Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

“I knew he was trouble, that guy. You’re too trusting of
people, Nat. You need to be more careful.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Give me my
purse.”
“You don’t know who I’m talking about? Does this ring a
bell?”
From inside his jacket pocket, he pulls a folded piece of
paper. Tucking my clutch under his arm, he unfolds the paper
and hands it to me.
It’s a black-and-white pencil sketch of a man’s head and
face. Despite my horror, I have to admit that the resemblance
is remarkable.
It’s Kage.
Even in a rough, two-dimensional, hand-drawn sketch,
he’s so damn gorgeous, it takes my breath away. If there were
an international Hot Felon Contest, he’d win it, hands down.
“That’s a police sketch of one of the suspects in last night’s
shooting. A couple of restaurant employees got a good look at
him…right before he shot two guys point blank. Does he look
familiar to you?”
“No.”
Chris is getting exasperated. He shakes his head, glaring at
me. “That’s your next-door neighbor, Nat. The guy who
threatened me right here on this very porch.”
I send his glare back to him, tripled. “Oh, you mean when
you forced yourself on me as I kept saying no? Yeah, I
remember that.”
A Mexican standoff commences. We’re two bandoleros
with pistols drawn, facing each other across a dusty corral,
neither one willing to run or shoot first.
Finally, he says softly, “Are you fucking him?”
Heat rises in my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about
it. “My personal life is none of your business. Now give me
back my purse and get the hell off my property.”