Page 147 of Brutal
“You’ll wait,” I say.
She drops her hand from my wrist. “There’s that thing you do.”
“What?”
“Act like this is still something you can command.” She exhales sharply. “Like if you lower your voice and make enough rules, I’ll fall in line. Everything will fall in line.”
I shake my head. “You think this is the time to discuss all that? Here? At the marina?”
“I think this is exactly the time.”
Wind tears through the space between us, but neither of us moves.
My blood is still hot from the chase. Hers is too. I can feel it. Smell it. See it in the color high on her cheeks.
“He knew something,” she says. “He knew enough to come watch us. Enough to run. Enough to point at a lawyer.”
“And he also came with a knife.”
“Which means we pushed the right place.”
I step closer. Now we’re almost touching again.
“Which means,” I say quietly, “you don’t decide to chase men because you’re angry.”
“I wasn’t angry.”
That’s a lie. “You were furious.”
“So were you.”
I don’t deny it.
I can’t.
She drops her gaze to my mouth.
A mistake.
I should end this.
Take her back to the car. Get her inside. Lock it down. Keep her safe.
Instead I say, “When I tell you to stay back, you stay back.”
She looks up again. “Or what?”
I lift my hand and grab her around the neck. Again. “Or I stop you.”
Her eyes darken. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”
Jesus.
She’s killing me.
Forbidden fruit.
That’s what this is. Not sweet. Not innocent. Something you know will cost you the second you touch it and wanting it anyway.
