Free Camouflage (Predator and Prey #1) by Angelica Chase Page A

and pedaled hard. I held on tightly to the handlebars and felt a sharp high as the breeze sifted through my hair. Over confident, I failed to balance and I fell on my side the first ten seconds then cradled my arm that was full of embedded rocks.
    “Shit,” I heard behind me. “I told you I would hold on.” I turned to admit defeat but Laz simply wiped the dust off of me and picked up the bike. “Get back on.”
    “No,” I said quickly. My arm was burning and I was sure I was bleeding.
    “Hmph,” he said defiantly. “Didn’t picture you as a chicken shit. It’s a scratch, Red. You want to ride a bike, here’s your chance.” I didn’t need to look at him to see he was disappointed. I was crushed. Taking a deep breath, I made my decision and reseated on the bike.
    I didn’t wait for Laz to react and took off again on my own, but before I could get my first push out, Laz stopped me by gripping the bars and the back of my seat.
    “Hardheaded or stupid, you can’t be both,” he snapped. “Hardheaded will get you your way sometimes but stupid will get you hurt. Which one are you?”
    Without hesitation, I answered. “Hardheaded.” Smiling into the darkness, I pushed hard on the peddle, ripping myself from his grip. That time I made it almost thirty seconds before falling, but when I got back up, I made it to the end of the road. I didn’t need to see Laz’s face or even hear his congratulations to know somewhere at the opposite of the dark road he was smiling.
    Jumping in my seat at the horn incessantly sounding behind me, I turned onto the highway as the car blew past me, still blaring their horn with a friendly one-finger salute. I shook thoughts away of anything Lazarus, but not before I noted that I was no longer just dreaming about him. He was in my thoughts again, invading my days. I turned the radio up and stopped at the next light, turning the rearview toward me, expecting to see the bleach covered eleven year old with bright, frizzy red hair. The woman in front of me was perfectly put together, her now dark auburn hair sleekly knotted at the top of her head, perfectly applied lipstick, and aviator shades covered any telltale sign of her age.
    I’m not there and he’s not here.
    Irony struck then as a biker crossed the walk in front of me. Deciding I needed a drink as the sun faded, I turned into my condo prepared to dine seaside and quench my thirst. Walking into my home, I set my alarm and out of new habit watched as it remained armed. Two steps into my living room, I froze as the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. It was too late for me to get out of the condo. I lunged for my curio cabinet, taking out my .38mm. It wasn’t my gun of choice, but it would do in a pinch. I crept toward my bedroom, my cell phone in hand, as I surveyed the house. If someone was waiting for me, they were aware I was here. Creeping closer toward my bedroom, I stopped at the noise of water falling.
    The shower.
    It was probably a distraction. Turning quickly into my bedroom, prepared to shoot and ask questions later, I saw it was clear and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice.
    “If you are going to use the .38 on me, you might want to make sure your aim isn’t off. Bullet wounds just anger me. Then again, you like me angry.”
    I noted the suitcase next to my nightstand and sighed in relief as I let the gun trail to my hip then turned to see the source of the noise, gloriously naked through the shower glass. Putting the gun on the counter, I crossed my arms.
    “You will never figure it out, so give up,” he mused, his beautiful ass on full display as he soaped his hands and I fumed over his security breach. “Though I have to admit, it took a while to get through this new one,” he murmured, crossing his hands over his chest to his thick arms to rinse the soap away. The man was huge, and on full display. I could see every indention, every perfect, God given carving on the surface of