His Trouble Maker

JESSICA

What the hell?

Hlook around again. Neat me is an empty field with lots of flowers. Pretty white flowers. Moonlight pools over the clearing, making the damn flower glow like they’re mocking me.

“Move it, Jess” Riot said, pushing me to move. “You think your enemies will wait while you admire the scenery?”

I hate his condescending tone,

“This place is–”

“Perfect,” he cuts me off, dropping a heavy bag that thuds against the dirt. “Isolated. No witnesses.”

The bag unzips with a violent scrape. Metal glints in the moonlight–knives, I realize. My stomach twists.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I mutter, but my feet stay rooted. “I don’t know how to use weapons.”

“And I didn’t sign up to babysit Grayson’s latest fuck–up,” Riot spits, pulling out a wicked–looking blade and testing its edge with his thumb. Blood beads instantly. He licks it off without flinching. “But here we are.”

He’s stripping off his jacket while talking, revealing arms covered in scars–some fresh, some old.

“You got two choices,” he says, tossing a knife at my feet while simultaneously lighting a cigarette. “Learn to fight or learn to run faster than bullets.”

W–What?

My eyes widened, watching as he drops his smoke, grinds it under his boot, and disappears into the darkness.

Just… gone.

I spin around, searching the shadows. The knife glints at my feet. I bend to grab it when a hand suddenly clamps over my mouth from behind. Another twists my arm up between my shoulder blades. Pain shoots through my joints.

“Dead,” Riot whispers against my ear, his stubble scraping my skin. “And I wasn’t even trying hard.”

catching myself before I face–plant into the dirt. When I

up. “Never bend down for a weapon when there’s a threat nearby.

that,” I spit out, rubbing my shoulder. It

slow. His boot catches my ankle and I crash down

drops his knee onto my

whispers, face inches from mine./’It’s not cheating if you’re this

than pain.

slamming my forehead into

wedge my knee between us and kick hard into his stomach. He stumbles backward, knife still clutched in his hand, a surprised

1/3

Chapter 70

from his face with the back of his

to my sweat slicked skin, “You’re

a predator, flipping the knife casually while keeping those cold eyes locked

“What does that-”

on my heel as his blade whispers past my ear. My elbow connects with his ribs. Not hard enough. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking

murmurs, breath hot against

his grip even as

hammers against my

grins through bloody teeth. “Maybe after

www

I spit, feinting left before diving

me, calculating, but there’s something else there – amusement? He’s enjoying

He blinks reflexively – just enough time for me to lunge for the knife I spotted

he calls out, already

missing by inches as

I hiss through

it easier for you

sweeping my legs. I crash down hard, the knife flying from my grip. Before I can react, he’s flipped me onto my stomach, knee in my back, yanking