motion. Four more black-jacketed guys bled from the darkness. The first goon snapped out a pair of wicked blades. Adrenaline hit my system, giving me a kick in the diaphragm. I sawed a few breaths, brain going hot. Luke was the opposite, leaning back, cool and controlled. “You think you can take me?” “Hey,” I said. “Us.” “Yeah, we can take you, dickwad. Five against one. I’m liking those odds.” “Hey,” I said again. “Five against two.” “Zero against two,” Luke said. “Because you guys are assholes—big, puckered, zeros full of gas.” Behind sail-nose, two of the jackets exchanged glances. One mouthed what does that mean and the other shrugged. Not the sharpest scalpels on the tray. Also not very alert. Luke’s hands flickered near his belt—and dime-size throwing stars appeared in their chests with twin thuds.
What do You think about Passion Bites: Biting Love, Book 9 (2015)?
