Page 87 of Bad Attitude
He doesn’t respond, his bike wobbling across his lane. Awfully close to the median before he gets control.
I blurt the first thing I can think of, to distract him. “So when did you last sixty-nine?”
Jesus, Raven. Really?
He barks a laugh, pained and short.“It’s been a while.”Yeah, not since yesterday, when he was back home with his wife. “Too long, if I’m honest. A few years. There was this girl in San Bernardino…”He trails off.“You didn’t want to hear that, did you?”
I frown at his back. He’s busy letting his mouth run, through his pain, telling me things I shouldn’tknow, yetstill lying? That doesn’t make anysense. Does it?
Aren’t people more likely to tell the truth when they’re lightheaded?
Maybe it was too specific. Maybe his blond wife prefers missionary… though I can’t imagine him ever settling for that.
“And before me?” I press. “How long since you had sex?”
“A while,”he admits.“Been busy, you know?”
‘A while’ forhimcould be hours. I want numbers. “What does that mean? A month? Two?” I give a little laugh, needling him. “I know what you’re like.”
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s not going to respond.“Two years, four months. I think.”
What?
He’s lying. Hehasto be lying.
He speaks again.“Anything else you want to know, Hellcat? I like talking with you. It helps. Ask me what you want.”
We’re almost back home; I don’t have long. Now I wish I’d been interrogating him the whole damn way.
What to ask?
A question leaps to my mind. “Blonds, or brunettes?”
He doesn’t even hesitate.“Brunettes, definitely. Darker is so much more fun, don’t you agree?”
That wasn’t a lie. It came too fast.
My chest constricts, and it takes me a moment to draw another breath.
Blood loss is making him chatty.“…Though the girl inSan Bernardino was a redhead, come to that.”
I hate her. Never met her; still hate her.
“Next exit,” I tell him, because he’s still in the outside lane and I don’t want him pulling one of his late maneuvers. Not in the state he’s in. “Be there in two minutes.”
Declan peels off toward my apartment, and I follow him, my emotions in disarray, my thoughts spiraling.
He calls me his. He put himself in harm’s wayfor me. He thinks we’re getting close, andlikesthat. Before me, he hadn’t had sex in over two years.
And my gut instinct tells me he’s not lying.
God help me, I want him to be telling the truth. All of it.
But who the hell are the woman and child in Thousand Oaks?
Eighteen
Raven
