room .

But, I needed something to take the edge off. To my dismay, I’d been pushed closer to the edge than I preferred. As my eyes began to blur, my heart knotted.

“What can I get for you?”

Thankful for the bartender, I whipped my head in his direction.

“Uh– yes. Dirty martini.”

“Dirty martini, coming right up.”

Who are you kidding? I asked myself, unable to shed the memories of my father.

“And, one for the road.”

“Two dirty martinis coming right up.”

I made my way down the bar and pressed my back against the wall near the entry. With my eyes trained on the bartender and every move he made, I tightened my grip on the purse on my shoulder. He wouldn’t have fingers to continue if I found even the slightest error in his movements.

“You’re going to age the leather much faster than you should if you don’t loosen your grip.”

My eyes darted across the bar, ending just a few inches away from me. Long, bistre brown limbs were hunched over the wooden top. A small, clear glass occupied the phalanges of the hand. His hand . Which was covered in ink.

My nipples pebbled in my blouse. My pupils dilated slightly. The inside of my bottom lip became trapped between my teeth. I was unsteady, unnerved, and unprepared. To encounter a man of such mystique had the wheels in my head turning.

Dressed in black from head to toe, it was obvious he wasn’t interested in his presence being stamped in anyone’s mind. Except mine, perhaps. Freshly manicured nails were signs he took good care of himself. Still, he was difficult to read. The lack of emotion on his handsome face and in his posture left me indifferent.

Mysterious.

Introverted. Or incognito.

Dark .

Though a stranger, he felt familiar. His resolve was easily distinguished. Because he reminded me of someone. He reminded me of myself.

His eyes found mine. And, that’s where they ended. I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth.

Silence .

Unblinking and unmoving, I matched his gaze. He took his precious time turning to face me completely and standing to his full potential.

“Psalms,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

As if it was contaminated, I gave it a quick glance. However, his eyes were beckoning for me and my thirst for their acquaintance wouldn’t allow me to leave them for too long. He nodded with a smile, understanding my hesitation. What he didn’t understand was the tsunami he’d begun between my legs.

“Your drink— ss .”

With furrowed brows, he questioned my choices. I ignored his judgmental stare and stalked the two drinks on the counter. My receipt sat next to them. Just as I reached for it, I watched it glide in the opposite direction.

“Don’t insult me Miss–” he paused, looking up at me with midnight black eyes.

Cold.

Calculated.

Curious .

Chemistry.

The first martini barely stood a chance. I gulped it in nearly two swallows. The man next to me had me parched.

He passed a card to the bartender who swiped it immediately and handed another receipt over.

“Do you speak?”

This time, the base in his voice heightened as his shoulders squared and his head tilted. Unlike the times before, he wasn’t asking for a response. He was demanding one. Still, I found the silent request rather comical. I danced to the beat of my own drum. If he hadn’t noticed it by now, then that was his mistake. Not mine .

“A challenge. Noted.”

I placed the second martini at my lips as I watched him pick up the pen. My presence spoke volumes. I hadn’t moved as much as an inch since encountering him. The only reason I grabbed my drinks was because they put me in a much closer proximity. I was intrigued.

“I’m a woman who knows herself. Should I begin to entertain you, there won’t be enough time left in my day to see to prior obligations.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. If the bulge in his pants wasn’t so convincing, I’d sip a little slower and talk a little longer, but my chariot awaits.”

Chuckling quickly turned into a menacing, penetrating glare. I matched his intensity. With my eyes trained on his, I lifted my glass to my lips a second time. It wasn’t until the liquid touched my tongue that he broke eye contact.

As I thought .

I was a challenge he wouldn’t conquer. A game he wouldn’t win. A marathon he wouldn’t finish.

I watched his hand move swiftly as ink bled onto the receipt. The S immediately after the P sparked my memory. The one at the very end of his first name confirmed the prediction. I tossed the drink back, finishing it off as the revelation toyed with me.

Snap.

Snap.

I had to keep pushing. My left foot initiated my exit. Before it touched the ground again, a hand was on my elbow. I started for my purse, but quickly ditched the idea. This wasn’t a pressing matter and I didn’t feel threatened.

And, a man you find attractive trying to keep your attention isn’t exactly a reason to kill him . I reasoned.

“You hit my car with your door.”

I’m aware, Sonnie .