Setting the Price

The woman was, without a doubt, the most lethal piece of eye candy on the entire block.

The torrential rain had soaked her silk nightgown completely through, plastering the fabric to her body like a transparent second skin.

Yet, she didn’t tremble in terror like the others. Instead, she tilted her stunning face upward and flashed a calculated smile straight into my security camera.

She wasn't begging for rescue.

She was leveraging her own body as cold, hard currency.

"Tell me what you have first," I barked into the intercom.

"People died at the convenience store," she said. "Ryan abandoned his two boys and tore off in the truck. Right now, Derek is leading a crew to lock down the street, seizing all food and weapons. Anyone who doesn't hand them over gets thrown out."

I kept my eyes locked on the monitor.

She casually tucked her drenched hair behind her ear, pulling her collar open even wider in the process.

"That’s it?" I asked.

"Of course not. But the real intel requires you letting me inside first."

I rubbed my throbbing temples, gripped my 12-gauge shotgun, and strode toward the interior front entrance. I unlocked only the outermost iron security gate, keeping the solid wood main door securely deadbolted.

"Step into the porch isolation zone. Hands where I can see them. Move slow."

Mara complied.

Her bare, shapely thighs and feet splashed through the standing water on the porch as she stepped inside.

I cracked the main door open just a fraction of an inch, jamming the pitch-black barrel of the shotgun straight into the gap.

"Stop. Turn around. Hands against the wall."

The dim, low-wattage security light from the porch ceiling cast downward, cleanly tracing the dark contours of her bra straps beneath the wet fabric.

"Stand straight. Spread your legs." I tapped the icy barrel of the shotgun lightly against her inner thigh.

Mara let out a low, ragged breath, her body shuddering, but she submissively widened her stance, separating her thick, pale thighs.

The posture forced her lower back to arch involuntarily, tightening her already lethal waist-to-hip ratio into an exaggerated, provocative curve.

Her perfectly rounded, heavy hips, tightly molded by the clinging nightgown, protruded right beneath my eyes like a ripe peach ready to split the thin fabric wide open.

Ruthlessly, I pat-searched her, running my hand up the inside of her calf. Reaching her inner thigh, I located and ripped away a concealed folding knife, tossing it onto the floor.

"What else?" My heavy breathing inadvertently brushed against her exposed nape.

A sudden wave of goosebumps broke out across Mara’s neck.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she deliberately pressed backward, intentionally grinding her incredibly elastic, voluptuous hips right against the root of my thigh.

"It’s all right here on my body... Ethan, you'll just have to look a little closer..."

Ignoring her blatant seduction, my large hand swept past her shapely hip straight to her lower back. With a flick of my fingers, I disarmed her, pulling a small-caliber pistol out from the waistband of her gown.

Next, my palm tracked along her ribcage, sliding upward toward her inner jacket pocket. My hand inevitably brushed hard against the heavy, soft weight of her full breasts.

"Mmh..."

Mara arched her chest, deliberately throwing her weight back against the wall, flattening her heavy breasts hard against the panel as a soft groan escaped her lips.

The air instantly filled with a heavy, intoxicating cocktail of female body heat, perfume, and wet rain.

"Keep it steady. Move again, and I strip you naked and throw you right back into the storm."

Mara finally turned her head. Her red lips parted as she panted heavily, her pale chest heaving violently, but her eyes gleamed with a triumphant smirk. "Searching me that thoroughly? And here I thought you weren't interested in my body, Ethan."

The corners of her mouth curled up, her gaze locking onto mine with pure, magnetic heat. "Do you always treat women like this?"

"I treat everyone alive like this," I said coldly. "Strip down to your base layer. Disinfect."

Mara let out a low, sultry laugh, her hands slowly unbuttoning her wet outerwear.

The drenched fabric slid down her rounded shoulders and full hips inch by inch. Under the harsh, cold security light, her fully mature, hourglass figure was laid completely bare—enough to trigger an instant reaction from any ordinary man.

But I wasn't compromised.

"Hurry it up," I pressured her.

She locked eyes with me, intentionally thrusting her full, heavy cleavage right under my nose. "What if I can offer you more than just intelligence? Like... myself?"

I cut her off instantly. "Save it. You’re Ryan’s wife. Right now, you're a liability."

I dragged a dry-erase board forward, aggressively writing down four absolute rules: Disarm upon entry, log all rations, obey the curfew, and unauthorized entry into restricted zones gets you shot dead.

The smirk on Mara's face faded slightly, though her seductive edge remained. "You think you're the king around here?"

"I'm the master of this house. If you want to live, you kneel to my rules."

Right then, a rapid volley of gunfire exploded out in the rain, accompanied by bloodcurdling screams.

Mara flinched violently, her rounded hips jerking as her composed facade finally cracked.

"Inventory!" I commanded, applying maximum pressure.

She bit her crimson lip and confessed honestly, "One bottle of painkillers, half a pack of crackers. No bites. Not infected."

Once she finished washing down with the bleach disinfectant, I pulled out a folding chair for her to sit.

The moment she sat, she deliberately crossed her long, pale legs, leaving absolutely nothing hidden beneath her hiked-up hemline.

"Now. Spill the rest of the intel."

Mara leaned her body forward, thrusting the bottomless view of her pale cleavage directly into my line of sight, her voice dropping to a whisper:

"Ryan wants your house. Derek wants your supplies. They’re launching a joint raid tonight. Ryan knows about your backyard traps, so they plan to smash through your front door and driveway around midnight. Nine men total. Shotguns and gasoline."

She stared at me with burning intensity, her tongue lightly flicking across her bottom lip.

"I’m not dying with him. If you win, I want a permanent spot inside. If you need me... I can move my bed very close to yours."

I let out a harsh scoff, slammed the main interior door shut, and looked down at her coldly through the iron security bars.

"You stay right there in the isolation zone tonight."

Mara stared back, her calculating advances hitting a brick wall for the first time.

But within seconds, she pressed her voluptuous body tight against the steel security mesh.

"Fine, Ethan. Just win first."

She extended a finger tipped with red nail polish, dragging it slowly across the glass pane with a sharp, grating scratch that would test any man's resolve. "Win tonight, and my entire body... is your reward."