Hunting Her Box Set

I nod, slow and subtle. “Maybe you’re right.”

Again, her chin hitches. There’s no other sign of her fury, just the damn chin that demands my tight hold.

“I suppose I should thank you for the flowers,” she murmurs. “That’s the polite thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Flowers?” I push from my desk and stroll around to sit in the office chair behind it. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighs, not buying my bullshit, and steps away from the window. “This was a mistake.”

“Of course it was. You never should’ve tried to take me on, especially not at my uncle’s funeral.”

“I didn’t try to take you on,” she snaps. “Your father came out of hiding for the first time in months. I couldn’t have cared less if he was celebrating the birth of a grandchild, or lying on his death bed. He’s a vile waste of oxygen who needs to be behind bars. And anyone who disagrees should be there with him.”

I raise my arms in front of me, holding out my wrists. “Then lock me up, honey, because I strongly disagree.”

She bares her teeth, and the vicious snarl she releases does things to me that defy logic.

This is what I wanted. The brilliant rage. The blinding beauty. It wipes away the memory of the provoking smirk she inflicted upon me and replaces the expression with something I’ll cling to for a damn long time.

All I need now is her fear.

“One day I will, asshole.” She stalks for the door. “I bet my life on it.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t over.” Far from it. I shove from my chair and take two quick strides to step in front of her, blocking her path before she reaches her escape. “We’re not done.”

Her eyes flare as she stops. “Move.”

“No. You came here because you want something from me. What is it?”

“I already told you,” she growls. “I wanted to know where you’re hiding him, but obviously you’re not going to do the world a favor and fill me in.”

“Bullshit.” I lean closer, getting right in her face. “You came here for something else. You were trying to turn the tables. To get back at me for humiliating you earlier. You came storming in here with your over-cocked attitude and attempted to intimidate my customers.”

“Like hell I did. I came here because a man died today. And another is fighting for his life.” She throws her arms wide. “Hell, for all I know, he may already be dead. And for once, I wanted to see the affect the brutality had on you. For once, I wanted to know if you were anything but a heartless piece of shit.”

“You expect my remorse when I’m not responsible?”

A jilted breath brushes past her lips, half laugh, half hatred. “You approached me at the exact moment it happened. You kept me busy the entire time.” She holds my gaze, her cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “You’re guilty, Cole Torian. And suspension or not, I’m going to take you down.”

Suspension?

I pull back to scrutinize her. I take in all the features I haven’t had enough time to appreciate. Her short, sleek hair, the black strands cut at different lengths to give a loose, messy vibe. But it’s those eyes, the same ones that slayed me this morning, that keep me engaged now. They’re a captivating color—a mix between hazel and green.

“Stop looking at me like that, and get out of my fucking way.” She sidesteps, waiting for me to move.

“I can’t. I thought I knew everything there was to know, but now I’m baffled.”

She huffs. “Move.”

I lean back against the door, my head cocked, my brows furrowed. “This morning I was certain nothing could be more of a turn-on than your unjustified arrogance. But here you are, entirely defeated, humiliated, and flushed with rage, and I’ve gotta say, I think I made the wrong assumption. Nothing is more attractive than you at your lowest.”

Her face transforms into a mask of shock. Then utter rage.

My pulse kicks in anticipation. In pure, undiluted pleasure.

She’s going to break. To fucking explode. And I can’t wait for the detonation.

Each second that passes makes my heart beat faster, my limbs pulse harder.

Do it, little fox. Let me have your worst.

“You—” She snaps her mouth shut and sucks a deep breath through her nose, gaining restraint.

“Me, what, Nissie?”

Her jaw works overtime, those beautiful lips pressed tight. But still, she clambers for control, scrambling for dear life. “Move.”

“We’re not done.”

“No?” Her eyes narrow. “What’s left to say? Do you want to throw some more threats around? Maybe remind me how much you like hunting?”

I frown. “I do enjoy hunting. How did you know?”

The rage continues to bubble, the heat in her cheeks growing despite her attempts to chill. “Move, or I’ll use whatever force necessary.”

“And add to the harassment case already hovering over your head?”

Her hands shake. And her face—God, her face makes her seem like a bull about to slay a pen of matadors. This woman is lit and about to blow.

She lunges for the nearest bookshelf and grabs a novel, throwing the projectile at my head. The heavy weight misses by half a foot, its only achievement a weighty thunk against the wood.

“Jesus,” I scoff. “I hope you’re more accurate with your gun.”

“Do you want to find out?”

I laugh.

I think I do. I have a strange urge to be in her line of fire, as I push her closer toward the edge. She’ll have the lethal weapon, but I’ll be the one in control, calling the shots.

“I can’t wait to snap those cuffs around your wrists.” Those green eyes turn manic, her smile crazed. “I’m going to take pleasure in nailing you to the wall.”

“By all means.” I crook a finger at her. “Have at it. I’ve often thought about nailing you myself.”

She grabs book after book, throwing one after another until I score a spine in the gut and another on the thigh. She’s deliberately aiming low. Trying not to leave the damning evidence of a bruise. Or maybe just aiming for my cock.

But why not reach for her gun? Suspension or not, why isn’t she phoning this in?

My threat of reporting her must be far more terrorizing than I’d thought.

How perfect.

This feisty little thing might be on the verge of losing her badge.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s call a truce.” I hold up my hands in surrender. I won this round; I don’t need to beat a dead horse. “You can’t blame me for levelling the score. You picked this fight. Not me.”

She turns rigid, her eyes flaring again, only this time it’s in horror. Pain. “This is you levelling the score?”

“Yes. We both enjoy wi

“Even?” Her voice is raw. “You killed an officer and another may already have died. But now we’re even for my few taunting words?”

She doesn’t give herself credit. She did more than taunt me with a few words.

I haven’t come close to losing my calm in public since I was a teenager, yet this woman inspired madness and incredible instability in me. I could’ve raged at that funeral—not because of the injustice or the unfortunate timing, but because of Anissa. Because of her perfect provocation.

She’s unaware of her power, which, for me, is a good thing.

“I’ve told you, I had no involvement in my father’s escape.” I lower my arms to my sides. “But if you’d like me to send a floral arrangement to the deceased’s family, I’ll happily oblige.”

“How do you sleep at night?” She reaches for another projectile, this time retrieving a small clay statue.