Mack woke to what felt like a lethal pounding in his head and something smashing in his kitchen sink. He reached for the gun under his pillow and brought his other hand up to his head in a grimace. Motherfucker, this was going to be a bad one. How much did he actually drink last night after dropping Lucy off at her place? He didn't usually indulge to excess these days, but he'd needed something to take the edge off her sweet taste and the desperate need that drove him to go back for more of her addictive flavour when he knew he shouldn't.
He eased out of the bed and stalked silently down the hallway, barefoot, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, holding his gun down at his side. He was tensed though, ready to take out the threat banging around in his kitchen. He was fairly certain any enem
