Page 12 of Chasing Kit

War stared at me, his brown eyes flickering dangerously. He shushed me again, then removed his hand from my mouth and reached for the Glock in his belt holster.

“Kit, you gotta let us know you’re in there.” The stranger’s tone hardened. “Our friend wants to meet you.”

War bared his teeth as he sidled up against the wall behind the door. For such a large man, his footsteps were silent, nothing more than a ghost’s. He nodded at me, and I understood what he wanted without a word.

Sucking in a breath, I said, “I’m here. Come in.”

I wasn’t sure they could enter, as they shouldn’t have a key card. But a stranger had brought me clothes earlier, suggesting someone had a way in. Sure enough, the card reader beeped, and the door opened. A middle-aged man with a violent sneer and scars around his mouth stepped into the room. He had a belt holster like War’s, with a handgun resting in it. At the sight of him, my danger senses immediately tingled, and I stood, sliding along the bed to back away.

“Kit. Come on.” He reached for his gun. Another man, who looked much like him, entered the room, already clutching a handgun.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

The man with the scars smirked. “To take you to our friend.”

My back hit the closet and my hands shot up. “Okay, okay, look, we don’t have to do this,” I stammered, my voice cracking. “Whatever your friend wants, just tell them I’ll cooperate. There’s no need for guns.”

“No.” The scarred man raised his gun, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

The room fell into chaos and I ducked for safety. Shouts of pain echoed alongside gunshots. I covered my head, air exhaling heavily through my nose. I hummed a song Dad used to sing to me when I was terrified as a kid. He’d always been the one who scared off the big, bad monsters. Now he was that boogeyman.

Silence fell.

“Kit, you’re safe,” War said.

Taking a shuddery breath, I rose on wobbly knees and glanced around.

The two strangers lay on the floor. Blood pooled around the scarred man’s head, leaking from a hole in the back of his skull. The second man had been shot multiple times—once in the leg, and another in his temple. I had never seen a corpse, and the sight made me queasy and lightheaded. Dizziness washed over me, and I nearly fell forward, but War caught me. I didn’t have the strength to fight as he threw me over his shoulder, my arms hanging loose and my head lolling against his back.

“Don’t vomit,” he growled furiously. “We don’t want DNA evidence left here.”

I heaved, pressing my face into the rough fabric of his jacket. The smell of gunpowder and something metallic—blood—filled my senses. It hit me then, a realization so sharp it felt like another blow. His name—War—wasn’t just a name. He was a weapon. A killer who didn’t just see battle, but embodied it. And he spilled blood for my father.

He carried me down the street, and I let him. I lacked the energy to resist. When we reached a silver Lexus, he opened the passenger door and effortlessly dumped me inside. I flopped against the seat.

“My phone,” I grunted, surprised I could speak. “It was on the bed.”

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

My head lolled against the headrest as I focused on breathing, trying to keep from being sick. If War hadn’t shown up, I’d be dead. Fuck! My anonymous “friend” was just as dangerous as my father. Going back with War meant accepting that world—the one where he wasn’t just a bodyguard, but a killer. The life I’d had before was gone.

I grabbed the handle and opened the door, but I didn’t get far. War was back, and he shoved it closed again. I glared, but he pointed a warning finger at me before walking around to the driver’s side. He tossed my phone onto my lap.

“Buckle up.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I met his gaze. He grunted, leaned over, and dragged the seat belt across my body, buckling it in one swift motion. Then, his massive hand grasped my chin. “Your father is out of his mind with worry. And you? You were seconds away from being in a body bag.”

I gritted my teeth. “Dad lied to me.”

“To protect you.” His grip tightened, and a spike of pleasure shot through me, heading south to my cock.

An image of what else he could do with his strength flashed through my mind. Like him throwing me on the bed before taking me the way I wanted him to, leaving bruises on my hips after holding me too tight as he fucked me. I shuddered.

“Your dad’s life isn’t black and white, but he does the best he can for you.” War’s tone softened, but his gaze remained narrowed.

“He kills people.” I grabbed War’s wrist, attempting to yank his hand away, but he held firm, his grip on my chin tightening. “He’s a killer.”

“Maybe.” His nostrils flared. “But I’ve killed more.”

I froze, the reality of his words sinking in. He’d murdered people. War was a criminal, too. That should’ve terrified me, made me as angry as the thought of Dad being one, but it didn’t. My stomach stirred, and a peculiar sensation tingled inside me. He finally pulled away, clearly finished making his point, and started the Lexus. My gaze slid to him, unable to look away from the strong features of his face and jaw. He took up a lot of space in the small, sporty car, and his hands were huge around the steering wheel. It took all my willpower to drag my attention away from him.