| Author: | Karen Diroll-Nichols | ISBN: | 9781476042831 |
| Publisher: | Karen Diroll-Nichols | Publication: | March 12, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Karen Diroll-Nichols |
| ISBN: | 9781476042831 |
| Publisher: | Karen Diroll-Nichols |
| Publication: | March 12, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
“Stop what you’re doing and put your hands out to the side where I can see them,” she said quietly, firmly. Her arm was extended, her left hand cupping the right and the small .38 caliber aimed and steady.
“You’re making a mistake,” came the very quiet, deep voice.
“You know…I get that a lot when I find someone somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Paige said flippantly. He was big. About six three, she thought, taking in her boots which put her at about five-eleven.
Thick shaggy hair that looked a little like dark straw blonde and hung around the sides of his face and touched the collar of the black leather waist length jacket. Add to that, black leather chaps over jeans and thick soled leather boots. Her eyes flit around the large area quickly.
“And you’re supposed to be here?” Asked the deep, dry voice.
“I have access…arms out…please don’t make me shoot you,” she said cheerfully.
That tidbit of information had his body frozen, his arms rising out at his sides slowly.
“I’d prefer not to be shot this evening,” he responded silkily, turning very carefully. Sharp blue eyes landed on the weapon at the end of her arm, taking in her stance and steady grip. He allowed his eyes to trail along the length of arm to the tall, slender form and patient gaze etched on the oval face.
“You have a pink gun.” He heard the words before they struck his brain at the same time it felt like his insides had run into a solid wall.
Paige was used to the disbelief in people when she practiced.
“Funny…the operative word seems to be gun.”
“A little pink gun,” he said in amazement, his hands starting to lower until she shook her head and lifted the gun a little higher.
“No moving…and it might be little, but I seem to recall a vital artery just at the apex of your thighs,” she motioned, satisfied with the look of concern on his face. “Then there’s the edge of your wrist…oh, but my personal favorite is the neck artery…you know…the one the vampires always go for…what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he kept his gaze shifting between her hand and her face. Expressive, large eyes that would tell him if she was unstable, instead he felt the jolt of that wall falling on him once more. Intelligent, irreverent and filled with promise. He saw that and more and it worried him.
“Usually the person with the upper hand asks the questions,” Paige bit into her cheek thoughtfully. “Hmm…and that would be…me.”
“Just looking around…”
“This look like a tourist haunt to you? And it isn’t a safe place to camp. How’d you get through the fence? I walked it, there’s no damage to it. But you don’t look like someone out to disrupt things…”
“And you’d know?”
“You’d be surprised what I know,” she said quietly, her head shaking. “You aren’t here to cause trouble for the owner.”
“Has there been trouble?” He shifted slightly, his sigh thick. “Look…arms down…I’m not armed…”
“Yeah…I always believe strangers I find on private property,” she murmured, her head shaking. “There’s been threats…and lights…” Paige frowned, her mind replaying what she’d seen. “You aren’t part of the lights…”
He saw the opening he needed and moved swiftly, one hand up and gripping her wrist, pushing her hand into the air while the other wrapped snugly around her waist, twisting her and pulling her hard against him.
“You really shouldn’t go around pointing guns at people,” the words whispered thickly against her ear. “No noise…I saw the lights off to the edge of the warehouse.”
“Stop what you’re doing and put your hands out to the side where I can see them,” she said quietly, firmly. Her arm was extended, her left hand cupping the right and the small .38 caliber aimed and steady.
“You’re making a mistake,” came the very quiet, deep voice.
“You know…I get that a lot when I find someone somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Paige said flippantly. He was big. About six three, she thought, taking in her boots which put her at about five-eleven.
Thick shaggy hair that looked a little like dark straw blonde and hung around the sides of his face and touched the collar of the black leather waist length jacket. Add to that, black leather chaps over jeans and thick soled leather boots. Her eyes flit around the large area quickly.
“And you’re supposed to be here?” Asked the deep, dry voice.
“I have access…arms out…please don’t make me shoot you,” she said cheerfully.
That tidbit of information had his body frozen, his arms rising out at his sides slowly.
“I’d prefer not to be shot this evening,” he responded silkily, turning very carefully. Sharp blue eyes landed on the weapon at the end of her arm, taking in her stance and steady grip. He allowed his eyes to trail along the length of arm to the tall, slender form and patient gaze etched on the oval face.
“You have a pink gun.” He heard the words before they struck his brain at the same time it felt like his insides had run into a solid wall.
Paige was used to the disbelief in people when she practiced.
“Funny…the operative word seems to be gun.”
“A little pink gun,” he said in amazement, his hands starting to lower until she shook her head and lifted the gun a little higher.
“No moving…and it might be little, but I seem to recall a vital artery just at the apex of your thighs,” she motioned, satisfied with the look of concern on his face. “Then there’s the edge of your wrist…oh, but my personal favorite is the neck artery…you know…the one the vampires always go for…what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he kept his gaze shifting between her hand and her face. Expressive, large eyes that would tell him if she was unstable, instead he felt the jolt of that wall falling on him once more. Intelligent, irreverent and filled with promise. He saw that and more and it worried him.
“Usually the person with the upper hand asks the questions,” Paige bit into her cheek thoughtfully. “Hmm…and that would be…me.”
“Just looking around…”
“This look like a tourist haunt to you? And it isn’t a safe place to camp. How’d you get through the fence? I walked it, there’s no damage to it. But you don’t look like someone out to disrupt things…”
“And you’d know?”
“You’d be surprised what I know,” she said quietly, her head shaking. “You aren’t here to cause trouble for the owner.”
“Has there been trouble?” He shifted slightly, his sigh thick. “Look…arms down…I’m not armed…”
“Yeah…I always believe strangers I find on private property,” she murmured, her head shaking. “There’s been threats…and lights…” Paige frowned, her mind replaying what she’d seen. “You aren’t part of the lights…”
He saw the opening he needed and moved swiftly, one hand up and gripping her wrist, pushing her hand into the air while the other wrapped snugly around her waist, twisting her and pulling her hard against him.
“You really shouldn’t go around pointing guns at people,” the words whispered thickly against her ear. “No noise…I saw the lights off to the edge of the warehouse.”
