The new goddamn freaking diver. “I thought you were . . .”
“I know. Rapist. Killer. Pirate. I got the picture.”
“It’s only five percent nitric acid,” she said as she led him through the shadowed lab.
“It’ll still burn you. And scar.” She turned to look over her shoulder. His gaze was sharp as steel and trained directly on her bare bottom.
Flynn had told them they were getting a new diver. But he failed to tell them the new guy was tall, dark, and so far past handsome that he was in another time zone. And she’d tried to burn that face?
He nudged her into the hallway and the first cabin, then whipped open the door to the head, a typical combination toilet and shower in one fiberglass closet.
With one hand, he shoved her into the tiny area, lifting the shower hose off its hook as he flicked the water knob.
“You know what they say, don’t you, Lizzie Dare?” He stepped inside, stealing every remaining inch of space with his big, bare body. He pulled the door firmly behind him and looked down at her with a dangerous gleam in his eye as he pointed the ice-cold spray right at her breasts. “Payback’s a bitch.”
Roxanne St. Claire, Hunt Her Down
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