Grave Vengeance by Lori Sjoberg Page B

The liquor store had carried a limited selection, but he’d managed to find a decent brand. He unscrewed the cap and filled one of the motel glasses halfway.
    “Want some?” He tilted the bottle in her direction.
    “No thanks.” Her nose crinkled. “How can you drink that shit straight?”
    Was she kidding? “It’s the way vodka’s meant to be drunk. Why would I dilute it?” At home, he kept a bottle of Russian Standard in the freezer. A few fingers at the end of the day dulled the edges off even the worst assignments.
    He raised the glass to his lips and drank, his eyes closing as he savored the flavor. The vodka went down smooth when he swallowed, leaving a warm trail in its wake. “Come on, just a little sip,” he said. “It’ll ease the ache in your shoulder.”
    At this point, the entry wound should have already healed. But the internal damage would take a while longer, and she’d suffer a fair amount of residual discomfort until her body completely recovered.
    She popped the top on a bottle of beer and pitched the cap in the trash can. “No, thank you. The shoulder’s fine.”
    “Chicken?” He couldn’t resist yanking her chain. There was something about the way those hazel eyes squinted that made his heart beat faster. Leaning back against his chair, he waited to see if she’d rise to the challenge.
    Her eyes narrowed the way he liked when she shot him a level stare. “I thought you said I was a bunny.”
    “Ah, yes. That’s right, zaika moya .” He bit back the urge to smile when her eyes narrowed further. It was sick, the way he enjoyed getting her all riled up. The flushed skin, those fiery eyes. In any other woman, he’d find it alluring. But even if he actually considered her attractive—and he most certainly did not—there was too much history between them. Too many lies. Too much hate. There was no such thing as mending fences when they’d never been built to begin with.
    He poured an ounce of vodka into an empty glass and nudged it in her direction. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid I’ll take advantage if you drink too much?”
    She paused, the pizza halfway to her mouth. “Like that would ever happen.”
    “You sound so sure.”
    Her chin jutted up. “That’s because I am. After all these years, I’ve come to realize there are few absolutes in life.” She ate a bite of pizza and washed it down with a swig of pale ale. “There will never be peace in the Middle East. I’ll never lose those last five pounds. And we will never, ever go down that road.”
    Still hungry, he grabbed another slice from the box. “I’ll agree with you on the Middle East, but what makes you think you need to lose five pounds?” From what he’d seen, she was in excellent shape. Maybe a little small up top, but it suited her athletic build.
    “Obviously, you haven’t noticed my ass.”
    Of course he had. He was a guy.
    “I’ve noticed everything.” He didn’t qualify the statement. It was much more fun to let her wonder.
    She blushed. Mission accomplished. “So what are we going to do with Tommy?” she asked.
    Deciding he’d given her enough shit for the evening, he let her change the subject. “I called one of my guys while you bought the pizza. He’s on his way up. He’ll keep Tommy on ice while we deal with Ziegler.” His mood sobered at the thought of their mission. So much for a simple apprehension. Had Samuel intentionally kept them in the dark about the true nature of their task? He’d be willing to bet his soul on it. “You did well today. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
    Gaze averted, she picked at the label on her beer bottle. “It could have been worse.”
    “True.” An old repressed memory unlocked in his mind, and he was back at the Pit. The walls were white, and the floor was concrete with a drain in the center. Williams and his men had strapped him down and attached electrodes to his body. They’d shocked him for hours and then beat him for refusing to