Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy) by C. L. Stone Page B

until the end of the gun was pointed to one of the targets behind my head. “I’m already a step ahead of you. What do you do?”
    I remained quiet, unsure.
    “I’m robbing the store,” Raven said. He wriggled the gun toward the wall. “I’m getting all the money. People are scared, on the floor. I’m screaming at the nervous cashier. Kids are crying.” He got up, walking the long way around the table, coming to stand by the bed, the gun still pointed at his target. He loomed over me. “You’ve got an automatic in your pocket. You’re possibly the only other person in the store with a gun. What next?”
    I frowned. I had an answer, but I didn’t like it.
    “Come on, little thief,” he said. His brown eyes were intense and unrelenting as he stared at me. “Stand up. Show me what you can do.”
    My heart pounded in my chest, and I rose slowly, leaving the gun on the bed. I stepped away from it so I was standing clear.
    “You’ve left your gun,” he said.
    “I know.”
    He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not going to use it?”
    “No.”
    The corner of his mouth lifted and he stepped closer, toe to toe with me, enough so my breasts brushed up against his chest. He angled his elbow, until I felt cool steel at my temple. I didn’t have to look. I knew he had the gun pointed at me. “Why not?”
    I resisted the urge to back away, staring back into his face.
    “Why Kayli?” He leaned in, until his nose hovered over mine. His dark brows furrowed as he challenged me with his eyes. “I’ve got the gun.”
    “But you aren’t shooting,” I said, trying to sound calm even with my heart thundering. I could smell gun oil and a musky scent from his body. His chest moved as he breathed heavily, in and out, brushing against me. A reaction stirred in my nipples and I tried to ignore it. I wasn’t afraid. I was excited, my skin electrified. Because of the guns, or the threat of violence, or maybe just him; I didn’t want to think of why.
    “I could shoot,” he said, the tip of the gun pressed into my temple. “One wrong look. One little breath in the wrong place, I might just make the pull.”
    “But you aren’t,” I said. I tilted my head away from his gun, and the gun followed until I was looking away from him at the floor. “You’re not shooting. You’re only pointing a gun.”
    “So?”
    “So if I start waving a gun, you will shoot. Isn’t it better if I let you take the money and leave?”
    His head leaned in, his lips traced my ear. His nose shifted through my hair. “Is it? Are you sure?”
    I shivered warmly. He was so close and at the same time, I sensed he was toying with me. It almost scared me how much it turned me on. I breathed in slowly to focus. “I’m sure I wouldn’t start waving a gun at someone trying to steal money and run away. If I had to rob a store like that, I wouldn’t shoot. I’d just want the money. So if as a bystander, I shoot, you may be so panicked, you start shooting everyone. If I stay quiet and let you leave, you might have the money, but no one’s been hurt.”
    He backed his head up. The tip of the gun eased at my temple, and traced down my cheek, sliding further along the side of my neck. I straightened, finding his brown eyes.
    The corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s not often I get the right answer on the first try,” he said. He smirked. “Then again, you do think like a criminal.”
    I grunted, rolling my eyes.
    “That’s not a bad thing. Training honest men to think like a criminal is much harder. No one wants to turn their minds to always thinking at that angle. Everyone wants to be the hero and find the right solution, and win all. Letting a criminal get away for now is hard for honest people to consider.” He raised the gun tip until he had the barrel planted under my chin, drawing it up until I was looking back at him. “But if you’ve already got the criminal instinct, then you don’t have to think. It becomes natural. You can’t be one