pleasantly.
I was sick and tired of being scared. The threat made my stomach do flip-flops, but I did
my best not to let my face show it. “Is threatening people with rape your answer to every
problem?”
“I do find it’s remarkably effective,” he responded with a dry edge in his voice. “And it’s
far less ostentatious than grabbing you and dragging you kicking and screaming out the door.”
I hated being bullied, but I didn’t have much choice but to give in—for the moment.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s go see Anderson.”
Blake fixed me with a long, penetrating stare. I had a feeling he knew I wasn’t the type to
give up so easily. I gave him my best innocent look. I had no intention of setting foot within ten
miles of Anderson and his Hand of Doom, but I didn’t want to give Blake an excuse to practice
his unique method of coercion on me. I’d never realized sex could be so effectively weaponized.
I don’t know if my feigned innocence convinced Blake, or if he merely decided he was in
too strong a position for me to give him trouble. Whatever the reason, he slipped out of the
booth, and I was mildly surprised to see him throw a ten-dollar bill on the table. He hadn’t struck
me as the generous type, but not only was he paying for my coffee—and Alexis’s—he was
leaving the waitress a sizeable tip. He reached for my arm as I stood up, but I quickly danced out of reach.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I warned. “I’m coming with you peacefully, but you
touch me and all bets are off.”
He gave me one of his malicious grins. My threat was an empty one when he could use
his creepy power to force me to come along, but I didn’t want him touching me if I could help it.
Getting away from him was going to be hard enough without having to break free of his grasp.
My threat might have had no teeth, but Blake didn’t try to grab me again. He led me out
of the diner and onto K Street, keeping a careful eye on me. I hoped he wasn’t parked too close,
because I needed some time to come up with an escape plan. The gun was in my backpack, so
even if I were willing to wave it around on a crowded street, I couldn’t. He was walking close
enough that I doubted I’d have the foot-speed to just bolt and hope to outrun him. Which meant I
needed a distraction of some kind. Something to keep him busy long enough to give me a
sizeable head start.
I scanned the streets and sidewalks for something that could help. Finally, I caught sight
of two tough-looking black guys leaning against a wall as they eyed Blake’s approach. Both
were big and imposing, and at just the right age to be eager to prove their manhood. There was a
predatory light in their eyes as they looked Blake up and down.
Like I said, Blake was a pretty boy, his hair moussed to look casually tousled, his clothes
obviously expensive. The classic metrosexual. To a bigoted young punk looking for trouble,
“metrosexual” meant “gay.” Despite the fact that he’d used his aura against Alexis, I was pretty
sure Blake didn’t swing that way.
Blake didn’t seem to notice the punks, not even when one of them whistled at him and
the other made kissy noises. From their body language, I doubted they were planning to do
anything more than harass Blake, unless he was hot-headed enough to engage with them. But I
suspected they would be just the kind of distraction I needed.
I looked straight ahead, pretending not to pay any attention to them. There was a
dangerous glitter in Blake’s eyes, one that said he was seriously considering stopping to teach the
punks some manners. I didn’t know if he had any powers beyond lust, but I suspected he was
more than a match for these two, despite appearances. I also suspected he was going to control
his aggressive urges, knowing full well that I’d make a run for it if he tried anything. So I
decided to take the choice out of his hands.
Timing my move
Learning to Kill: Stories