“Get the fuck out of here, cub,” he rasps and leans his head back on the wall again, closing his eyes. “Stupid girl.” I slide my gun from behind my back and press the barrel to his chest, just over his heart. “Stupid, but armed.” Those magnificent eyes snap open. He holds my gaze as he wraps his fingers around the barrel and shifts the gun, butting it up against the bridge of his nose. “Do me a favor. Don’t miss.” His voice is flat, lackadaisical, as if his life means nothing.
