She scowls at me and the gun dips just a little. “Why do you keep helping me? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with everything else going on?”

I tilt my head, studying her. She’s managed to get better clothes thankfully. It’ll serve to protect her, but she can’t be out here alone. She’s resourceful, clearly, since she’s already befriended another threat who waits for her cue to shoot me. He’s at her beck and call. A soldier. But I’m no soldier.

“A man who Preys on women is a coward,” is my answer, but my eyes trail over to Creed. “Is this one friend or foe?”

I’m not asking if he’s an enemy really. Clearly, he’s not or he would have already shot me. The real question is if she wants me to get rid of him, and I know she sees it in my eyes. She could have chosen him out of necessity rather than any actual desire, and if she did, and he’s already hurt her—

“Friend,” she says quickly. “He’s been helping me.”

“Good,” I grunt. “Someone played a cruel trick by bringing you here.”

The scowl on her face deepens and her anger is endearing. I want to kiss the scowl from her face, but I dare not poke the rabbit.

“What?” she spits. “Because I’m a helpless damsel.”

“Because you stir the pot on both sides, little rabbit,” I correct her. “Because you’re as much a distraction to the other assholes as you are to the hunters.” I take in her build, the muscles on her body gained from practice. “You’re no doubt strong, especially considering you’ve survived so far, but that matters not in this game. You don’t fit the profile like the others.”

She shrugs and lowers her gun completely. Only then does the other man follow suit, tucking his gun away, trusting her instinct. He doesn’t ask, clearly understanding that the woman is safe with me, but he eyes me just the same, wondering.

“So I don’t have a dick,” she says. A dirty mouth. How I love a woman with a dirty mouth. “Big deal. I can handle myself.”

I smile. “Oh, I have no doubt about that, little rabbit.” I bend at the waist in a bow. “You may call me Jiro.”

“Billie,” she says, offering her hand to shake. “You can call me Billie rather than fucking rabbit.” I take her hand without hesitation, feeling her slim fingers in mine, and it makes me want to drag her closer. I can’t help but smile at her aversion to me calling her rabbit, but that’s what she is. She’s a rabbit dropped in amidst hounds, a juicy morsel, and she’d do well to remember that.

“And the big guy is Creed,” she adds when he doesn’t immediately introduce himself.