Read Online Return to Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia - Free Book Online Page B

tonight—she had to slap lights on as she went. She stretched and went to the knife-throwing area. The blades were already sharp, and they were gorgeously weighted. One after another she landed her mark: the dead center of the outline’s chest.
    She sensed him before she heard him, felt his breath on her neck.
    “Nice shot.”
    “Sneaking up on me is a quick way to die.” She ignored him and retrieved her knives. When she turned, she was armed to the teeth. But he held a hand grenade. If they’d been playing poker with weapons, he won.
    “That’s not what everyone thinks, apparently.” His gaze traveled over her.
    He was stupidly good-looking—so much so that most women would miss the sharkish look to his eyes. Eve knew his face and ran through her memories to figure out who he worked for. She couldn’t even pull up a name.
    She put the knives back on their platform. “Why are you here? I don’t have the energy for puzzles and riddles.” She picked up a jump rope and began her cardio workout.
    “I’m here to exercise, baby. Just like you.” He tossed the grenade in the air, pin still in. She didn’t look his way.
    After three sets of thirty, he was still watching, waiting. She narrowed her eyes. “What?” She tossed the rope and made her way to the punching bag.
    “Just watching the view.” He bit his full lip. He’d perfected the five o’clock shadow, as well as the placement of tattoos to highlight his muscles.
    Punching and kicking, she did her best to ignore him. Finally getting up a decent sweat, she switched again to the treadmill. The pounding of her feet and the sound of the machine were all she could hear.
    Still he waited. She could tell he was trying to unnerve her. It didn’t work, or at least she’d never let him see it. The minute she flinched or showed human emotions, it would be over. After her run, he remained, tossing his hand grenade from hand to hand like a tennis ball.
    She walked into the locker room. It was really just a place in the center of the warehouse with plumbing, divided by what looked like a long series of bathroom-stall doors. He followed her—obviously daring her to change in front of him or leave in her sweaty gear. Eve didn’t hesitate as she pulled off her clothes and started the shower. His gaze crawled over her body. She forced a shiver from her spine. She took her shower, taking time to shave her legs and condition her hair. She could tell he was still in the room.
    She dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and pulled her wet hair in to a ponytail. He was right behind her, looking in the mirror with her.
    “That was quite a show. Thanks. I bet Beckett loved getting that all the time.” He smirked.
    She thought about Beckett constantly, but she knew she’d closed her eyes at the unexpected mention of his name. She spun, and her brush clattered to the ground. She snagged his grenade mid-toss from one hand to the other. Holding his pants open, she pushed it inside and slipped her pinkie under the pin.
    “Speak. Tell me what you’re doing here.” She finally met his oily eyes, and in that instant his name came to her: Shark. It should have been so obvious.
    He rotated his hips, and she felt his penis pressing against her hand and the weapon.
    “Well, now there’s two explosive things in my pants. Feel free to get creative.” He smiled.
    “You’re wasting my time.” She pulled her hand out and tossed the grenade, pin still in place, back to him. He caught it, but fumbled a bit. She felt better since they’d both made mistakes now. She’d feel spectacular if she could remember who he worked for. Instead she grabbed her bag from her locker and walked past him.
    Before she could get to the main door, he caught her arm. She faced him, nearly nose to nose.
    “Did it ever occur to you that I’m here to help you?” He was perfect, even up close. And he smelled amazing.
    “No. Because you’re not.” She wrenched her arm free just as two more “patrons”