Read Present Tense (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 2) Online
Authors: Alana Matthews
Present Tense (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 2) (15 page)
I watched them with a slight twinge of envy as I made my way to the middle of the bus and sat down, sliding over to the window. There was something beautiful about Hunter City at night, and the thought of watching the lights go by as the rumble of the engine filled my ears was a comforting one. But just as the doors were about to close, someone shouted and a figure stepped into the door well.
My heart kicked up as a guy in his late twenties climbed onto the bus, dropped his coins, and headed down the aisle to find a seat.
Oh. My. God.
The guy—if you could call him just a guy—was broad-shouldered, with narrow swimmer's hips, nicely cut jeans and pair of hands that served as proof that he wasn't a man of leisure. His skin was textured and tanned and well lived in, his short but stylishly unkempt hair framed a face that was David Beckham handsome, and he was tall enough that his head nearly touched the ceiling as he worked his way toward a seat.
I'm not the kind of girl who usually embarrasses herself by openly drooling, but after weeks of self-induced carnal deprivation (save the occasional solo adventure), it took every bit of my waning willpower to keep my chin dry.
He glanced at me as he approached, transmitting an electric charge that rocketed straight through my central nervous system, and if he'd asked me right then and there to engage in the kind of activity that was currently in progress at the back of the bus—well, I'm not entirely sure I would've said no.
Seriously.
He was that good-looking.
But a glance was all it was, showing me the bluest of blue eyes I'd ever seen. Then a moment later he turned and sat, putting his back to me as if I were about as significant as the ad for pest control posted above his seat.
Just for the record, I don't consider myself an unattractive girl. Oh, I have my bad days when I look in the mirror and think my nose could be a little shorter and I could stand to lose a few pounds. I might even consider getting a boob lift now and then, but at the end of the day, I think I look pretty damn good. And to say I didn't feel a bit slighted by this guy's disinterest would be a flat out lie.
But there it was, and there I was, getting all riled up over something that was never going to happen. His obvious disinterest aside, I allowed myself to fantasize a bit, thinking of beaches and bare chests and six-pack abs and sinewy hands that knew just what to do and where to do it.
I was working those images pretty good, thinking I might forego dinner and get reacquainted with my Hitachi Magic Wand tonight, when the guy suddenly turned and looked at me again, his gaze hard and uncompromising.
"Don't get too comfortable, Duncan. We're getting off at the next stop."
I blinked at him.
Say what?
Was he talking to
me
?
I didn't know anyone named Duncan, so I turned my head to check behind me. But all I saw were the two teenagers still going at it as if nobody else in the world existed.
I was about to throw an "I beg your pardon?" at the guy, when I heard a loud roar just outside my window, and a big black SUV rolled up alongside us.
This, in itself, was nothing out of the ordinary, but what happened next certainly was.
The rear passenger window of the SUV slid downward, revealing a man with very cold eyes who pointed the muzzle of an enormous black gun in my direction.
Holy Jesus.
Someone shouted, "Get down!"—
—then the muzzle flashed and hands grabbed hold of my jacket, yanking me toward the floor, the contents of my shoulder bag spilling everywhere as the window next to me shattered into a million and one pieces.
And in that moment, the world as I knew it changed forever.
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