“Now would you look at that,” Bain said, smirking. “There’s a fighter inside you after all. I was starting to wonder where your backbone had gone.”
“Fuck off.” She glared at him, prepared to fight him.
“I’m not going anywhere, babe, and right now, you’re turning me the fuck on.”
She hadn’t expected that, especially as he grabbed his dick, which was easily seen pressed against his pants.
This was insane. She didn’t want to notice his large length. The thing was, Bain didn’t even reach out to touch her. He released his cock, and then continued to eat his sandwich as if nothing was going on. She watched him, somewhat surprised.
“If you’re thinking I’m going to rape you, you’re wrong. I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re just going to kill me?”
“Exactly, nothing wrong with that. I’m being honest.” He shrugged. “If you entertain me I may keep you around a little longer.”
Her blood went cold. She had to have hope that she’d get through this.
Maybe, if she got out of here alive, he’d be a better story than Alexei Semenov.
****
Bain had fucked up in a big way. He knew that, and so far Boss didn’t know that, and he didn’t know why he cared. Actually, scrap that, he did know why he cared. Viper had been the one to actually give a good report on him. Killing was what he was known for, and Viper had his back. They had both been in that shithole they had called home as a child. Bain didn’t even know how else to describe it.
Staring at the sexy little reporter, he knew her mind was working. If she couldn’t have Alexei Semenov, then why not him, the hitman? His story would totally fuck people’s heads up, and he was used to that shit.
Right now, he didn’t want to kill her. Not just because of the fact he could guarantee there was someone out there that knew about her but also because he liked looking at her. The monster inside him seemed to calm. He’d seen the alarm in her eyes when he grabbed his dick, and even though he was hard, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. He had a great deal of control. Nothing made him do shit that he didn’t want to do. His dick was his own and had been since he killed the people who made him do shit he didn’t want to do.
She finished the sandwich, and he went to make another. Killing always worked up an appetite inside him, and he didn’t trust anyone to make his food, so sandwiches were the only way to go. The kitchen was fully furnished with all the updated equipment, but he hadn’t taken the time to figure out how to cook. He was able to heat up noodles, and that was as far as he was willing to go. Fruit, chocolate, candy, and sandwiches were what he lived on for the most part.
“Have you always killed people for a living?”
There was his little reporter shining through. He smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, I have. It’s something I’ve been trained to do from a young age.”
Her face paled. “How young?”
“Young enough to forget the parents that maybe loved me or not. I don’t know. I was taken from the street where I lived. I have a vague memory actually. I was around ten, I’m not sure. I don’t even have a clue how old I am.” He shrugged. “I’ve been fine with that. I just made my age up, and that’s what I go by.”
Her long, brown hair had come out of the bun that it had been held in. He watched as she ran her fingers through the long length. The glossy color looked smooth as silk. Her green eyes never once left him as she watched. He handed her another sandwich. Talking to her was kind of fun, even if totally out of character for him. Bain already knew that Boss was probably going through every single inch of Alexei Semenov place to see who had screamed “help me”. His life was going to get fucked up fast, but first, he just enjoyed talking to her.
Bain was a cold, hard killer who had taken out countless men and women over the years, and before that, children. He cut those memories off though because he couldn’t handle looking back that far. His life began the moment he was free and when he’d killed all those people that had trapped him.
“I can see you’ve got a lot of questions, and for some strange and bizarre reason, I actually want to talk to you. I know, it’s a shock, but I’m going to keep you alive long enough to tell my story. You better hope by the time that I’m finished that I like you enough.”
She was biting into her sandwich, her gaze not wavering, and then his cell phone buzzed. He continued to
eat, watching her.
“Can I bargain with you?” she asked.
“Depends what you want to bargain with?” He glanced down at her curves and knew without a doubt that she would be a perfect fit against him. The problem with that was he’d never take a woman’s body as a bargaining chip. He’d been forced to do that in the past, listen to women scream as he did what needed to be done to survive.
Over the past twenty plus years since his escape, he’d trawled the streets at night for something to do. Many times he’d passed a random alley to hear a woman beg for a guy to stop. Bain made them stop. There were some men he killed on the spot, especially if they reminded him of someone from his past.
“I want to hear what you’ve got to say. I can see that you really want to tell me. I’ve got nothing else to offer you.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve got a body there that is pure heaven, but you know what, let’s talk about talking. I like that. I think there is someone I’d love to tell my story to, and you’re just the person.”
She licked her lips, and he saw that he’d unnerved her. Good. He didn’t want her to think that for a second this was going to be a piece of cake. It wasn’t. His life story wasn’t easy, and no one would want to hear this.