Chantilly Lace by Em Woods

Author:Em Woods [Woods, Em]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

He was being too damn quiet.

Like a rabbit caught in a corner, itching for an out.

Murk, more than willing to take on the big bad wolf role, watched Shea as he picked at the grilled chicken salad in front of him. His own steak might as well have been a cardboard prop for all he had eaten.

“Food not any good?”

Murk saw the words form on Shea’s lips, a small drop of dressing caught on the corner of his mouth. Unable to resist, Murk swept the pad of his thumb across it then sucked his finger clean. The tang of Italian burst over his tongue, a direct contrast to what Shea tasted like. “The food is fine. But I’m worried I’m not keeping your attention.”

Shea mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like too damn much before he stuffed his mouth full of lettuce. Murk allowed a small grin to surface, which earned him a glare. Shea finished with the bite, then stabbed the fork in the air between them. “Do you even have a job?”

There it is. Back on familiar ground, or close to familiar anyway, for Shea. Murk nodded. “I wondered when you’d get around to that.”

“Well, now we’re to it.” There was a definite pout to Shea’s voice. An intentional one.

Murk settled his fork on his plate, wondering just how far this interrogation would go. If Shea would like the answers when they got there. “No.”

“No, we’re not there, or no, you don’t have a job?”

“No job.” Murk watched Shea’s eyes narrow. “Or, at least, not a full-time one.”

That seemed to register with Shea. “You have a part-time job that pays enough to live at the Harbors? Unlikely.”

“The kind of job I have—or had —isn’t like working at McDonald’s, Shea. It’s the kind that most people don’t ask questions about.” Murk leaned forward, making sure he had Shea’s attention. “It’s the kind that most men don’t talk about when they have it.”

Which was the truth. Being a sniper for the government wasn’t an occupation one claimed on his W-2. Though now he only went once or twice each year, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it at all.

Shea gasped. “Are you… Is it illegal?”

There was enough indignation there for Murk to know Shea would get up and leave if he thought Murk were into the kind of thing that would cause trouble. “It’s sanctioned.”

“By who?”

Murk grinned. “The good guys.”

This time Shea snorted. “You can tell who that is these days?”

“True enough.” Murk toyed with his water glass. “But, back to your question, yes it pays enough to live at the Harbors. And it pays enough that I have a substantial bank account too.”

“How long have you been doing that kind of thing?” Shea sounded interested now. He was eating, rather than picking, and his gaze remained fastened on Murk.

“I joined the Army right out of high school.” He pushed his plate out of the way. This kind of conversation soured his appetite and the steak was cold. “After

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