Читать книгу Striking Distance - Debra Webb - Страница 28

Chapter 19

He performed his usual check of the perimeter of the Oak Park property before entering. Thankfully no one waited for him this time. A quick sweep for alien electronics and he relaxed.

If Leberman showed his face once more he might just kill him now and put them both out of their misery. Dread, or something on that order, hardened in his gut. He tamped it down. Hated those old sensations Leberman so easily engendered in him. When Victoria Colby was dead they would be even, anyway. What difference would a few days make? Once his score with Leberman was settled he intended to kill the bastard if he ever came near him again. Just looking at him made Seth remember the past, and he didn’t want to remember.

He climbed the stairs to his room without bothering with light. He was as much at home in the dark as he was in the light, maybe more. The dark had always been his friend. No one could see him in the dark.

Before he could stop the mutinous memory, Leberman’s words echoed in his head. He knew what he was all right. He was pure evil...a monster. Hadn’t he been marked long ago? That was just one more reason he couldn’t trust Tasha. She pretended to see what wasn’t there...pretended not to care what he was.

But he knew differently.

He knew a great deal more than she suspected. He knew exactly what she was doing. Leberman had his sources. He untied his shoes and toed them off, then shouldered out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor. The weapon and holster he shrugged off and lay on the bed. A gun had been his only sleeping partner for more than a decade. He was never without it. Never intended to be, as long as he was still breathing.

As he peeled his T-shirt up and off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer to inspect the numerous scars that marred his otherwise well-maintained body. Ugly, brutal marks that told the story of his past. A past he wanted to forget. He studied his face and the slash on his jaw that had been the last one inflicted by the bastard who’d trained him.

He banked the fury that ignited instantly whenever he allowed himself to dwell on the past. His lips flattened into a grim line. The bouts of anger he’d been dealing with lately were nothing but an indicator of his one weakness—the past. When he had paid his final debt he would never think of the past again.

The image of Tasha flashed through his mind, sending a new kind of fire straight to his groin. She was proving a weakness, as well. He’d allowed his curiosity to get the better of him.... That had been a mistake.

It wouldn’t happen again.

He had no reason at this point to kill her, but he would if she got in his way.

The curiosity she’d sparked in him was the only reason she wasn’t dead already.

But she was toying with him...there could be no other explanation.

He knew what he was, and no woman would want that.

Unless she was paid to want it.

He shook his head in self-disgust when even the mere thought of her got him hard. Not once since becoming a man had he allowed any woman to hold that kind of power over him.

Sex, he decided, was only about his body’s need for physical release, nothing more. He stepped back into his shoes and tied them. Then reached for his shirt and weapon. Well, physical release would be easy enough to obtain.

There were plenty of women out there who knew how to use their mouths for something more than talk.

He didn’t need Tasha.

Any woman would do.

They were all alike—manipulative, clingy, untrustworthy. Though admittedly they had their uses, he had never met one he needed.

He didn’t need anyone or anything.