Kinks and Crosshairs (It's a Kink Thing) by M.C. Roth

Author:M.C. Roth [Roth, M.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBTQIA Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2022-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Henley

His palms were clammy as he was escorted out of the building and onto the street like a lamb being let to slaughter by a team of over-muscled farmers. The guards disappeared the moment he was out of the doors, leaving him shivering and woozy in the sunlight.

Swallowing dryly, he scratched at his wrist where a new tracker lay beneath the small cut that had already started to heal. It had been no larger than a microchip, but he’d still squealed when they had punched it into his skin. It ached, too, and moved under his skin when he nudged it with his finger. At least it didn’t glow.

Shelia had known that he wouldn’t cut off his own arm, and that he couldn’t retrieve it with his left without causing some damage to his nerves or worse. One slip of a knife to the delicate tissues where it lay and he risked bleeding out or paralyzing his fingers.

I gotta get it out. He scratched at the skin, dried blood lifting away from the bruised dot.

His friends were dust, except for the few he had made when he’d joined the kink club. There was no one there who knew his real name and actually had a hint about what he really did for a living except a select few, including Clint. Clint had been a nurse, too, and probably had hands that were steady as fuck.

But going to the club would put them all in danger now that Henley was being followed. And he was sure that someone was following him. No one drove black SUVs unless they were doing something bad…or planning to.

He shook out his hand, wincing at the ping of nerves that crawled along his wrist. His T-shirt was too chilly for the autumn air that had grown brisk as the sun started to fade. Shadows dug their claws into the well-lit street, turning every alley and walkway into an enemy.

They hadn’t even given him a gun. He was too much of a risk.

He would have done the same thing if he had been in Shelia’s position. Actually, he would have put a bullet in the head of any agent who went AWOL after sleeping with a target. But he had always been on the cautious side, whereas Shelia liked to tread the line.

Scrubbing up and down his arms, he turned into the first alley past the office, sinking into the shadows and wrapping them around his skin. A stray cat hissed at him as he passed a bursting dumpster, the acrid scent bringing tears to his eyes. Dumpster cats were the worst.

He had two options stretching ahead of him. Well three, really.

The first was a definite death sentence. He could make a run for it and try to have his tracker removed before his fellow agents caught up. He was good, but he wasn’t good enough to pull it off solo.

From there, only two choices remained. The short way, where he turned back to meet the footsteps that had sidled up behind him shortly after he had left the building.

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