Page 11 of Pulse Zero
It doesn’t budge.
It won’t.
When he realizes that, he starts banging on it instead, screaming forsomebody.Anybody. Help.
Someone else who does what I do for a living might find some sick satisfaction from his panic and desperation. Right now, I’m not the slightest bit amused.
Right now, he’s an inconvenience.
I raise my gun and rack the slide, the sound echoing around the concrete basement.
Now it’s Cason’s turn to freeze.
Even though I’m staring at the back of his head, I can practically see him running through all his options in his mind. And then there’s that moment where he realizes he has only one.
His head drops in defeat, and I can just barely make out the whispered, “Fuck.”
Slowly, he turns. His eyes fall to the gun in my hand, held low and casually but pointed directly up at him. His chin trembles the faintest bit before he sets his jaw, swallows hard, and makes his way cautiously back down the stairs. He comes to stand a few feet in front of me and swallows again.
“Sorry?” He says it like a question, a small, shaky grin on his lips.
Unfortunately, I know I need to teach him a lesson so this shit doesn’t happen again.
I close the distance in two strides.
Cason barely has time to flinch before my hand catches the back of his neck. I twist him around, using his own momentum against him as he stumbles, and slam him forward into the wall beside his open door. His palms hit first, then his cheek.
“Keep your hands on the wall,” I say, calm and even.
He’s shaking, but he does what I say.
I press my forearm between his shoulder blades, pinning him there. His breath comes fast and shallow, and the moment Ihave the barrel of my gun pressed against the back of his head, it ceases completely.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t blow your fucking head off,” I growl in his ear.
“The blood would be a bitch to clean up.”
I clench my jaw and press the gun a little harder.
He whimpers, “I said I was sorry!”
“This is what happens when you fucking test me.”
What he does next is just about the last thing I expect. No, itisthe last thing I expect.
He shoves his ass back, rubbing it against my crotch.
I amnotokay with how much this fucking kid is catching me off guard.
I press my arm harder into his back and my gun harder against his head. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Giving you a reason,” he says breathlessly.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not gay.”
“Neither am I. I don’t have a preference.”
“Idohave a preference.”
