11 by Kylie Brant Read Free Book Online

Mia increased the pressure against his throat. He wasn’t taking her seriously, but he should. There had been a few others in recent years that had underestimated her, to their regret. Right now she was half convinced he’d sold her information to Four and the demon that had enslaved them both. Paranoia was running high, warring with reason.
    “I’m not fond of knives.” The humor had vanished from his voice. “Normal enough reaction, after someone tried to peel my face off with one.” With the speed of a striking snake his hand came up to clamp her wrist, while he pivoted toward her. Anticipating his move she pulled away, kicking his half bent knee while he was turning and danced out of reach.
    “Nice move.” The compliment was delivered with almost clinical detachment. “You shouldn’t attempt to use a knife in close proximity with someone so much taller. It’s too easy to be overpowered, and you’re limited by your shorter reach.”
    “Am I?” Her tone was derisive, her gazed fixed on his. “And yet here I am, still armed.”
    “Only because I’m more interested in eating than in hurting you.” He started for the door. Stopped when she deliberately stepped in his way.
    “As I said, you have some explaining to do.”
    He spread his arms. “You want to slice me up? Go ahead. Aim for a major artery. Any other place and you risk the chance that I just take it away and use it on you.” A moment ticked by. She didn’t move. “No? Then I’m going back into the hall to get the food I left out there. We can eat while we talk.”
    She let him go because she didn’t doubt that he’d return. Either because he didn’t take her seriously, or because he was that confident of his own defensive abilities. Probably both. Still wary, Mia lowered the knife to her side but didn’t put it away. She wasn’t without defensive moves of her own.
    He reentered the room, stopping to relock it before striding to the bed, paper bags in his hands. She watched as he removed boxes from the bags, spreading them across the bed before he rummaged for plates, chopsticks, napkins and plastic silverware. “I had to do some fast talking to get her to include plates. Picnic must be a universally understood word.” He knelt in front of the bed and nonchalantly filled a plate, as if used to having an armed woman standing near him, only degrees away from doing him harm. Given his personality, maybe it was a common occurrence.
    “There’s no way Four found me without help.” Her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But she made no move toward the food. “I was too careful.”
    Bishop sat on his haunches, plate balanced in one hand while he expertly wielded chopsticks with the other. “Yet here she is. You must have screwed up. Left a trail.”
    The accusation had her fingers curling more tightly around the hilt of the knife. “Or you sold my information to her.”
    He paused, the chopsticks midway to his lips. “Why would I do that?”
    Mia jerked a shoulder. “The same reason people do anything. Money. Greed. Sex. Power. Pick one.”
    “None of the above.” He continued eating, working around the different dishes he’d served on the plate. “You got complacent. It happens when people are on the run for too long. You must have let something slip to the wrong person. Made a phone call that could be traced. Left a cyber trail. It doesn’t take much for someone with the right motivation and resources to pick up on.”
    She could have told him that complacency and carelessness set in only when people began feeling safe. Mia doubted she’d ever experience that particular emotion again. “Seems a lot of work when all she’d have to do is go to you. If you didn’t sell the information outright—and I’m not convinced you didn’t—maybe she hacked your computer files.”
    He laughed at that, seeming genuinely amused. “Not a chance. And if she had she wouldn’t have found the information