Dead Ringer (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #5) by Stacey Rourke

Author:Stacey Rourke [Rourke, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 45885118
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing
Published: 2019-06-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Reid’s voice rumbled from his chest in a growl that was more animal than man. “Do it again. Harder.”

Flicking a strand of sweat-soaked hair from my eyes, I filled my lungs to capacity. Throwing my shoulder into it, I rocketed my fist forward and clocked him in the chin… again.

His head jerked back, eyes glowing that menacing topaz. This time, his nostrils even twitched into a snarl.

One blink.

And another.

Then, it passed.

Shaking it off, Reid’s gaze snapped back to mine. “Why don’t you lose the boxing gloves and try it again? Or, maybe grab a weapon of some sort?” Turning in a slow circle, he scanned the empty gym. “Do you see anything you could deliver blunt-force trauma with?”

Arms falling slack at my sides, my shoulders sank with exhaustion. “Reid, we have literally been at this for hours. My pig is snoring, and that’s not any kind of weird metaphor. You’ve ran, jumped rope, beat on the heavy bag, and done more push-ups than any human ever could. The fact that we’ve been reduced to me sucker punching you should probably be where we wave the white flag and admit this isn’t working.”

“We’re so close. I can feel it.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Reid shook out his arms. “We’re scratching at the surface of it. I can feel the wolf trying to claw its way out. If we quit now—”

“We can sleep,” I cut in. Leaning back against a corner pole of the boxing ring, I sank down on the mats. “Whether we like it or not, you’ll be going up against those assholes with the crowbars tomorrow.” A quick glance at the wall clock and I amended that claim. “Correction, make that later today. Since we can’t get the wolf to come out and play, we at least need to get some rest. That’s the only way we can even remotely prepare for the runaway train of shit barreling straight for us.”

Wiping his forehead on the back of his arm, Reid slumped down next to me. “You keep saying we. This is my mess. You can skip out at any time, guilt free.”

“Can, but not going to.” Pinching the front collar of my t-shirt between two fingers, I waved the fabric back and forth. “Seriously, the amount of boob-sweat I’ve got going on is truly alarming.”

Letting his head loll to the side, Reid peered my way. “Why?”

Brow creased, I glanced down at my chest. “Well, I mean, I know they aren’t huge, but there’s still enough there for a little humidity to form.”

Reid snorted with laughter. “I meant, why are you helping me?”

Stretching out my legs, I allowed myself a brief moment of reflection before answering. “Before I came here, I had a run-in with a pod of beauty queen sirens.”

“That…” Reid trailed off as he considered the full ramifications of what I was saying, “sounds absolutely terrifying.”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Once I got past the ruffles, taffeta, and double homicide, it wasn’t that bad.

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