Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page B

frightened as many men did. Not in the least. Rosa’s stomach did a flip.
    “Are you going to torture me?” He sounded remarkably composed about the whole thing, more than anyone she’d ever encountered. His tone was almost academic curiosity, and maybe a quirk of amusement.
    “We’re not monsters.”
    “And this?” he asked, gesturing to his weapon.
    Rosa closed the shadowy distance between them. They locked gazes for far too long. “Hand it over.”
    A cat’s grin shaped the masculine lips she’d admired. “If I’m gonna get rolled, I expect to get laid first.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “If it’s true that I’m just here for a test, then you can leave them with me. I don’t want them stolen—no offense. They won’t give me any advantage if I’m a skinwalker, and I’d have used them already if I wanted to cause trouble.”
    “You seem to think you’re the boss of Valle. Funny.” She snapped her fingers.
    Rio and Manuel grabbed his arms, but again he offered no resistance as they bound him with rope. That took the satisfaction out of claiming his satchel and his Beretta.
    “I’ve never run across a skinwalker that could keep from shifting when he’s tied up in the dark,” Rosa said. “Something about the stress brings the change.”
    “How long?”
    “Eight hours will do it. Not long enough to cause you any harm. If you need to piss, Rio will help you before he leaves.”
    The kid shot her a look that said he’d rather die, but she already knew what Chris would say. “I’m fine. Water’s been scarce.”
    She nodded. “For a human, this is uncomfortable. For a skinwalker, it’s pure hell. We have to know the truth, and this is the easiest way. See you on the other side.”
    He shrugged again, with a carelessness that was fast getting under her skin. “Lights out, then.”
    “Yep. Lights out.” Rosa scaled the rope ladder, not looking back. She already knew that whether he proved human or skinwalker, Chris Welsh was dangerous.

FOUR
     
    The darkness in the root cellar was complete. Chris lay on a lumpy mattress, weary beyond all bearing, but hunger wouldn’t let him sleep. He had given up on looking for shadows and shapes, but noises came to him in choppy bursts, keeping him company: an impatient shout, chains being dragged along concrete, laughter, distant music.
    To think these people had Rosa Cortez to thank for such a miracle of humanity made Chris a little nauseous. What, exactly, had he managed? When all the columns were tabulated, he’d caused more harm than good—the opposite of the doctor he’d claimed to be.
    His stomach grumbled, so he closed his eyes and allowed a moment of pure indulgence. He considered Rosa. A deceptively small woman built for battle, but she also offered intriguing hints of softness. Something about her turned his mind to sin.
    Rather than think about her all at once, which was like ripping open every Christmas present as fast as possible, he picked her lips. For now, just her lips. Sneers and smirks were not the stuff of poetry, but Shakespeare had never seen a smile like hers. The upper curve had been rimmed with sweat, while the full flesh of the lower lip was chapped—or gently gnawed. Did she get nervous? Was that her release?
    He couldn’t wait to see more. She was succulent fruit in the midst of a wasteland.
    Literally.
    Of course he was hard. Eight months was a long time to go without. The last woman had been anonymous, someone he’d fucked for the release and a night’s shelter. She hadn’t told him her name and he hadn’t asked. Such encounters had marked his years alone. His last loving touch had come from Ange—who was dead because he’d failed her. He exhaled heavily. His burgeoning arousal withered. Eyes open, he found only more darkness, but it was better than memories of blood.
    How many hours had passed? Chris wondered how long Jenna would have been able to stomach being bound and abandoned in the dark before going wolf. A hell of a